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.

Some thoughts on stability . . .

It's awesome.

That's it.

Nothing more to see here.

Okay, there is.

If you've been following this blog at all, you know how much shit I've gone through. You know about my total of 4 hospitalizations. My self harm (my arm looks like shit, by the way). My very real brush with death. You know about how every single day of my life is a struggle against my brain. And there are some things that you don't know about - the things that I don't share here because they're too personal or awful or embarrassing.

Which is why this post is kinda special.

Because I finally feel stable. More than just stable - I feel good. I feel like me. I'm actually feeling happy and joyful and upbeat and positive. I'm enjoying life.

I'm enjoying life.

That's huge, y'all. I have hated life for the last 2.5 years. Hated it. I knew for certain that I would die by my own hand - it was just a matter of when (and that almost happened the end of May).

But now . . . Stability. Happiness. Hope.

I think there's a couple of reasons for this. First and foremost, Brintellix. A brand-spanking new antidepressant that I've been on for 2.5 weeks. The first week and a half sucked. Royally. Mood swings and uncontrolled rage. But then something magical happened: it worked. I started feeling better. The anger lessened. My mood improved. I started feeling like me. Me.

And second, trauma work. As much as trauma work sucks (and it does suck), it's helping. I'm identifying triggers, working past them, learning coping skills, and learning forgiveness.

These two things are feeding off each other and I'm continuing to improve. That's not to say I don't have my moments - I'm still bipolar after all and my mood can change in an instant - but I'm definitely coping with that more effectively to where it's not debilitating like it was before.

This all feels so very strange and wonderful. I honestly never thought I'd reach this point. I'm so glad I did.

Some Thoughts on Suicide

Suicide is a touchy subject. It is, isn't it? The proverbial elephant in the room. Mental illness is bad enough, but bring suicide into the mix . . .

There are two things that that really get my goat about talking about suicide. Two stereotypes that people seem to hold onto.

1. People who talk about suicide are looking for attention

2. Suicide is selfish

Going into a talk about suicide with this mindset is a recipe for disaster.

Let me start by saying this: unless you've been at the point where suicide seems like the only answer, you don't get to tell me how I feel. You don't get to tell me to "buck up and look at the bright side."

There are a few things I want to address and I don't think I will do this as eloquently or as straight forward as I would like. My brain is scattered right now.

We all know what suicide is - taking one's life. We all know there is attempted suicide, completed suicide, and suicidal ideation (thinking about suicide). And there are warning signs, which often go unnoticed. I will be addressing the warning signs, don't worry.

Here's a point I want to drive home to y'all: most people who contemplate suicide truly don't want to die. They simply want the pain to stop and they see ending their life as the only way to accomplish this. Let me sat this again: WE DON'T WANT TO DIE.

Have you ever been in that much pain? That much emotional pain that you want to die? I have. Several times. Sobbing, rocking myself, knowing that things can't possibly better, that I'm a burden on my family and friends because of my constant mood swings and neediness. Knowing that my illness, bipolar disorder, will be with me my entire life and that I'll face more episodes like this, worsening depression, mania, and shorter periods of remission. I can't face the truth that I don't feel - that I often don't feel love for my husband or son - I can only fake it. That I don't feel joy or happiness and everything that once has meaning is now dead to me. That sometimes I'm so apathetic I can't even move. It's a physical pain too - exhaustion beyond belief, headaches, nausea. I'd give anything to make it stop. I'd do any thing to make it stop. And in those moments, in those moments of weakness . . . suicide seems plausible. Suicide seems like the only answer.

But I'm lucky. I'm still able to rationalize things. I think of my son and husband and I don't want to hurt them. I mainly don't want to scar my son with losing his mother. He's the reason I haven't taken pills. He's the reason I've had my husband lock up all of my pills in our safe, to which I don't know the combination.

Why am I telling you this? Why am I getting so personal with this? Because it's real. Because it happens. Because an educated, rational, once happy person has recently considered taking a whole bottle of propanolol to end her life - even though she has a wonderful family and group of friends and support system.

