Frustrated

Well. I have 6 ECT treatments under my belt. And overall, I'm feeling better. Hubbs has noticed a positive change. Yaaaaaay.

But I'm fucking frustrated. Why? I seem to have slipped into a mixed state. Meaning? I'm hyperirritable. I'm a cranky-ass bitch. And I feel like I may snap - either go off or break down, I'm not sure which. This is a shitty feeling to have - especially after starting to feel better.

I'm trying to keep things in perspective.  First and foremost - you were close to killing yourself. ANY reprieve from feeling that shitty is to be cherished. Secondly, the majority of your days over the past 2 weeks were an improvement over where you had been.

I don't know what it is, really . . . .

I've been feeling better. I want to go do things. I want to start working out again, get in shape, eat healthier. I want to do more things with my family, participate in life again, go back to work. I'm excited to do this stuff . . .

And then this weekend hits. And my mood is crap. I'm irritable, bitchy. And today . . . ugh. The depression is trying to weasel its way back in. The despair. Everything is trying to come back. I'm on pinterest and see a post about cutting . . . I feel the draw, it's a trigger. Why? Why is it such a trigger? I'm feeling better . . .

I'm scared. I realize, I must be scared. I've struggled for so long, I don't know how to not struggle. I don't know how to not be depressed. And I realize, I don't want to struggle anymore - I don't want to have bad days. I think I equate bad days with failure. (God forbid I fail).

Again I have to remind myself that I have a chronic, lifelong, illness and that I get to battle my brain and emotions every. Single. Day.

And I don't fucking want to. I want the ECT to work and be done with it. I don't want to have to struggle every day. I just want to be fine. Yeah, I know: whoa is me, life is unfair. Stop with the pity party, right?

Well fuck you.

Thank  God I have therapy on Thursday.. Fuck.

Bit of a conundrum

Yes. I'm facing a conundrum.

Remember how my hope went *poof*? Well. I decided to try something. See, I'm not all that hopeful that increasing my seroquel is going to do anything for the depression. I'm not hopeful at all, actually.

So I did something.

Last night I skipped taking my seroquel.

Yep. I didn't take it. And I didn't sleep. Maybe 3 hours? Maybe? And this morning I was wide awake and felt deliciously hypomanic. Well, not too high actually - just good. Awake, good, even.

And then I got tremors - like, bad. And some anxiety.

We went to my mom's house this morning to do Christmas there as I work tomorrow (xmas). My brother and his family was there, hubby's mom and brother, and it was okay.

We were there for 2 hours and towards the end my mood was starting to plummet. Probably a combo of lack of sleep and extended family time. Right?

I've been working on my book this afternoon, actually accomplishing something, getting a little more direction with it.

My mood right now is weird. I'm a little anxious and feel . . . weird. Just, weird. I feel a little down, empty, tired, dizzy almost, lightheaded at times, and there's some irritability creeping in. The depression isn't as pressing as it normally is, which is nice, but it's certainly not gone. But I have some of the underlying hypomania.

My conundrum: do I skip the seroquel again and see what happens? See if I get more hypo? Or do I take it as prescribed, like a good girl, and hope that 600mg lifts my depression?

I work tomorrow, so if I skip the seroquel again, and get more hypo . . . well, it could be decidedly not good. But I have klonopin in my purse to knock me down.

I keep thinking that I should be good, I should be compliant and take my meds as prescribed. I mean, Mary told me not to stop the seroquel (or any med on my own). And I know better. I know better than to just to stop taking a med. Especially cold turkey. When I skipped doses of geodon I had rebound depression - bad. Would that happen with missing another dose or 2 of seroquel? Or hypomania? Or mixed?

I want to miss another dose, but I'll admit - I'm scared to.

I was originally put on an antipsychotic for mania - I was hospitalized a year ago November for that. And, I really haven't had mania since then (well, I've had some of the irritable hypomania sporadically, or an hour or two of slightly euphoric mania). But for the most part? Nothing. Depression.

I had a brief 2 month span this past summer where I felt pretty stable. Then boom - horrid depression again.

So what do I do? Stop seroquel on my own against the advice of my psych doc (and therapist)? Or keep taking it and hope against hope that the increased dose helps?

Gaaaaaaahhhhh!!! I hate this! Why can't shit just work?

Fuck me.

It's been a bit . . .

So it's been almost 2 weeks since my last post. I haven't much felt like writing.

But I do today.

