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.

Some Frustration

Well. It's been almost a full month since I posted anything. It's not that I haven't had anything to write about, it's just that I haven't published it.

I've been very frustrated lately. See, I'm in a low grade depression. Chock full of apathy, negative thoughts, exhaustion, and feeling like I want to die - or at least not exist - because everything seems pointless. I often don't want to be around people or interact with them. I kinda don't want to be touched at times. I often want to sleep so that I don't have to deal with how I'm feeling.

I hate this.

I was triggered 2 weeks ago by something I read in one of my Al-Anon daily readers. It was about forgiveness. And it made me realize that I haven't forgiven my mom for her drinking. And that I can't separate her from the disease of alcoholism. I can't see her for the person she is. Anytime I come close, my walls shoot up. And they're tall, thick, and covered in barbed wire.

This trigger happened on Friday the 17th. Saturday the 18th I talked about it in Al-Anon. The following Wednesday (last Wednesday) I talked about it in therapy and then with hubby that night. I started grieving the relationship that I will never have with my mom. This, I think, is the first step in forgiving her and forming some kind of relationship (I hadn't spoken to her in over 3 months).

I then called her last Saturday and we talked for 30 minutes. It went well - better than I thought - and I decided that we can talk, but only on my terms. I'll have to wait and see how this goes.

But what's frustrating is this damn depression. I'm stable for fuck's sake!!! I shouldn't have to deal with this!!

Except that this is part of having bipolar disorder.

I can be triggered and go into a mood episode. Since I'm stable, this depressive episode isn't as bad as it could be. Which I should be thankful for. And I am. But I'm still fighting against how I think I should feel being stable (which is no swings, happy all the time, cheerful, energetic, possibly slightly hypomanic - this is unrealistic, I know, but it's my ideal), and how I actually feel.

My "should" is very unrealistic. I was starting to accept that. Starting to accept that I'll have mini swings (that are more extreme than the "normal" range of emotions). Starting to accept that my mood can still change at the drop of a hat and that I will never truly know what my mood will be like at any given moment. I was starting to accept that.

But then this depression happened, and it has hung around for 2 weeks, and everything that I was starting to accept goes out the window.

So I'm frustrated. I'm reminding myself daily that this is part of bipolar disorder, that I'm still way better than I have been, and that eventually it will pass. I'm doing all of the correct, positive things that I should be doing and that I've learned how to do in therapy. I'm trying to dig myself out of this hole. And I will. I know I will. Or at least I keep telling myself that.

Ugh. Stupid depressive feels.

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.

Stupid Med Changes

First let me remind you about my med changes. Almost 2 weeks ago I saw my psychiatrist. My depression was coming back and I wanted to get on the ball and take action early. So I made an appointment and we talked about what as going on. He agreed we needed to be a little more aggressive and not wait for it to get worse. He raised my Lamictal does from 200mg daily to 250mg daily and started me back on Wellbutrin.

The other thing I had talked with him about was stopping the Geodon due to sexual side effects. He said he thought it was safe to do so. After my first decrease from 80mg to 40mg I had rebound hypomania the following day (read about it here).

This past Thursday (the 20th) was my first night not taking the Geodon. I slept for 1 hour. Maybe. Could have been less. Friday was weird. I was depressed and felt . . . off. Even mucking stalls and being around the horses didn't help. But I minimized it and told myself that that was Friday and it was probably due to lack of sleep and that Saturday might be different. Day to day.

Saturday came and I was at work. It was not a good day. I spent much of my time hiding in the report room curled in a ball in the corner because I was depressed and couldn't face people. I'm exhausted, I told myself (I had slept 6 hours the night before). Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be better.

Then Sunday came and again I was at work. I started the day almost a little hypomanic. I had tons of energy, I was joking around, I was inappropriate, I was talking fast. I calmed a little after report and assessed my patients. Around 9am I started to feel funny. I started to feel down. At 9:30 it hit me - severe depression. I was charting. I closed out my chart and just barely made it to the bathroom before I started balling. I was in there, crying uncontrollably, for 30 minutes. I felt horrible and alone and empty and I wanted to die. But I composed myself, walked out and walked behind the front desk. I meant to ask the CNA there if I looked okay when one of my managers saw me. Her eyes got wide and she asked if I was okay. I shook my head no and started crying again. She rushed over and hugged me and asked what was wrong.

