Today has been a rough day. I had to put on my boxing gloves and fight toe to toe with this depression. I woke up irritated, annoyed, and sad. I decided I wasn’t going to let that take me down. I was going to fight. All to often I submit to the depression, let it wash over me. Today I wanted to try something different.

I started by calling to make my therapy appointment. To my surprise, they could have gotten me in TODAY! But it was too short notice and I made my appointment for the Monday after we get back from vacation. June 19…. the day before my birthday.

I have been drinking copious amounts of coffee, and it is just like drinking water. No effect. Still moving at a snails pace.

I went to the store to grab what I needed to make tacos for dinner tomorrow.

I came home and made cinnamon rolls.

I did three loads of laundry.

I made dinner.

All the while, jabbing and hooking my way through the day. Bobbing and weaving, managing NOT to get knocked down for the count.

Guess what? I’m still depressed. Even after the long embrace that my husband gave me.

No suicidal thoughts, so that is a plus. Must be that the Latuda is working. By the way I got that in the mail today. And the husband rented an SUV today, we pick it up Saturday, the day we leave.

Right now I am listening to some new Alt-J, and I’m not impressed. I will have to listen again when I am in a better mood.

Depression sucks. I have no idea why I have been given this “gift” in this lifetime. It would be great if some hypomania came around soon.

I’m a little dismayed that I wasn’t able to work through it. I’m a little saddened that even fighting this all day, it is still here. It didn’t go away. Next time I am just going to wallow in my misery.

 

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Mind Phuck

I’m in the middle of a big mind phuck right now. And I can’t help to think that perhaps this depression and anger has been triggered by the current pain I am in. For the past 3 days my mouth has been in excruciating pain. I believe I have a couple cavities that need to be taken care of. I had to run up to the pharmacy yesterday and get some more oral pain relief because I used up all of my orajel. I told my husband that I need to call the dentist on Friday, and you could just see the dollar signs pop up in his mind. No “Oh man, I’m sorry you are in pain” just… “ok” Which I think started this whole episode now that I have had some time to think about how the spider-web has been made.

See, I start off by feeling like I am such a burden. I cost my husband so much money. I feel completely horrible about it. I mean It really brings me down. Between all my meds and doctor visits between my various ailments, I cost a fortune. All because I’m damaged. I’m damaged when I get into these moods. When I’m up I like to think I’m unique… when I’m down? I’m damaged. And then it goes to worthless, because I don’t have a job that is frequent enough to make a difference in our financial status. Which then sends me looking on all my job boards, only to see that I am not qualified for one reason or another for anything listed; be it a position that would require me to stand on my feet for long periods of time, or requires heavy lifting, or the hours are not what I can do because I still have to be responsible for getting my 10 year old to school. Then this makes the worthlessness feeling even stronger. Which then turns into I don’t deserve to be here, everyone would be better off without me, which then turns into thinking of ways I can die. Which then goes to me thinking that I can’t do that because I can’t let me kids find me like that — that would do irreversible damage to them.

See? Mind Phuck. And there is not a damn thing I can do about it because this is how my mind works. At least I am able to follow the train of thought and understand WHY I am feeling this way. And all because of a cavity and an unwanted response from my husband.It is exhausting to say the least.

So, now what do I do about it. I have no damn idea. I guess I go back to stuffing the feelings down. I guess I try and find something to keep me busy to ignore all of the thoughts that are running rampant in my mind that are trying to bring me down.

I hate bipolar. I hate that I have to live the rest of my life this way. The only thing I can do is deal with it the best way I can. I guess practice makes perfect. One can only hope. It is going to be a long friggen day.

When you find your passion

I thought I had found a great group of people to surround myself with to discuss and share experiences with empathic abilities. I learned something today though, I found my passion. I thought my passion was using my gift of empathy to help heal people, but instead I found my passion was using my gift of empathy to help people by way of advocacy.

A discussion was brought up asking how many people suffer from emotional issues/disorders. I of course chime in with my bipolar diagnosis. Because I am not ashamed of it, it is part of who I am. Others shared their diagnosis’ as well. And then the non-believers chimed in. And my fire started burning.

Of course, this was all coming from a loving place (sarcasm). People didn’t believe in labels because it” diminishes” individuals (to which I played devils advocate and asked “isn’t calling yourself an empath putting a label on yourself? I find nothing demeaning with most labels, I find them descriptive.” of course, no one had a come back for that). Then there were others that believed that “psychiatrists do nothing but put labels on people and throw medications at them to make money”. And my favorite – “Bipolar is not a disease or disorder, it is just a way of being, like being bisexual”.

Of course I point out that bipolar is a medical condition where you have a chemical imbalance. I got… “Oh, are you a doctor?” smh… “No, just an educated patient.”

With all of the people that had mental health diagnosis’in that group, this was a very harmful environment. You never know the stability of who is on the other side, and to make remarks about “medication is not needed”, these are not “real diseases”, “I am cured of such and such because I went completely off of meds”…. just not a good environment at all.

But it reiterated some things for me. Stigma is super strong. I think for a little while I thought stigma was changing, because I have been surrounded by all of you lovely people here in my cozy part of the blogverse. I need to focus my energy on advocacy. This is where my passion truly lies. It is a super sensitive subject for me, it is like someone talking shit about my kids or a loved one; my hackles go up and I need to defend. And not just for bipolar disorder and depression and PTSD, but all of the mental illnesses. People have so far to go to gain a rice grain of understanding. And with the amount of mentally ill people there are in the world, we need fighters. I want to be a fighter, a defender, an educator, an ally.

So I’m going where this passion takes me. I am going blind, but I don’t care. I will use my hands to feel my way to where I need to be. I realize I can’t save the world. I realize stupid is as stupid does, and you can’t teach old dogs new tricks. But I also realize I can’t make a difference if I don’t try. So I will be trying. Trying my damndest to make a difference. I hope to have your support.

