Today is supposed to be different

I'm here at work and it's loud and annoying and I don't even know what my mood is doing today. Everyone here (the labor nurses) is talking about the stupid Obama Care and I kinda want to stab them all. Shut up. Just . . . shut up. Seriously. 

I'm everywhere bad today. I'm down, I'm frustrated, I'm annoyed and cranky and I feel like I'm going to lose it. I'm trying, really trying to fake it till I make it. I'm really trying to stay positive and ignore my feelings and surroundings. Today, it's hard. Today is a day I would spiral, a day that I could spiral. I'm trying not to. 

Which is why I'm writing right now. There are a few things I'm frustrated with at the moment but I can't even concentrate. I want to hide. I want to go home and sleep. Last week was shitty - this week isn't supposed to be. I'm trying. I will make it a good day. God willing.

Why I Hate Myself: The Synopsis

I am hating on myself BIG TIME today. And nothing I'm trying to stop the self hate is working. So, here's the scoop *shifty eyes*:

1. I've had a bad week mood wise. I've had some very rough days involving lots of crying. I've had one day where I felt relatively okay most of the time, and one day of extreme irritability and hatred, followed by contempt and defeat after talking with my mom on the phone.

2. I'm beating myself up over said bad week of moods. Again, I should be past this, I should be okay, I shouldn't have to try so damn hard or struggle constantly against myself. I should be able to let go. But I can't or I don't or I won't and so I continue to struggle.

3. Weight. I've gained weight. I feel fat and disgusting and hate how my clothes fit and this makes me want to eat more and eat shitty food which perpetuates the weight gain. I need to get my ass back in the gym and working out consistently and I haven't. Making excuses. Some is actual time restraints, most is excuses.

4. My complexion. I am SO FUCKING SICK of my constant, unrelenting acne. And it's not like it's a couple pimples here and there - it's my entire face (and neck, and back) full of  large, small and often painful acne. And scarring. And discoloration. I have to wear a lot of makeup but I hate looking like I'm wearing a lot of makeup. And it cakes. And it looks obvious, and makes me self conscious.

5. My hair. I'm growing it out and it doesn't do what I want it to and it annoys me and I want to tear it out sometimes. Or chop it all off again (which I know I'll regret). I colored it, but my roots are showing and I hate spending the money to get it touched up. And I've had issues with store bought dye. And it's not long enough to pull into a pony tail without using 76 bobby pins to hold it in place.

6. Refer to numbers 1-5 as I keep ruminating over them even thought I'm desperately trying not to.

So I'm in a foul mood and I feel like crying but I'm not letting myself because I've spent too much time crying this week already. And I'm trying to "fake it till I make it" to bring my mood up.  And trying to think positive (doesn't seem like I am, reading the above - which is why I'm typing it out - purging it).

Yep. There ya go.

Developing Positive Emotional Habits

Heads up: this is very much stream of consciousness writing. Yep.

I went to a seminar today on developing positive emotional habits. That, in fact, was the title of the seminar. It was geared towards healthcare professionals - I even got continuing education credits! Now, my reasons for going were purely selfish - let's be honest, I need all the help I can get. Especially since what I'm working on right now is curbing my negative thoughts/behaviors/emotions.

Now, the seminar starts with reviewing the basics of brain chemistry as it relates to emotions - all the basic primitive stuff (fight, flight or freeze) - to all of the new information gleamed from experiments and brain imaging. It's all very interesting, fascinating even (to me at least). We learned all about the reward centers (controlled by dopamine), the emotional hub spot (the amygdala), and other fun structures (hippocampus, frontal cortex). The science of emotion and habits and addiction is just amazing. This is neat stuff y'all. Trust me.

Then we moved into discussing how to change our emotional response, and why it can be difficult to do. All these ideas. All these techniques. My mind was a jumbled, racing mass of what-ifs and maybes, and could-haves. Some things I've already been practicing. Some were new. My mind went hog wild. I became excited. I became motivated. This. THIS. All of THIS. I will do ALL of THIS and it will be epic and awesome and I'll be better and amazing and life will be grand and I'll be happy and I'll eat bacon cupcakes and fuck those who oppose me!