"I just had a med change and I think it's made me depressed and I want to get a scalpel because I kinda want to die." I hadn't intended to admit my suicidal thoughts (though I'm glad I did).

She looked at me and told me that I couldn't hurt myself because there were too many people who cared for me. She asked if I needed to go to the hospital. I told her probably, I was feeling bad enough to but that I didn't want to go back - it's only been 3 months since my last hospitalization. We talked and agreed that I could go home to be with my hubby and son with the understanding that if I didn't improve I'd admit myself.

So home I went and I did everything I could to lift my spirits - including a nap and a hot bubble bath (while listening to music that makes me happy). I emailed Dr. C and he agreed that this was due to me stopping the Geodon and he said I obviously need it and to start back up at 40mg. I emailed my therapist and he told me if I needed to see him this week (my next appointment is the 1st) that he would make time for me.

Today I'm mildly depressed and have no motivation for anything (except maybe staring at the wall). I was a little better this morning than I am now, but I'll manage. I'm hoping that with being back on the Geodon my mood will improve quickly.

I'm tired of setbacks like this. I just want a med combo that works and that I don't have to keep tweaking. Hopefully this current one of lithium, Lamictal, Wellbutrin and Geodon will work (I also hate being on 4 meds for this stupid disease).

Oh well. As long as I can reach - and maintain - stability, that's all that matters.

Acceptance

I couldn't sleep last night. My mind was racing, filled with anything and everything. It kept coming back to work or what I was going to tell Dr. C next week. Round and round it went so that even when I did sleep, my mind was racing in my dreams.

It was exhausting.

An one point, around 1am, I had almost a mini epiphany. I even got out of bed to jot it down in my journal so I wouldn't forget the thought.

And here it is:

I have yet to accept that I have bipolar disorder. I know I have it, don't get me wrong, but I haven't truly accepted that fact yet. All I'm doing is trying to control an uncontrollable illness. To make neat and orderly what must stay in chaos. To make black and white what is truly every shade of grey known to man.

I haven't accepted this.

Here's the thing - in order to live with bipolar disorder one must practice flexibility and forgiveness. Forgiveness of one's self. I suck at this. I'm flexible with most everything except bipolar disorder. In my mind, I have to do everything perfectly - including controlling the symptoms. I don't forgive myself when things aren't "perfect". If I have a bad day, I've failed. If I've had a string of bad days and I have a good one - I've failed. How does that even make sense??

My view is this: I'm either stable or sick, good or bad, up or down. There is no in-between. So when my mood fluctuates, when it changes or cycles (which moods do), it doesn't fit into my narrow view of what things "should" be. If I'm sick, I should just be sick and not have stable days in-between. If I'm stable, I should just be stable and not have bad days in-between.

This is a highly inaccurate view of bipolar disorder (and of my whole damn world).

Because you know what? Moods vary. Moods change. They fluctuate day to day. I'm going to have a string of really bad days followed by some good ones - and that's okay. I'm going to be stable for awhile and then go manic for a day or two - and that's okay. It's going to happen - that's the nature of bipolar disorder.  I'll never stop it from happening - my mood episodes will come whether I want them to or not, and I can't change, predict, or control that.

So I need to accept that. I need to accept that I have bipolar disorder and that I don't have to be perfect. That this will never be perfect. That my moods may change drastically in the course of a day and I might as well just enjoy the ride.

The sooner I accept this, the sooner I can be flexible and forgive myself, the sooner I can heal and move on.

And I don't have to be perfect at this, either.

Fuck you, self

I'm sitting here very restless but very apathetic. There is a torrent of thoughts racing through my mind, none of them good. I hate this feeling. This feeling of needing to do something, anything, but having no idea what to do. But of also not caring enough to even try. Of knowing that everything you do is pointless so there's no sense in doing anything.

I have still been down. I have still felt empty and lost and confused. I have still been horribly withdrawn and, early this morning, I was unaware of this fact. I felt somewhat okay this morning. Sure, maybe I was a little down. Maybe I was feeling a little empty, even a little irritated, but I was okay, right?

Until my best friend, L, came over. Then, I realized, just how not okay I was. I was acutely aware of how down I was feeling. I was acutely aware of how withdrawn I still am (she even made mention of it). Truth be told, I didn't want to talk, I didn't want her company, I didn't want anything except to disappear.

