Well, it's Friday

I want to start by saying that I fucking HATE bipolar disorder. I really, really, fucking hate it. Like, a LOT.

I worked on Wednesday and it was a horrible day. It was busy, which was probably good, because it kept me distracted. My mood was awful. I was depressed, tired, full of despair, angry, and a host of other negative feelings. I cut (I have my scalpel in my locker). When I got home I lost it. And I lost it good. It was the ugly cry X10 and I wanted to die. Or, at the very least, I wanted to cut my arm to shreds. Hubs and kiddo had to work overtime pulling me from the brink. It was so bad.

Then yesterday, Thursday, I had a mandatory class for work. Knowing how my mood has been I was dreading it. But I ended up hypomanic. I was inappropriate and obnoxious. I was entertaining. I had fun. It was wonderful! It was glorious! Thank GOD!

After class I had therapy and we started trauma work. It went well. M gave me some ideas on how to manage my overreactive emotions. Yesterday was a good day. Hooray!! A good day!

And then there's today. A day that's really not a good day. Again I want to curl in a ball and not exist. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to be okay. To interact with people. But I'm so fucking angry today. At everything. And I feel exhausted and overwhelmed. And depressed. And like everything is pointless and stupid. I'm trying to counter, trying to stay positive, trying to remain calm and destress . . .

I really hate this. Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just be okay? Why do I have to fight depression so much? I don't want to feel everything so much.

I'm meeting a friend for coffee which means interaction which will exhaust me more. And I work tomorrow which will mean interaction which may exhaust me more.

Or maybe I'll be hypomanic again, who knows?

That's the thing though - I never know. And that's exhausting.

I have more I want to write I just don't have it in me right now.

I'm Not Sure What to Think

I'm really not.

I'm sitting down to write because I've felt like I've needed to all day (I've been out at the therapeutic riding center all day working with both the kids and horses).But now that I'm sitting to write, I find I'm at a loss of words.

I've been struggling again, I think that's a given. I had ECT yesterday and I thought "oh good. I can talk to Dr. M and figure out something to do about these recurring depressive symptoms." I told the nurses as they did my intake and started my IV and they urged me to talk to Dr. M.

So I did.

And he really didn't tell me what I wanted to hear.

One, it can take up to 6 months to get the full benefits of ECT. Two, I need to go easy on myself, be gentle, and give myself time - it took awhile for me to get this sick, it's going to take awhile for me to get better. Three, I need to learn how to better manage/regulate my moods - it appears I'm getting triggered, having an exaggerated, bipolar mood reaction, and that I'm mismanaging that reaction (hence the episodes of despair or sobbing or cutting or intense anger).

I told him I was going back to a DBT group and he got a huge smile on his face. "Good. That will be good for you." The lead nurse, J, agreed that DBT would be wonderful for me.

So the plan stays: my current meds, ECT every other week, and therapy - both my regular and the DBT group.

Here's what's frustrating though: I'd had a couple of fairly good days and I had ECT and group yesterday. And today, today I'm at the riding center all day. Mucked stalls in the morning, work with the kids in the afternoon, spend time with my fave horse and barn buddy there, Thor (who, strangely, happens to be Dr. M's horse). All day I had to keep fighting off despair. It kept washing over me. Random times, no rhyme or reason. I'd be petting Thor and suddenly all I could think about was how nothing really mattered, everything was pointless, and that I'd eventually end up killing myself because nothing gets better. Ever.

I'd throw everything I could into fighting those thoughts and feelings. I do what I'm supposed to do: remain present, acknowledge the feelings, allow them to pass, replace negative thoughts with positive ones. Everything that I practice, that I've been taught to do . . . I do it. Then I finally resort to distraction. I go find something to do or someone to talk to or I immerse myself in grooming. Whatever I can to stay on top.

Today I had that despair wash over me at least 10 times. Even though I would count this a "pretty good" day, I still had to fight so much to stay on top.

Is this how it's always going to be? Always fighting, always struggling, every day? This is what I worry about. Because I don't want to do this every day. I don't want to fight my own mind every day. I'm worried that at some point I'll be too tired. Because what's the point? Why struggle?

I shouldn't think like that. That's not productive, right? I'm just so frustrated.

Well, I have therapy on Thursday, so we'll see what M has to say about all this.

