Defeated

That's how I feel right now. Utterly defeated. Just got home from my appointment with Dr. C and we're doing exactly what I thought - stopping Cymbalta and starting Wellbutrin. Joy. Another med change.

It seems that's all that ever happens. Try this med, stop this one, add this one, decrease this dosage . . . It's very frustrating. It's getting me nowhere. And I'm tired of it.

I left the office in a daze, near tears. I had to fight the tears while driving. And I'm sitting here, on the couch, struggling with what to write. My head is a whirlwind, but at the same time, sluggish and quiet. It's a very strange sensation.

I want to sleep. I'm so tired. Mentally and emotionally tired. But I only want to sleep so I don't have to deal with what I'm feeling. So devastatingly lost and defeated. I'll be honest - I'm not hopeful. We've been through this song and dance before and look where I'm at. Again.

I can't even write right now. I can't make sense of anything or concentrate. I'm staring off into space. I'll go cry. I'll try to sew. I'll carry on as best I can.

Yay.

I have nothing profound to say, but I feel like I need to write. Sort my thoughts and get something out there. This may be a rambling mess - just a warning.

I'm not sure when the last time I wrote was and, quite frankly, I'm too lazy to look right now. Monday I think. It's been a long week. A rough week. I've had a very difficult time mood wise. I think it's safe to say the depression is back. Full force. So much so that M suggested hospitalization on Tuesday (more to nip it in the bud rather than letting it get worse). I didn't go, and I'm not going. I'm seeing Dr. C on Monday so we can figure something out.

But I feel like crap. I broke down crying 3 times at work on Wednesday. Thursday was a little better, but I avoided everyone at work as much as possible. My first half hour with Chance yesterday was crying - the rest of the day was a little better but I filled it with sewing and nothing else.

Today . . . I'm withdrawn. I'm flat. I want to hide in the office. I don't think I'll cry today . . . but I really don't want to exist. If I'm doing something (like teaching the discharge class), I can ignore for a bit how I feel. When I have to interact with people, I can put on a believable enough facade (though it falters - and it's obvious I'm more withdrawn). But when I'm not doing something where I'm actively engaged . . .

I'm so hollow and empty. There's nothing there. Nothing. I don't want to be anywhere. I don't really feel. Well, frustration, anger, sorrow, emptiness, lonliness . . . those emotions I can feel. I'm so done with this. I'm so tired of this. Why can't I get better? Why can't I be stable? I do everything right. I'm the picture perfect patient. . . it's not fair. And no, life isn't fair.

I'm tired of struggling through the day. Anything I can do to make it through. Because at night, I can sleep. When I sleep I don't have to deal with the pain and emptiness. If I can make it through the day, I can sleep. What a way to live. If I could just go to sleep and wake up when this was all over. . .

I don't know what to do anymore. I want to be strong and brave and fight the depression. But I don't see things getting better. I see me being like this for the rest of my life, which makes me think, why bother? Why spend so much energy when nothing is going to change? That fatalistic thinking isn't healthy nor helpful. But it's not something I can really control. It's there, and it's how I feel.

I'm so frustrated and tired and braindead. Recovery seems like a hopeless endevour. I want to give up. It's too hard. And if I didn't have my hubby and my son, I probably would.

Losing it. . . .

Sometimes I feel
Like I wanna leave this place for good
Under the ground
I'll live down there without a sound
And never hear
These hissing voices all the same
I'll disappear
Cause living makes me feel ashamed

I must believe
There's more above us and below
I must believe
Stranded with this bitch called hope
It keeps me here
When all I wanna do is go
It keeps me here
When all I wanna do is disappear

If this is it
When all we have and ever will
If this is it
Time is running out and standing still
I'll leave today
Cause there's nothing left to keep me here
I'll fade away
I'll turn my back and disappear

           - The Bravery
(italics added for emphasis)

I don't even know anymore. I don't know what I'm feeling or if I should trust what I'm feeling. I'm struggling right now. Grasping any little shred of hope I can. But I'm falling. I feel like I'm slipping.

I'm becoming more and more detached. I'm just . . . here. I'm only taking up space. I'm trying to feel. I am. And I don't. I hate this so much. I'm desperate. I've thought about taking pills . . .

Briefly. But the thought was there. I can't do this. I can't. I'm not strong enough.

What I'm feeling right now, besides the detachment, is the depression. It's coming back despite my best efforts. Despite being back on Cymbalta. Despite everything. And I can't . . .

I see M tomorrow. Chance on Friday. What do I do in the meantime.

Also? I took a break in writing this to cry. The big, ugly cry with snot everywhere. Had to hide it from my son. I think I'll cry more, too.

God help me.

Stupid

So remember my last post? The one about the desert and me not feeling and giving up because this is as good as it gets? (scroll down or click HERE)

Well, this is frustrating. Because that's how I feel. Most of the time. And then I get a wild hair up my ass and decide that NO. Fuck you. This is NOT as good as it gets. This is a speed bump and I WILL get better.

I got that hair up my ass on Friday, after working with Chance. And hubby, the boy and I went camping and had a lovely weekend. And I relaxed and felt a little better and was able to actually enjoy myself. Which was HUGE.

But I didn't sleep well, and I was tired. And then Monday happened and I was at work and I was cranky and irritable and tired. And one thing I'm trying to do is to separate what symptoms/feelings are from the bipolar vs what's regular human experience. The crankiness and irritability was normal. I was tired. I didn't want to be at work and it was busy.