But I couldn't disappear. I couldn't even go on a drive and smoke. See, my son is home sick from school. Can't really take him around with me on a self destructive spree.

So I painted/drew with him and then read while he played games on his kindle.

And I had bad thoughts.

I thought about taking pills. I needed to escape what I was feeling and taking pills seemed like a viable option. But everything I have will sedate me. Which is fine if it only did that for a few hours but the last time I tried it I was in and out of consciousness for a day and a half. I need uppers. I have no uppers. I need percocet so I can feel high. I have no percocet.

So then I thought about alcohol. But the problem with that is drinking with my meds. I can't even take a fucking Benadryl with my meds without being so knocked out the next morning that I can't function. I have therapy in the morning! I have to be functional!

I thought about stopping all of my meds. So that I can maybe be manic. Get the high of mania - the euphoria, energy, on top of the world feeling coupled with invincibility. But that would prove highly destructive.

I'm considering anorexia. I'm not even fucking joking. A slow form of self harm that, hey - will maybe make me look good! Weight loss isn't all bad!

I want to destroy things but I don't have the energy. I want to punch but in order to be satisfied I need to hurt myself.

And I think about all of these things, these self destructive things, and I can't help but wonder if this is all just me trying to self sabotage. I'm trying to make my situation worse. Bring about crisis. Because we all know that I don't seem to function without some form of motherfucking crisis.

I know this. And I'm doing everything to try and counter this thinking. It's not healthy. I'm not healthy. But no matter how hard I try and counter, it doesn't change the fact that the feelings are there. That the thoughts are there. They're FUCKING THERE and nothing I do seems to work!

What the hell am I supposed to do? I see what I'm doing. I know what I'm doing. It's there, right in front of me. And still it happens. And I try, and right now I seem to be failing. I'm too much for myself. I can't counter my own sick mind and I'm going to make things worse.

What. The fuck. Do I do?

Let's talk about things

This post will be . . . difficult I think. And personal. Because I don't see my therapist again until next week and I need to get shit out. Air out some bones.

Friday through Monday (starting last week) were horrible days for me. I was irritable. I was depressed. I felt awful. I had feelings of despair and hopelessness. I broke down crying on Sunday. It felt like the old me. The depressed me.

The familiar me.

I did what I could to brush off the feelings. I minimized them. I ignored them. I tried to stay in the moment. I took it day by day, hoping the next day would be better. I didn't catastrophize, I didn't ruminate, I stopped negative thoughts and replaced them with positive ones.

And it worked somewhat.

On Sunday after crying I was able to joke a little - I could move past the despair. On Monday it was difficult. I was at work and I was down and withdrawn and irritable. I hid a lot. I avoided people (which didn't go unnoticed). But I got through the day despite how tired and drained I was.

Yesterday I was at the riding center most of the day. I mucked stalls in the morning which lifted my spirits. Now, I was withdrawn there - I usually talk with the other people there but yesterday I pretty much kept to myself. Interacting proved difficult. I was horribly drained from the previous four days, but I went back in the afternoon for the classes - which was probably a mistake - it took everything out of me.

But I pressed on and last night I was more light hearted and able to joke a bit.

So I'm taking things day by day. I have to - I have no choice. Day by day I have to be acutely aware of my feelings. Day by day I have to check in with myself to make sure I'm not swinging outside the realm of normalcy. And day by day this is exhausting.

It has to be done though. Because here's my problem:

I think I may be starting another mood episode. Possibly caused by the stress of being back at work. And that's not the only problem.

I like to self sabotage. We all know this, right? We all know that I have issues with being "normal", with being "okay". We all know that I'm used to being depressed. I don't know how to not be depressed.

And this is a HUGE problem. See, part of me is excited at the prospect of another mood episode, of going into a state of depression again. Part of me welcomes tis whole heartedly. It's like visiting a friend you haven't seen in a long time - where you pick up as if no time has past. It's like being home. It's familiar and comfortable and part of me longs to be there again.

I hate admitting this. I hate this part of me.

And I'm stamping it out. Or trying to. Which is harder than you think. I'm already dealing with looming depression (it truly is there) and to add to this . . . it's hard. It takes it out of me. I'm already drained and now I'm exhausting myself by fighting with myself.

Jealous?

This is what I'll be discussing in therapy next week. It troubles me and I want it to stop.

I want to stop having to check myself all the time. However, I think with this illness, that will never happen. Maybe it will lesson over time, but I think it will always be necessary.