I've been talking about suicide lately, about not wanting to exist. I always say that I don't want to die, but that I don't want to exist. If I could just not exist until I felt better. Or that I want to sleep and just not wake up . . . those are words to pay attention to. Those are words of someone looking for help - not someone looking for attention. Do I get attention from saying things like that? You bet your sweet ass I do. I get attention from my hubby and my therapist mainly. My manager. But I need that attention. I need for someone to say, "you matter. You're important. I'm here for you." And that's all. I need to hear that. I have all the reasons I need to kill myself - give me a reason not to. And not by chastising me and telling me that I'll be hurting my family - do you think I don't know that? Trust me - I know that. But part of me thinks they'd be better off without me. Gently remind me that you'd rather have me around, even if I'm depressed and moody and sullen. That you love me no matter what. Don't make it about you. Don't tell me how it would affect you.

So is suicide selfish? In a way, yes. But when you're in that frame of mind, when you see it as your only out, it doesn't seem selfish. It seems like your only saving grace. It seems like you're doing everyone else a favor. When you go on about how my suicide will affect you, about how it will affect your family, my family, my friends, this person and that person, you diminish my feelings. You're telling me that everyone matters more than me and what I'm feeling and what I'm going through. What I'm feeling is real. Even though it may be twisted, illogical thinking, it's real. And to stomp on that, well, it does more harm than good. Acknowledge my feelings, try to understand them - even you you may not. Tell me you care and you want to help. Validate me. Hear me. Let me vent. Don't make my feelings about you.

Let's look at some warning signs for suicide:

1. Talking about suicide
2. Preoccupation with death
3. Feelings of hopelessness/despair
4. No hope for future
5. Self loathing
6. Withdrawing from others
7. "Getting affairs in order"
8. Self destructive behavior
9. Sleep problems
10. Sudden changes in mood or appearance
11. Sudden calmness

If you notice these signs in someone, talk to them. Let them know you care. Ask them about suicide - asking them isn't suddenly going to make them suicidal if they weren't before. On the contrary - it lets them know that you're open to talking to them about it and helping.

I have many things on this list tucked under my belt right now, which is why I'm worrisome to my hubby, therapist and psychiatrist. But we've taken precautions. We've talked openly about it. And I feel safe. Help someone else feel safe. Please.

If you're feeling suicidal, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at: 1-800-273-8255

Want to more things NOT to say to someone who is suicidal? Read this blog post.

It's been awhile

So yeah. It's been awhile since my last post and quite a bit has happened. Let's see, last post was about depression coming back.

And that is still the case I'm afraid. But I also have this really awesome thing called anxiety. And it's been bad. I have panic attacks when I try and sleep. At first it was just with trying to nap. Then it started with going to bed at night. Racing heart, feeling of impending doom, shakiness, panic. It happens at random times throughout the day too. Sometimes it's constant throughout the day.

Hell, I'm almost in a full panic attack right now, writing this.

I've had irritability and insomnia - to the point where I've been taking klonopin to sleep.

I have all the symptoms of a mixed episode starting. At first I was thinking it might be caused by Deplin - a folic acid supplement that my psych doc put me on. I found one site that listed insomnia, irritability and anxiety as side effects. But I looked it up on my work's fancy info site and it seems that this is not the case (at least for 99% of people - who knows, maybe I'm that 1%). It can cause acne though - which has gotten horrifically bad. So I stopped taking the Deplin, just in case.

The anxiety and irritability continues (the insomnia has gotten better, thank God).

I've had some other issues (that I won't discuss here) which has led to my psych doc having me increase my geodon back up to 80mg - which I really do not want to do (last night was my first increased dose and I certainly feel the effects today - namely fatigue and grogginess). He's also considering starting me on Depakote, which we'll discuss when I see him on Monday (I have strong reservations about going on this drug because of the side effects). He's also started the process of trying to get me seen by the mood experts at Mass General in Boston. I want to go so badly but I'm not terribly hopeful that it will happen.

I've taken to rating my mood on a scale from 1-10, and most days it's around a 3. I'd like it around a 6. I've had some 2's, and I've had a few 4's as well. But, still pretty low. And did I mention anxiety? And irritability? Oh I have? Okay.

What else . . . I was in on a code on a baby and the baby died. This was my first infant death (though I've coded many babies). I took it pretty hard - harder than I thought I would. So hard, even, that my brain went into overdrive giving me full blown depression with suicidal ideation for a day. And then - poof - gone. My brain does not handle stress well at all apparently.

Speaking of stress, I still get overwhelmed at work. I'm keeping my shit together just fine, I just feel overwhelmed and exhausted after working. And during working. Especially since almost every day I've worked we've done 8-10 deliveries. So crazy busy. But I'm handling it better than I was even a month ago, which makes me feel hopeful that at some point I'll be able to go back to full time. Probably not anytime soon, but at some point (I still have a hard time handling two days a week - let alone 3 right now). But I'll get there.