I've been on the Brintellix for around 3 weeks now. My anxiety had started to get bad 2 weeks ago and I was worried that it would get as bad as it was the last time I was on it. I've noticed, however, that over the last week the anxiety has lessened. It's there every once in awhile, but it's manageable and not terribly bothersome.

And that's good news, right?

Sad thing? The Brintellix isn't really helping my mood. Not like it did the last time I was on it. I've had one good day (last Sunday) - a day where I felt "normal", happy, and content with life. I was at work, it was busy, and I had fun. But every other day? Just like before going back on Brintellix.

What do those days look like?

An overall feeling of being "down". I'm withdrawn. I don't want to participate in life. I'd rather nap the day away so I don't have to feel what I'm feeling. And what I'm feeling is all muted - except for my anger. I'm quick to anger. Everything seems to irritate or annoy me. I want to be by myself - I don't want to interact with anyone - family included.

I'm doing what I can to counter these feelings - don't think I'm giving up, or giving in. I'm not. I'm forcing myself to be more positive and upbeat (I don't know how well that's working - I should ask friends and family about that). I'm not doing the negative things I used to do (catastrophizing, all or nothing thinking, shit like that). I'm trying my best to be mindful - to stay in the moment. I'm forcing myself to interact.

Here's the thing - I'm stable. I'm the most stable I've been in 3 years. I'm not having big swings. I'm not hypomanic, I'm not horribly depressed. Nope. Stable. And that's good. The last thing I need is to have a major swing and be hospitalized again. But this low level depression? I think that's my baseline. I think that I'm stuck here and that's just how it's going to be. I'll have a good day here and there and all the others I'm going to have to fight for. I really don't want to accept this, but I don't think I have any other choice.

But wait - there's more!

I've been trying hard to be more "present" at home, around hubby and son. I had been getting bad about ignoring them, taking them for granted, lashing out at them. And I've been trying to be better about it. I don't know how well I'm doing in that regard. Sadly, I've felt myself starting to slip again. Feeling myself starting to withdraw more. Wanting to be alone and to be left alone. I'm trying to ignore/counter this as it's not good for anyone. I feel my anger sneaking back in. Ugh.

And also? Seroquel. FUCK Seroquel. I've had issues with drowsiness/grogginess/somnolence since I started it. I've had issues with my appetite since starting it (I've gained 17 pounds in around 13 weeks). And those two issues are getting progressively worse. It takes me around an hour to wake up in the morning and by midday I'm groggy and a little zombie like. The other thing, which has cropped up recently, is doing things in the middle of the night and not remembering them. The other night I kinda "woke up" standing in the closet with the light on - I have absolutely no recollection of getting up and walking into the closet. I don't remember waking up to go to the bathroom. If I tell hubby something after I've gone to sleep, I don't remember it. Now, maybe that part is only mildly annoying, but I would prefer for it not to get worse.

I see my psychiatrist in 2 weeks and I'm going to request that I go off of Seroquel. I'll start back up on the Geodon, whatever, I don't care. I didn't like the side effects of Geodon but they are preferable to the side effects of Seroquel. I have samples of 150mg Seroquel (I'm currently taking 300mg), so in a few days I'm going to drop my dose down - start to wean myself off. It's not like I felt a difference from when I was on 50mg vs 300mg.

So yeah. That's it. I'm frustrated. But what else is new, right?

Just a quick update . . .

This is just a real quick update and I'll write a real post soon. I'm back on the Brintellix (you may remember that I was on it before around 3 months ago - it worked, my mood was getting so much better, but it gave me crippling anxiety). Well, the seroquel isn't doing much for my depression which is starting to get bad again (not suicidal bad, but I-don't-want-to-participate-in-life bad). It's taking a toll on hubby and son and so the decision was made to try Brintellix again. My pdoc is hopeful that the seroquel will help control the anxiety better than the geodon did. We'll see. I'm anxious as I type this so . . .

Cancer . . . ?

As I sit here writing this, I feel depressed, but I also almost feel nothing. I know I'm depressed - it's obvious. But I'm so emotionally drained that I truly don't feel anything. I'm flat. I'm going through the motions trying to feel, trying to relate, trying to pull myself up and participate in life . . . but I just can't. There's nothing there anymore.I have no joy what so ever in life. I only exist. I don't want to exist. I want to disappear. I want to stop feeling the way Im feeling. I'm so sick of it. I'm done with it.

I had a mammogram and ultrasound on Thursday for a lump I found in my left breast. Turns out the lump is a large cyst. I felt relieved. Until the radiologist came to talk to me. I have calcifications in the axillary lymph nodes on my right side.