And I say boo to that.

WTF, self?

No, seriously, what the fuck?

The past week has been pretty damn rough on me. Hell, the last few weeks. I'm steadily going down hill. Slowly, but steadily. It started with becoming more drained and overwhelmed - first at work, and then in general. Then I started to feel more down. Not depressed - just down.

And now? The past 4 days? Depression. Not too deep, not too bad, but it's there. That dirty motherfucker is there.

Stupid fucking Ted.

Friday at work was bad. I didn't know how I was going to make it through. Saturday was worse. The depression was more pressing. Sunday? Well, Sunday started off better but I slid, and I cried, and I felt despair and hopeless and scared.

And today. I'm at work right now. I'm writing because I need to. My mood today has been better than the last 3 - I feel more down today than depressed (thank God for small favors). But everything is overwhelming me and I can't bear to be around people. I've always been okay with patients but not today. Today interacting with patients is proving difficult.

I've been hiding from people. Coworkers. I just can't do it. A 2 minute conversation leaves me drained and down. I don't even want to talk with my best friend. I'm so drained that I almost don't want to go work with the horses tomorrow (now you know it's bad).

And here's the frustrating thing: I'm doing things right. I'm actually not catastrophizing this. I'm actually not ruminating on this. I talked with my best friend about it and I'm writing this. I talked with my hubby the past couple of days and that's it. I'm curbing negative self talk and countering it with positive. I'm not letting myself do all of the things I used to do in the past.

I'm doing everything right.

I don't want to jump to conclusions. I don't want to think that I'm starting another mood episode. Because I can't. I've decided to give this a week or two, see if it clears up. If not, then I'll make an appointment with Dr. C and I guess go on an antidepressant.

It's just that I hate this so much and I don't know what I should do. I need to vent but I can't ruminate or beat myself up over this. So I'll write this and I'll move on. I'm going to try and ignore this, downplay it. Not make much out of it. Maybe that will help.

Maybe I'm in denial.

At any rate, fuck you, Ted.  

Why am I so tired?

Seriously? My friend stopped by to hang out and chat for a little while and it was exhausting. I love hanging out with her. I love talking with her. She's my best friend. But after about 45 minutes I was ready for her to go. Not because I didn't want her company - but because I was getting exhausted. I felt overwhelmed just talking with her.

What. The actual. Fuck.

This is stupid. It's so damn stupid. Talking to a friend should not be exhausting.

But it was.

I really hate me right now.

Bleh

I have this need to write, but at the same time I feel very apathetic. I just don't care.

I told J today that I don't have depression, I don't feel depressed, I'm not down. And for the most part, that's true. I don't feel depressed. And I'm not depressed.

But right now I am most definitely down. I've been down most of the day. Not depressed - just down. And my irritability keeps shooting through the roof. Everything sets me off. Everything. I nearly lodged my sewing bobbin in the wall yesterday because it wouldn't feed right. I threw it at the wall and then broke down sobbing.

I'm overwhelmed by everything. Everything. Even small things. J and I were supposed to spend the day with our friends. Well, their kiddos are sick so we couldn't go. I felt like I couldn't cope with life. I couldn't find a matching sock in the laundry and my world about fell apart.

This is not okay. This is not normal. I know I'm still in a mixed episode - I get that. I do. I know it's going to take time for my Geodon to get to therapeutic levels. I get that. I do.

But can't I get a break?

I mean yeah, I'm not depressed. Which is fucking awesome, thank you. But this constant irritability and agitation, racing thoughts. I get distracted easily. It's hard for me to carry on a conversation sometimes. And being overwhelmed by everything. It's frustrating. Fuck it, let's be honest - this shit is infuriating.

I'm tired of having symptoms that won't go the fuck away. I'm tired of snapping at my husband and my son. Especially my son. I have no tolerance for him. And it pains me so much to say that. You have no idea. Actually writing that out? Almost in tears (I'm not in tears only because I'm stifling them).

So yeah. Can't I get a fucking break??

In other news, I painted a horse today. So that's good. I was going to post the picture but blogger is fucking up the quality. So check it out here if you'd like to see it.

That's all I guess. Cheers, y'all.

Hey . . . It's Wednesday

Well look at that. It's Wednesday. And tomorrow is Thanksgiving! OMG!

I'm excited for pie.