And lastly, my son has been having some anxiety issues of his own - mostly about something happening to my hubby or I (or his uncle). This has been going on for weeks. A few days ago he asked me tons of questions about my bipolar (not that he called it that - he's 7). Wanting to know why I act the way I do, why do I get angry or cry for no reason, why am I sad, why doesn't my brain work right, why do I have to take so many pills, will I always be like this. That kinda stuff. And he made a request that actually kinda hurt - he asked to see a therapist. He wants to "talk to someone about this like you do". It broke my heart a little because I know that quite a bit of his anxiety is cause by my instability. But I'll find a child therapist for him so he can talk - as much as he needs to. Maybe it's only one session. Maybe it's several. I don't know.

Alright. I've written enough for now. A brief overview of what the hell has been going on.

Stuck

You see that cow? That cow is me. Although, if I was going to be a cow I'd be one of the black and white dairy cows because I find them way cuter. Anyway, that cow is me. Stuck.

I'm in full blown depression again thanks to med tweaking. The last 3 days have been a complete hell of apathy, sadness, crippling depression, hopelessness, and constant crying. In short, it has sucked. The past 3 days I haven't known how I was possibly going to make it through the day. I did, obviously, but I marvel that I was able to pull it off (it helps that my track record for making it through shitty days is 100% . . . think about it).

When I'm not balling my eyes out I'm stuck in this no-man's-land of complete apathy. I don't care about anything. I don't want to do anything. I could just stare off into space or at the wall and that would be perfectly fine with me. Or I could sleep to escape everything (which doesn't work for me because my body seems to have forgotten how to nap).

This is the part of depression I think that many people forget. It's easy to pay attention to the person in pain who is sobbing uncontrollably or who is suicidal. But to look at me today, right now, you may balk at the idea of me being depressed. Because I'm not actively showing it.

Here's my day so far: I drug myself out of bed at 8 for the sole reason that I had to pee. Once up, I decided it would be better for me to just stay up, rather than just lying around in bed. I came out to the living room and sat on the couch. I then proceeded to stare off into space for about 30 minutes. You need to do something, I told myself. Okay, alright, I'll make coffee and check my email. That killed about 5 minutes. I sat back down on the couch and stared at my coffee cup for about another 30 minutes. You should do something. Okay, what? Go to the gym, clean the bathrooms, shower, get your son from Grandma's who YOU HAVEN'T SEEN FOR 3 DAYS BECAUSE YOU CAN'T EVEN COPE WITH THINGS!!! That's too much work. I don't care. So I got on the computer and got on Pinterest fro 20 minutes, not even paying much attention to what I was scrolling through.

I won't work out today because putting on gym clothes is too much work. Seriously. That, and I don't care. I'm going to do my best to clean the bathrooms - not because I want to or need to or have the energy to, but because I don't want my hubby to judge me for not accomplishing anything. However, if I don't get it done? I don't care. I want to go to the grocery store and get strawberries and a pineapple but that will involve me showering and leaving the house. And interacting with people. This, I probably will do because my craving for strawberries and pineapple is great. So that's one thing. (but how long will it take me to get showered?)

Now the hard thing . . . picking up my son from Grandma's house. He's been over there since Sunday. He's spent the night every night. My mother-in-law is watching him because I haven't been able to cope with things. Like being around my son. I want to see him, truly, I do, but I'm worried about breaking down in front of him. I'm worried about how I'll act around him (bitchy and snippy and short-tempered is my guess). He's 7 - he doesn't deserve that.

My apathy is pronounced. I don't want to do anything. I don't care about anything. Everything that used to bring me joy (family, drawing, painting, sewing . . .) doesn't anymore. At. All. I'd do just as well staring at the wall. I forced myself to paint yesterday and I felt nothing doing it. Just going through the motions. I'm just going through the motions with everything.

It's easy to see "how depressed" I am when I'm crying. When I'm laying on the floor sobbing and wanting to die. It's obvious then. But at times like this, when I'm emotionally walled up and apathetic, it's a bit more difficult. It's just as bad right now, it's just not as raw. And I can certainly hide it better in this state (which I hope I can do at work tomorrow).

So I'm stuck. I'm stuck in this depressive, apathetic state, which is no fun at all. And even though I'm trying to do things differently so I can change this, I almost don't care enough to do that.

Almost.