And then reality likes to bitch slap me. Because reality is a cunt-faced whore sandwich bent on ruining my new found motivation. See, I actually do have a mood disorder. And despite my best efforts and intentions, I will have emotions/moods/behaviors that I can't control or can't manage or don't understand. This is distressing.

On the one hand I have this new knowledge, this motivation, to really step up and work on squelching my negativity. And on the other hand I have my mood disorder and all of its uncertainties and tenacity and lies. I can have the best "control" over my emotions and be positive and optimistic, but if bipolar depression truly takes hold again, all of that control is for not. If anything more elevated than mild hypomania strikes, all bets are off. I have no self control, despite my knowledge. Despite my training and practice.

See, that's the problem. At least with me. I'm working so hard right now on ending the negative, fostering the positive. I'm using techniques I've learned in the past and I'll apply the new ones I learned today. I know the science. The actual mother fucking science.

But how well will this work for me? How well does it work when trapped in the steely grips of a mood episode? Knowing that I can change my dopamine response to a stimulus doesn't help much when I physically can't get out of bed or I'm holding a bottle of pills. Knowing I should be practicing top-down control while I'm manic and impulsive isn't going to stop me from blurting out something inappropriate or making an impulse buy (or worse).

That's my problem. All of this knowledge is awesome and will work and I'll be great. Except I won't. Because how well will it work? My mind races back and forth, back and forth. From thinking that I'll have this emotion thing pretty much figured out and all is cool, to the reality that I do have a mood disorder and this may not always work and I may be out of control.

This back and forth is so fucking distressing. It's so fucking tiring. And it's so fucking stupid. My brain picks this all apart, looks at it from every possible angle. It tries to categorize it, put it all in neat little boxes which doesn't work. But it's what I do. I have to analyze, I have to make sense of abstract bits of everything. This shit doesn't fit in boxes. It doesn't sit on the shelf, tidy and organized like I want it to.

Seriously. Why is this so fucking difficult for me to grasp?

So much of my writing and thinking lately is about this. I keep turning it over in my mind, hoping I'll see something new. But there's nothing new. There never is. The emotional control will work well when I'm stable or having mild mood swings. In a mood episode . . . who knows. Probably not. Maybe it will help me recover more quickly. I should be able to accept this fact. It's simple. But I don't. Or maybe I can't. I don't even know anymore.

I don't even know what the hell is going on in my brain lately. It's almost as if since I've been working so hard on changing my thinking and my behavior and my emotional response, my thinking has become more obsessive. Deciphering my moods and emotions: was that bipolar? ACOA? Normal? How do I categorize this? How was my response? I had a bad mood? Quick! Damage control! You can't spiral again for God's sake don't go down that road again!

I can't not try to figure it all out. But I'm driving myself crazy. I can't leave well enough alone. I truly am my own worst enemy.

Rough Day

I'm not exactly sure where I want to go with this post. It's been a weird week for me. Some hypomanic moments, a day of extreme rapid cycling, feeling down and withdrawn. You name it, I experienced it. Most of the time was okay. A lot of my mood shifts were normal. Some were not. Some were true bipolar mood swings. I managed those as well as I could. Even my rapid cycling day. I experienced each mood swing (there were many drastic ones), managed it, and moved on. I didn't catastrophize, I didn't let myself spiral. And I was proud of myself for that. Very proud.

It's funny though, those times where I had a bipolar swing for the worse, I managed and moved on, but I also lingered. I stayed there, thinking that that's where I was supposed to be. In a more depressed state. It's only natural. But I didn't stay there. I moved forward. And I was proud of that.