This is the most accurate pie chart ever. Because pie. PIE.

Also? I'm still cycling. It's mild . . . but it's there. Hyperirritability. Racing thoughts at times. Times where I'm on the verge of tears for no reason. It's all very frustrating. I'm getting there, I know that. But I want to be there now. 

I'm trying to accept that this is how it may be. For awhile. And I hate it. 

But, pie motherfuckers.  

Hospital Time

My blog won't be updated for about a week as I'm going to the hospital this morning. I'm in a mixed episode that is getting worse and I don't feel that I am stable. My pdoc gave me an antipsychotic yesterday that I took once, and won't take again. I felt drugged and foggy and groggy. But it was to knock down the mania and if I won't take it, well . . .

I cycled so quickly yesterday it was scary. I'll write more on that later but it's the reason I decided to go to the hospital. As much as I DO NOT want to go, I need to be safe while I get through this. I'm going from wanting to die to almost full blown mania and then back again.

I'll write when I get back. Have a good week.

I'll see you on the flipside* . . .



. . . . *Boondock Saints ref. Just so you know.

Tuesday morning

It's Tuesday morning. In case you couldn't figure that out on your own. You're welcome.

It's about 0920 right now and I have therapy in an hour. I both need therapy today but I'm also anxious about it. My mind is racing a bit at the moment and I feel shaky and fidgety. I woke up feeling okay. Not great, not bad . . . just okay. Which is fine. Then I started to feel a little down. Then I almost burst into tears for no good reason.

As I type this, I feel like I could burst into tear right now. For no reason. I'm slightly down. Not depressed, no feelings of despair or hopelessness. Just a little down. But I feel like I could cry and my mind is going 500 directions at once. I can't even quite figure out what to write or how to word it and thank GOD for spell check.

I'm nervous. My last post was written on Sunday morning. When I was a little hypo but otherwise okay. Sunday afternoon and evening were a different story. We went and saw Thor 2 (which gave me Loki feels and is a good movie, btw) and then went grocery shopping. Within minutes of leaving the theater, I crashed. Hard.

Scary hard.

I tried not to show it and I failed. Miserably. J told me to stop dwelling on whatever it was I was dwelling on. He was trying to be helpful. It only made me bitchier. Because I wasn't dwelling on anything. I literally had no discernible thought in my head. Nothing. Only feeling. And what I was feeling was horrible. Despair, hopelessness, worthlessness, pain, emptiness, hate, profound sadness, and the thought that I really shouldn't go on. That I couldn't do this again. I wanted to not exist.

And that terrified me. So much so I was contemplating admitting myself to the hospital.

But I don't want to do that. I really don't. So I tried to be better. I talked, I tried engaging, I did everything I could to fake it to bring myself up. J started assaulting me (in a good way, y'all. Playfully pushing me, holding me, acting like a loon). My mood only lifted slightly.

I painted when we got home while J worked on the yard. Still yucky. Had dinner. Still yucky. Ever so slightly better, but still yucky.

And then *poof*, I felt okay. *Poof*.  The fog lifted and I was okay. And I joked a little. And I laid on the couch with J to watch the Bronco game. And I was relieved and exhausted. I couldn't make it through the whole game because I was so emotionally exhausted.

Of course, I couldn't sleep either. Tried reading a bit. Didn't help. So I laid in bed with my racing thoughts focused on nothing.

Well, it's 0950 now. Thirty minutes to right just a tiny bit because my brain is so scattered. Off to the bathroom, and then therapy.

Sunday

I'm drained right now. Utterly, emotionally drained. Yesterday was exceedingly hard mood wise. I was up and down and everywhere in between. And by "up, down and in between" I mean I was hypo for about an hour, numb for a few, depressed and crying, followed by more numbness, followed by depressed and crying. And angry and irritable the whole time.

Sounds fun, yeah?

So here's the thing - I'm pretty sure I'm rapid cycling. I'm pretty sure I have a bipolar chemical swing going on here. That this is a bipolar issue. Not a character issue. Not a "me" issue. I think my chemistry is a little outta whack and I'm along for the ride.

Which is never a fun ride people - this is the roller coaster from hell operated by the love child of Richard Simmons and the devil.

I mean look at that. Fuuuuuuuuuck. That's just not fair.

But I digress.