However, I also felt distant and empty and hopeless and alone. And that is the bipolar. I'm getting better at identifying which is which. But I'm anal about it. I stress over it. I mull it over in my head trying to figure out every little minute detail. Which is certainly not healthy.

And I have days like today (and most of the past week, really), where that bipolar side is strong. Where I want to curl up in a ball and not exist. Or sleep because I don't know what else to do to cope with what I'm feeling. I try to ignore it. I try to acknowledge and move past it. I try not to obsess over it. I try to joke and talk and stay engaged and not isolate myself. I try to stay positive when all I feel is dead inside.

I don't know what to do.

I feel like friendships and my marriage are suffering. I feel like I'm neglecting everything I should be doing. Everyone puts up with so much from me and I'm tired of having to rely on them. I'm tired of wearing them out. I'm tired of wearing me out.

I know I'm pushing myself too much. I know I'm the "perfect little ACOA" and that's not helping my cause (according to M). I'm too hard on myself. I don't relax enough. I don't allow myself to enjoy anything. Maybe I'm too caught up in needing to "figure all this out" - I'm striving for control rather than managing the bipolar, and that's unrealistic.

But I still don't know what to do.

I relaxed last weekend. I'll relax this weekend (we're camping again). I'm trying not to think about things, but my mind races with what ifs. I can't seem to stop it. Or, conversely, it's blank and empty and I can't focus on anything.

And so I'm still floating along, tethered by a thread, in my cocoon of nothingness - seeing but not feeling, doing but not experiencing. And it's stupid and it's frustrating and I'm sick of it.

As Good As It Gets

Have you ever seen that movie? If not, watch it - pretty good flick.

And this is how my life seems. It's as good as it gets. No matter what I do, it's as good as it gets. Which is frustrating beyond belief. I'm tired of it, and I'm losing hope that it will ever change. In fact, I'm close to giving up.

But what's so bad? It's not like I'm suicidal or even close mood wise to where I was in February, so what's the big deal? Well, the big deal is that I'm not enjoying my life. Not much at all. Watching my son play with his friend . . . I'm annoyed. He does something cute or says something funny . . . I smile and feel nothing. My husband hugs me or kisses me or tells me he loves me and I return the favor but I feel nothing, or I get annoyed or I don't even know any more. I fake my way through conversations at work and try to avoid people. I'm a hollow husk of a person.

I've written this before. I know I have. Because this seems to be my new normal. If I'm not actively depressed, I'm a flat, withdrawn, empty, lost, confused shell. People don't understand this feeling - or lack of feeling, I should say. I'm not even sure I can accurately describe how it feels.

But I'll try.

Picture this: A desolate wasteland, a desert. Dead skeletons of trees litter the landscape. It's hot - the heat blurring the distance creating mirages of unknown things. A dry wind is blowing causing tornados of sand on the dunes and puhing the occasional tumbleweed by. There are no clouds and despite the sun being high, the light quality is that of a washed out twilight. The air is thick and it's hard to breath without your lungs burning. It's oppressive. It's unyielding. And there's this overwhelming sense of . . . . something ominous. Something not quite right. You can't put your finger on it . . . . but it's there.

This is the inside of me. It's what I imagine when I close my eyes. I can see it so clearly - it's burned into my mind. On the inside, the inside of me, in the middle of this wasteland, is a robot. A robot devoid of emotion. This robot is me.

I'm lost. I'm lost here and I'm scared. Except I'm not really scared. Because I'm not sure I can truly feel that. I'm kinda wandering around, staring at these skeletal trees, and trying to figure out what is going on. And in this robot body, in this dry landscape, I see the things around me - my family and friends, coworkers, strangers - and I struggle to be a part of that world. I can see the blue sky out there, hear the birds chirping . . . . but I can't grasp it. I can't move past this desert with its skeletal trees and sand dune tornados. But I try. The robot grasps for anything tangible, anything to hold on to. But it all too often slips through . . . .

There's despair with that, but that, too, is short lived and muted. No feelings last long in the wasteland. The wind takes them away with the tumble weeds.

That. That is how I feel. I don't even know if that makes sense. It probably doesn't.

Crawl

Looking back from here, I have to wonder
Just how much did I think that I could take?
So I'll throw my hands up and drag myself through
And I'll kick my feet, cause I've learned to crawl
It's really impressive
When I was just drowning. . .

Everything has been so frustrating lately. My moods are still a bit everywhere. I'll have a good day followed by a bad one or series of bad ones or one where I'm just kinda . . . there. And my good days? They aren't really all that good. They're better, but I'm still pretty withdrawn and flat. My bad days? There more so withdrawn and flat, but with the depressive undertones thrown in for good measure. Why not . . .

But let's be honest - I'm getting real tired of this. This feeling of just skimming the surface. I've checked out - I'm distracted, disinterested, and withdrawn. I don't want to be involved in anything. Yesterday I was put on call, thank God. I spent the day sewing - plowed through FOUR zombie cats - a machine like drone so I wouldn't have to deal with how terrible I was feeling. It was a nothing-matters-why-the-fuck-am-I-even-alive kinda mood. So bad.

And even on my better days I still feel like everything is pointless - it's just that on my better days it's easier for me to ignore these thoughts/feelings. I do everything right and still . . . still I feel like this.

I have other thoughts in my head, but I'm too brain dead to get them out right now. Things I want to elaborate on, things I want to explore . . . another day.