The radiologist said I probably have cancer. Cancer. Like I need something else going wrong in my life.

The radiologist thinks it's most likely a sarcoma in the chest that has metastasized. He recommends a chest CT and possibly an MRI. I see an oncologist on the 25th.

I think I've been through enough in my life without adding cancer to the mix. I'm scared. I cried in my truck after he gave me the news, but I haven't cried since. I feel like I need to. Maybe I will in therapy on Thursday. This is making my depression worse. Again, as if that wasn't bad enough. I feel like giving up. I can barely manage myself right now. I already want to not exist because I hate how I feel. And now I'm facing chemo and radiation on top of it all. It seems pointless. Why bother fighting to live when the majority of me doesn't want to?

I hate the waiting. I just want to know. Tell me what it is and what the plan of action is. I just need to know.

Increasing my Seroquel

I saw my pdoc yesterday and we're increasing my seroquel. I'll have 4 days at 150mg, 4 days at 200mg, and then be up to the target dose of 300mg (I've only been taking 50mg over the past 2 weeks). I'm hoping it works. We'll see.

When she first gave me the seroquel 2 weeks ago, she said there would be no difference in the level of sedation between 50mg and the higher doses. Yesterday she told me I might notice increased sedation. WTF? I've already noticed that I'm more sleepy throughout the day and have a harder time getting up in the morning and now you're telling me that this will get worse. Thanks. It's also increased my appetite 10 fold and I'm already gaining weight. If this doesn't slow down it'll be a deal breaker for me. (To counter this I'm getting my butt back to the gym and using Sensa - though it's hard to work out when you're sleepy and have no motivation thanks to worsening depression).

I had decided that I would give this med change 8 weeks to fully take effect. I think that's more than reasonable. Which means I still have 6 weeks to go. I'll be honest - I'm not optimistic. One might argue that I wasn't optimistic with the Brintellix and that worked. And that would be true. I'm hoping that seroquel will prove me wrong. I don't know if I'll wait the full 8 weeks. I might decide at 6 weeks whether or not it's working for me. If not, I want back on the Brintellix. If the anxiety comes back then we treat it. I'm tired of feeling like crap.

The last 2 weeks have been rough. I've cried almost every day and I'm back to not wanting to exist. I'm back to thinking that everything is hopeless and pointless and why should I bother trying. Sadly, what comes next is not wanting to live. And that quickly spirals into suicidal ideation. I don't want to go there. I don't want to be there. I want to feel good. I want to feel happy. I want to be stable. I'm tired of this fucking unrelenting depression.

It's frustrating to have felt so good and to now feel so bad. And no, it's not fair. It's like I'm not supposed to be happy. I'm not supposed to be well. And that's a bunch of bullshit.

Here we go again . . .

July 21st I posted something marvelous - how good I was feeling. I was feeling stable, happy, enjoying life.

You'll notice my use of the word was.

I'm no longer there. I'm no longer that girl. I should have known that it would be too good to be true.

Here's what happened: I had to stop the Brintellix. Why? Because my pdoc is refusing to prescribe it. Why? Because it was causing anxiety. Constant, unrelenting anxiety with panic attacks. That was getting worse. To the point of me not being able to sleep.

But even with the anxiety, my mood was good. Optimistic. Joyous at times. Everything I would want it to be.

But alas, no Brintellix for me.

My pdoc had another idea. Seroquel XR. There is a lot of strong research out there pointing to Seroquel as being the superior choice in treating bipolar depression. The research is compelling. My pdoc is confident it will work.

Seroquel is an antipsychotic, and I'm already on an antipsychotic (geodon). There is no real need to be on two. So we're phasing out the geodon. The Seroquel is supposed to replace both the geodon and the Brintellix. This is all well and good in theory, but not so much in practice.

See, I am no longer me. I am no longer this person who enjoys life and sees it worth living. The happiness and wholeness that I felt have been ripped away from me. I am a husk again. A paper doll. A two dimensional thing incapable of feeling the normalcy and stability I experienced just 2 weeks ago.

But it's worse this time. Because I was happy. Because I could feel. And just as I was getting used to it - used to feeling normal - it's gone. Slipped through my fingers as I desperately tried to hold on. It's nothing but dust now. And you can't pile dust together and make a stone as much as you can't have "real" feelings without proper brain chemistry.