Yesterday I was in a bit of a funk. A little down, more withdrawn than I have been (though I tried to hide that as I was at work). I think part of it was a decision I made on Friday - a decision that was difficult and that I'm grieving over. October 4th will be my last therapy day with Chance. J and N have been kinda hinting as to me finding a closure point. They didn't say anything outright and are more than happy to do whatever I need to do, but there have been some subtle hints. So I picked an end date. Right before the horses' fall break. I'm staying on as a volunteer so I'll still be with the horses, grooming, and working with them with the disabled children and adults. But it's not the same. Because I won't be with Chance, one on one, us. And I'm grieving that loss. And I think about it and I tear up. But I need to prove to N and J and to myself that I can do this and I can move on and still be okay.

I've also been thinking a lot about therapy. I've been going to weekly sessions for so long. Soooo long. I've been thinking it's time to try going every other week. Start to space out a little. I can't keep seeing M every week for the rest of my life - that won't work. So I had made the plan of talking to him about that today.

And then today. Oh boy today. A very emotionally draining day. Therapy today was an ACOA day. M spaces them out because they're so difficult. It's no fun talking about your drunk mother and how that's affected you and, let's be honest, it sucks. But talk about it we did. And I teared up many times but I didn't cry. I kept it together.

I started to feel the loss of not having the mother I needed, the mother I wanted. Grieving for not having a parent to go to. Grieving, again, over the loss of my dad. Then I told M about Chance. Another loss I'm grieving. And then, spacing out to every other week on therapy (which M agreed I was stable enough to do).

But there's a sense of loss with that, too. I know I see M every week - it's a safety net. And now that will be gone. It doesn't seem like it's that big of a deal, but to me, it is. And I'm scared. I'm scared of failing. If I can't make it going every other week, how can I expect to get better? The goal is to space out so that eventually I only go every 3 months, or 6 months, or only if I have an issue or a crisis. The point of therapy is to get better, find yourself, and move on. I need to prove to M that I can do that. To myself as well, but I feel more of an obligation to prove it to M. He's almost become the parental figure in my life. I need to show him that I'm good and capable and okay and I can do this and he can be proud of me. Everything I had to do with my mom to feel accepted, acknowledged. (I'll be writing tons more on this, I'm sure).

So I didn't cry in therapy. But I balled when I got to my truck. For 15 minutes or so. And I went to my friend L's house and talked about therapy. And started crying. And she gave me the most amazing birthday gift - a horse plushie she knitted herself. And it made me tear up and start crying (these were happy tears). And when my hubby, J, got home, I told him about therapy. And teared up and started crying. All this crying today. I'm so drained.

And you know what sucks? I feel myself giving in to these yucky feelings. These feelings of grief and loss which mimic so well the feelings of depression. I feel myself wanting to give in and have it continue. If it continues, I need therapy more frequently, I need Chance, and the yucky feelings of loss and fear go away. This is my cycle. This is what I do. I'm staring it in the face and a big part of me wants to give up and get sick again. And I can't do that. Because this time? I might not make it out alive. And in this moment, this very moment of typing this, I'm struggling. I'm so drained from today, and I feel so crappy and it's so much easier to stay here. It's an uphill battle at the moment to pull myself back up and move out of this present funk.

But I will. Because I have to prove to people that I can. And because I have to get better.

Hey! A real post!

Remember how I've been saying I was going to do a real post? Well, here it is. Kind of. I think.

I've been working a lot on staying positive. Identifying negative thoughts and behaviors and stopping them. Fostering healthy thinking. And I've been doing pretty well with all that. Making some headway it would seem. And I'm grateful for this. There's even times when I think I'm feeling "okay", where I'm feeling "normal". Maybe even feeling like "me". Which is strange and wonderful and still a bit confusing.

Last Friday, while working with Chance, I had another revelation type moment. N and J had me ground drive Chance. Don't know what ground driving is? You've seen horses pull carts, right? Well, imagine me as the cart. I walk behind Chance, directing him with the long reins just as if I was in the cart behind him. Neither of us has done this. But N sent us off on our own after showing me the basics. The first 10 minutes or so was chaos. Neither of us knew what we were doing, there was miscommunication between us and we floundered about looking like idiots. Or at least I looked like an idiot.