Stupid

I had a great therapy session yesterday, I really did. Everything that was in my last blog post? We talked about that.

He pointed out that I still haven't completely accepted my diagnosis. I mean, I've accepted it, I truly believe I have bipolar disorder, but I haven't fully accepted everything that that entails. For example, even when I'm stable - reeeeeally stable - I can still have wide, wild mood swings for no reason at all. That's just part of bipolar disorder. That truly, for the rest of my life, I have to be hyper vigilant of my moods. I'll have to always monitor my moods, just like a diabetic monitors their blood sugar. There's no real way around it.

I hate that. Like, I really hate that. I wanted to have ECT and just be . . . okay. Normal. But that's just not the case. And it's super fucking frustrating. I don't want to deal with it anymore. I don't want to deal with bipolar disorder anymore.

Depressive Symptoms Coming Back

Just got back from a week long vacation to California.

We spent a couple days in Orange County visiting my family. We stayed with my Grandma (on my dad's side) and spent time with my aunts and uncle. It's always great seeing them but it was taxing. Interacting with them really took it out of me - more so than I thought it was going to.

Then we headed to San Diego for Comic Con and the zoo. We spend 5 days there, stayed in a little studio apartment. And I didn't handle it as well as I wanted to.

What was going on, you ask?

I've been having some depressive symptoms coming back. Getting overwhelmed easily, turning into a horrid rage monster at the slightest provocation, having intense feelings of despair wash over me for seemingly no reason, wanting/needing to cut, suicidal thoughts. . .

Let me give you some examples:
 
     - We're at comic con, waiting in a line. The line starts to move forward but the person in front of us lags and isn't moving forward right away. My blood boils, fists clench, teeth grind. It takes every ounce of self control not to shove the person and tell them to MOVE THE FUCK FORWARD ALREADY!! ARE YOU THAT FUCKING STUPID??? CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT THE FUCKING LIKE IS MOVING?? FUCKING MOVE!!!!!!!!! I shake, I take deep breaths, I try to think of calming things and then suddenly I feel like crying because everything is too much to handle. Everything is too hard and too overwhelming.

     - We get home yesterday and hubbs and I have sex. And it was good. And we're snuggling after and I get flooded with despair. Life really has no meaning. I spend every day fighting my distorted thoughts and fighting my feelings and it's not worth it. It's not going to get better. I need to cut. I need to feel a blade slicing through my skin. That's easier than dealing with this. I start to tear up, start to cry, and I know I'm going to lose my shit and I DO NOT want to lose my shit because if I do I won't be able to stop the tears and I KNOW I'll end up cutting. So I talk to hubbs and somehow - don't ask me how - I manage to not lose my shit. I push on and we go shopping and have dinner and watch some tv, but the whole time I'm still struggling with feelings of despair.

     - Today I had ECT (would have normally had it on Monday but was in California). I would prefer to have ECT on Mondays because I know my mom can pick me up and I have Mondays off. So I told the nurse that I would need to have ECT next Monday, not Wednesday. I'm waking up, getting my shoes on and whatnot and she hands me my discharge paper which has my next appointment on it. Which is for a week from Monday (meaning a week and a half between sessions). I guess my expression gave away what I was feeling because she asked what was wrong. I told her I didn't feel comfortable waiting that long (but Dr. M doesn't want me in earlier than a week). It felt like my world was crashing down around me. Like I couldn't possibly cope, I can't possibly handle this. I'm already struggling and now I have to wait a week and a half. I nearly broke down sobbing.

Scenarios like those? They happen a lot. A lot. Several times a day, every day. For the most, part I can keep them under wraps, these stupid fucking mood swings (and by under wraps I mean I haven't attacked anyone, screamed at anyone, curled myself into a little ball and rocked myself while mumbling, break down sobbing uncontrollably, or cut myself). But I come close. Scarily close. And even though I don't "officially" lose my shit, I'm still dealing with these feelings. I'm still struggling to manage them.

I keep reminding myself that I'm doing way better than before I started ECT. Way better (considering I was planning on killing myself if I wasn't approved for it or if it didn't help - scary, but true). I spend more time feeling "okay" than I do feeling like shit - and that's good. (Though I wish I spent more time feeling happy).

And again - take things a day at a time, a moment at a time. I also think I need to lower my expectations. It's just so frustrating.