I can't fake it. It's not there. It's just not. Fucking. There. I try and be happy. I try. I might catch myself in a moment of laughter and I push myself to feel. I mean, I was laughing - I should be feeling. It registers, but only for a moment. In seconds it's gone. Two weeks ago I would have felt it. I would have felt happiness, joy, humor, elation, togetherness, solidity . . . but that's just not there anymore. And, try as I might, I can't force it.

I'm trying to give the Seroquel the old "college try". I'm trying to give it a chance. But I don't want to settle for existing. Not after knowing what it feels like to feel good.

I don't want to be a husk. I don't want to be a paper doll.

I want to be me.

I officially started trauma work

And it kinda sucks. And by "kinda sucks" I mean it's pretty awful and I'm not looking forward to this every week.

But it has to be done.

Today was my first full session of trauma work. It started with a brief recap of my past week and a half (which has been damn crappy with break downs, self harm, and tons of icky feels). Then M said, bluntly, "So let's talk about your childhood". I didn't know where to start. There's so much and it's overwhelming.

I started with my mom's fractured ankle. She fractured her ankle last Friday night falling down her stairs (I can only assume she had been drinking - she's done this before). I took her to the orthopedist yesterday and it turns out she needs surgery and can't drive for 6 weeks. Which means I'll be helping her around. Which means I have to have more interaction with her than I want to. Which raises my anxiety level and icky feels and makes me angry and uncomfortable.

I had a crap day yesterday. I only got one hour of sleep and I was in a foul mood. Then the above happened. I spent most of the afternoon crying uncontrollably. I wan't so badly to self harm. I had decided that anytime I feel like self harming I'd draw a butterfly on my arm instead. I ended up with 9 butterflies yesterday. I shredded 2 lawn chairs and threw them across the yard. I sat outside listening to music while it sprinkled on me (I was hoping for a downpour) trying to calm down, crying off and on.

And then something dawned on me. I started thinking that I was having a PTSD overreaction to something. Namely, having to help my mom out was putting me in the position of caretaker to her - the role I played growing up, taking care of her when she was drunk. Even though the situation for helping her out is different, emotionally I'm going back to when I was little. I'm dealing with childhood feels.

I told M this and he agreed that it was very probable that this is what was going on yesterday. It was a good segway into our discussion. Now, I'm not going to go into detail about what all was said. Not publicly. I'll probably write about it separately as I try to process everything.

One thing that did happen during therapy is that I emotionally shut down. I became guarded. I didn't want icky feels to flood me. This is something that I shouldn't do - I need to feel these things in order to process them, and I shut down. I'll be trying not to do that next week. I think I just had such a crappy week with feels and crying and such a horrible day yesterday with feels and crying that I couldn't take it today. So I shut down.

We spent our last 10-15 minutes talking about horses and horseback riding (I went riding last Saturday). It was a good way to decompress and try to release some of the icky feels.

This is hard, y'all. Trauma work sucks. I know it's necessary and that's fine - we'll muddle through as best we can. And hopefully I won't get thrown into a mood episode in the process.

Having some icky feels

Yep. Icky feels. I fucking hate icky feels. There are several things going on, all of which are contributing to my current state of being.

First, the Denver Comic Con was this past weekend. Hubby and I dress up, we kinda go all out. And in Cons past I've enjoyed this and have had a good time. Not the case this weekend. I spent pretty much the entire time emotionally numb. Just . . . numb. I was just kinda there. I didn't feel anything. Except when I was hyper irritable. I did have that. How fun. I was worried I was going to have issues with anxiety, but, save for one panic attack, I was okay on that front. Little things I guess . . .

Second, I'm kind of a shitty wife. And by "kind of", I mean I've been a shitty wife. Why? Well, I have had lots of shit going on mentally/emotionally the past several months and I've let it overtake me. I've become a bit self-centered. I've been very difficult to be around. And to top things off, I forgot that yesterday was father's day. Which hurt my hubby. We typically don't do gifts, but I failed to even say Happy Father's Day until I heard something on the radio about it. Oops. I feel terrible about this. I was going to write something up last night that explained things, that let him know how much I appreciate him.

But nothing came out. Not because I couldn't think of things, but because I couldn't put it into words. I felt horrible. I hurt his feelings. After everything he does for me, I couldn't even make one small acknowledgement of how amazing he is. Which made me realize that I have, indeed, been self-centered and have put my family and everything else on the back burner. Which compounded my feeling horrible but also brought up anger. Anger at what I've been doing, and anger at hubby because he's making me aware of my shortcomings.