But then something magical happened - we connected. We got it. We drove and it went smoothly and it was awesome. And then the tractor came. And spooked Chance. Surprisingly, I stayed calm, pulled his head around so he could see me and talked to him, calmed him down. We stood for 5 minutes or so and just relaxed. Breathed. And then we moved on, as if nothing had happened. When we came back to N and J, they had things to say. First, why did we stop? I told them, and explained that we needed a minute to calm and collect before we moved on (and from a driving/horse training stand point, that was exactly the right response). Next question: you had a rough start. Did you feel like you couldn't do it? Did you feel like a failure? Well, no. Neither of us knew how to do this. We had to figure it out - it's not going to be perfect.

Oh? Said J. So you're doing something new, something different, and it didn't have to be perfect? And you didn't worry or beat yourself up over it? Isn't how you're trying to work through your moods new and different? Yet you try to be perfect . . . and you beat yourself up when you're not.

A light went on. M has been drilling this into me since I met him. My hubby has been drilling this into me for God knows how long. But it took working with Chance to make it actually click. To make me actually see what I've been doing, how I hold myself to so high a standard and then beat myself up if I don't reach that standard.

And what a concept! To work through this new way of being, stumbling now and then but dusting myself off, moving forward and going easy on myself. This is a new way of doing things, of being, for me. I won't be perfect. And that's okay! I'll get through it, I'll learn, and I'll be okay.

But I'm me. And this is hard. Amazingly hard. Stupidly hard. I have to really think, really concentrate. And I'm too analytical. Which, in this instance, is probably not helpful.

M gave me homework last week - a mood diary. I have to track my moods throughout the day, what's going on during that time, etc. Kinda like a food diary. So I'm tracking them, writing them. I'm a good, perfect little ACOA doing my homework. And this week we discussed my previous week's entries. And by discuss, I mean M had me read them aloud and then we discussed. Which is good, which is fine, and reiterates the fact that my mood shifts are often within the realm of "normalcy". They're not too far out there. And that's a wonderful thing! I'm not being completely ruled by my mood swings!

Except that I am. In a different way. Every time I have a mood shift that seems slightly outside the norm, I analyze it. Was that normal? Was that an aspect of bipolar? How can I tell? I recognize this and I tell myself to stop - that isn't important! What's important is trying to stay in the moment - it doesn't matter if the mood was caused by a normal shift or bipolar (unless the mood is exaggerated and/or out of control). So I acknowledge it, write it down, try to ignore it and downplay it and move on.

And then I end up obsessing over it. And analyzing it in spite of myself and my best intentions. Because this is what I do. This is what I always do. This is what I'm trying to correct. Because it can lead to another spiral if I let it. Which seems to always lead to depression.

Funny thing is, I don't feel depressed. I'm not sure I could make myself feel depressed. But I'm still trying to. Or at least still hanging on to these "bipolar swings", playing up their significance. Trying to convince myself that every emotional shift is the bipolar disorder and not me. Because remember? I'm ACOA. I'm bipolar. I'm different because of this and so I don't fit in and I have to categorize myself and give myself these labels - because I've held so tightly to them, and for so long that I don't know how to let go.

And there's still that part that doesn't want to let go. It's almost like a drug. Depression is my drug. I've become dependent on it to govern how I act, how I see myself, and how others relate to me. If I feel good, I start jonesing for that familiar depression. I'm a druggie - and drug addiction is a hard habit to break.

But I'm trying. By God am I trying. And I'm stumbling. So I dust myself off. I move forward. And I fight the urge to shut down and spiral. I've come a long way over the last year and 9 months. . . but that drug . . . it tempts me. It haunts me.

Say no to drugs y'all. And God DAMN that was a ramble!

Quick update

Just a quickie for now.