3rd floor: ladies apparel, shoes and fragrance

I hate when the anger seeps in. Slithers in like a snake in the grass. Just out of nowhere it rears it’s ugly head. I push it away and push it away, but it is like a ten ton boulder stuck at the bottom of a hill. It won’t budge.

I’m mentally taking note of my feelings the past couple of days. Yesterday I felt awkward and needy. Today the anger slipped in. This all points to a downfall. This all fucking points to depression. I’m tired of dealing with the depression.

I wish it would all go away. Go fuck with someone else, you are not welcome here.

I guess I am going to try and soak all of this away. I have no epsom salts, fucking figures. I’ll make the best of it.

Sorry for all the f-bombs. It’s just how it is right now.

The knock at the door

Depression came knocking at my door this morning. I should have known it was looming outside, waiting, stalking me, with my introspective post yesterday. I barred the door and nailed all the windows shut, trying my best to seal all airways so it doesn’t seep in.

I have become excellent at playing “happy” and “content”. But my inside goes through torture. It’s as if I have been whipped with barbed wire. The pain, the sadness, it is just so unbearable.

There is a tiny light in my head, one that keeps me going, one that helps me play the roles of “happy” and “content”. Sometimes it is just a glow, because it is just as exhausted as I am. Sometimes it is as bright as a thousand burning suns, with motivation to help me get through the pain and misery. It hasn’t gone out completely, yet. It’s my own personal cheerleader, rooting me on. Letting me know that it is there at the end of the tunnel, I just have to move a few more steps.

Today, I can barely see the light. It’s there, but I have to strain to see through the muck and mire. Depression exhaled a large breath that covered me in a sticky, heavy, substance. I’m not sure how it happened, because as I stated, I barred and nailed everything shut. Funny how it can still reach it’s tentacles in and touch me.

Thoughts I had with my coffee “Maybe I need an increase in meds”. “Maybe a hospital stay is in order”. “Maybe I need a different med”. “Therapy…. I need therapy. After all, talk therapy goes hand in hand with meds for a proper plan of combating this disease”. “Maybe going back to bed will make me feel refreshed. Maybe I need a do-over.”

So, here I sit with my coffee, my words, and my thoughts, plotting my attack.

Update

Went to my parents house yesterday for a cook out. Had a great time, except for the drive there and the drive back. I did take my anxiety meds, so my anxiety wasn’t AS bad, but it was still very bad. I just don’t know what I am going to do when we go on vacation. I have an appointment with my doc a few days before we leave, so I guess I am going to ask her what to do about this. Otherwise I will end up a blubbering mess on the floorboard of the car. I need some heavy sedation, seriously!

I spent about 40 minutes outside this morning weeding our bush garden. That is what I call it. We have Blue Juniper bushes around our property in the front and there was a mess of weeds and rogue trees that needed to be removed, because it looks like crap. I have never sweated so much in my life! I can’t remember if I shared this here or not, but apparently my meds cause higher body temps. So, I can’t be out in the heat/sun for long periods of time, otherwise I can get heatstroke. This is going to cause a bit of a problem for vacation. I am going to see if I can find one of those portable battery operated fans to wear around my neck, and carry around a washcloth to wipe my sweat off. It is SO EMBARRASSING! Since I’m over-weight, I feel like people think it is just because I’m fat that I am sweating so much. Which is NOT the case. My family has some kind of health issue that already causes increased body core temp. So I have that, on top of being fat, on top of med issues. With all this sweating you think I’d be skinny! Nope, just dehydrated. LOL

Tomorrow I go to my family doc appointment, and then to do my background check. And I already decided I am wearing my pretty orange sundress tomorrow, even though I hate wearing a dress and driving a truck.

I have been doing great with the Latuda increase though. Which really makes me happy. No depression so far, not even a tiny moment of it. No suicidal thoughts, which is FANFUCKINGTASTIC! And my motivation is improving! I’m taking chances on getting out and doing more, but I’m still fighting anxiety. I’m just happy to get that depressed monkey off my back!

Now if I can get my sleep on track, I’d be in heaven!

Self Deprecating

I see my pdoc in 7 days. I am terrified that she is going to switch my meds. Only because she had mentioned that maybe my current med isn’t working. And the only reason I’m nervous, is because if she puts me on something else, I am afraid I am going to gain all that fucking weight back. 15 pounds is a lot, but not a lot in the grande scheme of where I should be. But then I think, maybe I need to be on something else.

The current med has done good with keeping my suicidal thoughts and depression at bay. However, I feel like I am just past the edge of it all, and I have no motivation. IF I start to focus on the lack of motivation, then I can get depressed, so I don’t go there.

The interesting thing is, that I am on ONE medication for my bipolar. I’m afraid it’s not cutting it. I’m used to being on several meds for the bipolar.

Then I start to wonder if maybe my diagnosis is wrong, maybe I have cyclothymia or maybe my very first diagnosis at the age of 15 of severe clinical depression was the correct diagnosis? But atypical depression seems to fit too. And maybe all those moments of mania are really just me feeling good finally?

NOPE. I am NOT walking down that road again.

I’m trying to find pleasure.
I made the kids some cookies tonight since everyone is out at my son’s performance.
I’m listening to some music, and even that isn’t budging my mood.

Just understand, I’m not sad. I’m flat. I’m uneventful. Unmotivational. And I’m trying to get over it.

It is difficult.

I have so much I could be doing. But I’m not. I lack the interest.

My shows come on tv tonight, hopefully they will make me feel better.

It’s funny…. I don’t look sick. But I am so fucking sick on the inside, it’s not even funny.