Now, don't get me wrong, none of that is his fault, but it's what I felt and was why I couldn't write anything. So instead, I tried in vain to verbalize my appreciation and apology, tearing up and trying desperately not to. (which, hubs, I love you more than anything and I still don't know how you put up with my crazy ass).

This whole situation led to something else - me trying not to catastrophize the situation. Something I'm an expert at and something that is exceedingly detrimental to my emotional well being. So I rationalized, told myself focusing on my shortcomings would do me no good and that I needed to focus on not doing this again. Crisis averted.

Or so I thought.

This morning my icky feels were worse and I felt very self destructive. So much so that I burnt myself with a lighter. Part in punishment, part out of anger/frustration/confusion/fear. I'm not entirely sure why I did it, just that I did it and it helped very briefly. I actually wanted to be more destructive, but I at least stopped myself from doing more.

Third, I had therapy this morning. M and I went over my report from Boston (it came in and Dr. Schulman change my diagnosis back to Bipolar 2 - make up your mind!). So we talked about that and discussed my weekend, lack of emotion, the hubby situation, and my burning myself (M said he'd smack me if I did it again - I wouldn't put it past him). It was all very tense for me and not the easiest to talk about.

And then . . . and then we spent the last 20 minutes or so discussing how we were going to go about all of the trauma work that needs to be done. This is very treacherous, complicated terrain, and we have to be very careful lest we send me into another major mood episode. We agreed that the most troublesome area is my ACOA/alcoholic upbringing/mommy issues - especially since my mom is alive and I have a very strained relationship with her (and she wants desperately to be a part of my life). He asked when I last spoke with her (which was last Tuesday, after Boston) and just talking about that phone call made me tense, apprehensive, and brought up lots of nasty feels. M actually specializes in trauma (works very closely with the military and local law enforcement here) and redirected and "reset" me before I left. It was very clever, actually.

I still have all these icky feels though. From everything mentioned above. I'm trying not to dwell, not catastrophize, not ruminate, not fortune tell - all of the things that I automatically do. Which is hard and puts a lot of strain on me. I'm trying to redirect myself like M did in therapy. I'm going to read today so that I can escape my own mind for a bit. I'm not allowed to do any ACOA/codependency related stuff on my own - only during actual therapy (M doesn't think I'll be able to handle it right now and I tend to agree with him). So reading. And probably sketching. I'm forcing myself to sketch every day in hopes that I'll get my muse/inspiration/creativity back (since the Geodon stole it away).

Stupid fucking icky feels.  

Oy vey

So here's some fun stuff. On Wednesday I had therapy. My therapy sessions are an hour long. Except for Wednesday. On Wednesday my therapy session was an hour and a half. With the last 20 minutes involving my psychiatrist.

Why?

So I wouldn't be hospitalized. I really didn't want to be hospitalized. I begged, through tears, to my therapist not to send me. That I could keep myself safe, that my hubby would keep me safe and that I couldn't hurt myself because it would only hurt my hubby and son as well.

I was having pretty strong suicidal ideation. To the point where, if I didn't have my hubby and son, I would have killed myself. There was no doubt in my mind. And my therapist knew this. But we put a safety plan in place and it was understood that if I started feeling worse I would admit myself.

My psychiatrist wants me to up my dose of Depakote from 1000mg to 2000mg - he doesn't think it's the cause of my suicidal ideation. Last night I went to 1500mg and this morning I paid for it with unrelenting grogginess. After 2 more nights I'll increase to 2000mg.

My moods have been . . . not good. Yesterday I had a panic attack during our charge nurse meeting. As in tapping feet/shaking/rocking panic attack. I did my best to stay unnoticed. That didn't happen. After the meeting one of the nurses approached my manager and pointed it out to her. I had to take a Xanax (well, 0.25mg, a quarter of a Xanax) to calm down and then give my manager an update on my mental status and explain what happened. Not a good way to start the day. And my day ended with a crash c-section that resulted in a bad outcome. Only 2 months since my last bad outcome.

I did, however, get some good news today. I have an appointment at Mass General on Monday, June 9th. My psychiatrist has been wanting to send me there for a year and a half and now I actually have an appointment - and I won't even have to miss any work. Fancy that!

I had gotten a second opinion from a med specialist 2 weeks ago, but Dr. C still wants me to go - always a good idea to have a backup plan in place (plus, I'm seeing the bipolar specialists in the mood clinic there).

Good things and bad things. Hopefully now there will start to be more good things. I like good things.