I got back from the nursing conference in Vegas yesterday, which was okay. At times. At other times it was boring. Or annoying. Or funny. Or loud. (I don't like Vegas - I don't gamble, don't drink, don't party, and I don't like hookers - but at least there's free porn!! Everyone likes that!)

So, it was tiring, I learned stuff, got some free stuff, and spent WAY too much money for mediocre food.

I should have a real post in a few days. I had another kind of epiphany. Sort of. Thanks to Chancy Pants. Also? M had given me homework which I have been diligently doing.

I'm off to bed! I work in the morning. I'll catch you all on the flipside. (movie reference? Anyone?)

Good Morning

Well good morning everyone. Nice to see everyone up. Or sleeping. I can't see you, you know, so I have no idea what you're doing. You could be sitting there buck naked save for an awkwardly large moose hat, sipping a Sangria, rocking out to Conway Twitty. And I wouldn't judge you for that. (Actually, I would. Conway Twitty? Come on!).

This isn't a real post. Well, I guess it's real in the sense that you can read it, but it doesn't have any eye opening content. That post will come later in the week. I've had a flurry of thoughts and revelations and acceptances over the past couple of weeks (no, I'm not manic - shut up) and I've been trying to organize them so that they actually make sense.

Which is hard when you're me. And you want to overanalyze and make everything perfect. Which is exactly what I'm trying not to do.

So yeah.

And I'm flying out to Las Vegas today for a mom/baby/neonatal nursing conference. Which should be fun. Except that it's in Vegas. Vegas is hot. And I don't drink, party, or gamble, and I don't like hookers, so I'm kinda screwed. Oh, and I'm too cheap to go to a show so don't even suggest that.

I'm going to learn lots and otherwise be awesome. And I got a new tattoo of Chance - my therapy horse. And it hurt like FUCK. Sweet JESUS did it hurt! I'll post pics when it's healed (my calf is still swollen from it).

Have a great week! I hope to post again on Thursday :)

A little bit about today

I'm going to write about today I think. Maybe more. I'm not sure yet.

See, today was one of those annoying days. One of those days where I feel confused, frustrated, utterly lost in my own skin. One of those days I really hate the mood swings of bipolar disorder. A day where I could burst into tears at any moment for any reason or no reason. Where I have so much purposeless, nervous, kinetic energy that I don't know what to do so all I can do is sleep. And that's what I did. I took a nap. But it was short and light and I couldn't turn off my brain and I was so fidgety and just . . . UGH that I went downstairs to box. Sometimes boxing helps. Today, it didn't.

My son had a cub scout thing today. A hike in a park, geo caching, ultimate frisbee. Fun kid stuff. And fun for the kids. Me? Not so much. Today reinforced that I don't really like kids - except for my own. I'm not good with them. They annoy and confound me. My hubby? He's fabulous with them. He jumped right in there with the scout leaders, working with the kids. I stood back and felt awkward. Probably looked it, too. And I didn't want to socialize. At all. Probably because of feeling everything above, being around screaming kids, and it being bloody hot out. I think I did okay . . . except for wanting to crawl out of my skin.

Dumb thing is, if I had stayed at home, I have no idea what I would have done. I have a feeling I would have stared motionless at the wall, too overwhelmed by my feelings to do much of anything. I would have accomplished nothing. Because of this, I've been keeping my days off busy. If I have appointments, errands to run, cleaning to do . . . I can't spend time thinking about my moods. The more I'm distracted, the better I do.

I'm just frustrated. I just want to be better and not have the mood swings. I'm focused so much on not self sabotaging and stopping negative self talk that I truly expect I'll just *poof* be better and everything will work out perfectly and I'll be okay and happy. And, well, I'm shit outta luck there because sadly, that's not how the world works. That's not how bipolar works.

I know I'll have these bad days. I fucking know this. I know I'll have full on mood episodes. I fucking know that too. But I forget. Because in my mind, I should be better

That's all I got. I'm too pissy and annoyed and close to tears to write anything else. Tomorrow will be better. I got shit planned.