I tried to talk with J last night about this. I've been trying to hide my swings from him, from everyone because I'm so worried and convinced that everyone is going to think that I'm doing this to myself. That I'm self-sabotaging again. I'm all but paranoid about this. 

Let's be honest: I'm so paranoid about this that I've become hypervigilant of everything I'm feeling or thinking. However, even though I'm hypervigilant, I think I've been doing well at tempering that with letting go and not catastrophizing. Which is hard for me. Because I'm an idiot. 

So I've been writing in my mood journal, making note of my mood shifts, trying to find a theme or pattern or trigger. I have been thinking about this. Quite a bit. It's hard not to when your mind is constantly racing, constantly interjecting thoughts (it's gone back to the you're-a-failure-because-you're-not-better-and-everyone-would-be-happier-without-your-crazy-ass-around type of thoughts. The not good thoughts). It's hard not to when you're hypomanic and you have to be aware of where you are and what you're feeling and thinking so that you don't completely act out or act inappropriately or say inappropriate things. I mean, I will literally puke up some obscene line of nonsense and not even realize what I've said until I get nasty looks.

So I have to be aware. I have to think about my moods. 

But I don't have to overanalyze - one of my favorite pastimes. One that I've mastered expertly. A flawed coping mechanism that I rely way too heavily on. I've spent my entire life coddling this ability and fuck you I'm going to use it!

I shouldn't though.

J pointed out the whole "overanalyzing" thing to me. I got defensive and bitchy. I think all I am lately is defensive and bitchy and snippy and miserable to be around (oops - negative thinking there - another flawed coping mechanism. I seem to be full of those!). But I started thinking . . . maybe I am overanalyzing myself right now. I mean, I'm riding these emotional ups and downs, trying to stay in the moment, not catastrophize, and move on. And, I am doing that. But maybe not as well as I think I am. 

Maybe I'm overanalyzing a little.

Something else - the last couple of days where I've had some really bad lows (most notably yesterday), I find it difficult to bring myself back up. It really is easier for me to stay there because I know how to do that. I know how to feel like shit. I often think I deserve to feel that way.

Which I don't.

But it's easier to stay down than spend a ton of energy to pull myself back up again. So I've got that going against me. I'm starting to overanalyze and I'm finding it easier to completely give in to my lows. Not a great combo. But something I can change.

Let's do a quick recap: I'm rapid cycling. I'm having true bipolar controlled mood swings. I'm not doing as well as I could managing them thanks to flawed coping mechanisms. But I can change those coping mechanisms.

Which leads us to my next problem. How do I change those coping mechanisms? I've started that process. Working through ACOA and codependency. Reading the books, answering the questions, discussing with M. And that's awesome, right?

Right?

It is, if that wasn't the probable trigger of this current rapid cycling episode.

Wait, what?

Talking about ACOA and my alcoholic mom and codependency is VERY difficult. It's VERY emotionally taxing. It's distressing. So much so I've had some anxiety coupled with it. So much so I've had some nightmares about it. So much so that I want to blaze through everything and not even touch it at the same time. 

Blaze through it?

Yes. A handy nugget of info my best friend L gave to me last night (her and J are just full of these goddamned nuggets of wisdom that I should be figuring out on my own and I both hate them and love them for that). 

I'm diving headfirst, blindly, into a sea of nasty emotionally charged shit. I'm not even thinking - I'm just doing. I need to work through this so let's fucking do this! Baby steps need not apply. And, as L pointed out, I've built this shit up over the last 35 years, so how the hell am I going to work through it in a few weeks??

She also pointed out that I'm an idiot. A fact we already know, L. Bring something new to the table!

Recap time again:

1. I have bipolar disorder. Having bipolar disorder makes it difficult to regulate moods. When you're bipolar it's more difficult to cope with everyday issues. This makes it even more difficult to cope with anything that goes above and beyond this. Both bad and good.

2. I dove in head first trying to work through the pain and grief and anger and rage that took me a lifetime to acquire. I dove in expecting to blast through this in a matter of a few therapy sessions and I got in over my head. Now I'm drowning in the muck.

3. This (most likely) triggered my current rapid cycling episode. 

So now I'm rapid cycling. I'm bipolar and by nature have a difficult time coping with things. I'm trapped in the thick sludge that is my childhood and, even though I'm drowning, I'm still insisting that I can go deeper, faster. 

Is it any wonder my moods are everywhere? Is it any wonder that I'm having issues coping? Is it any wonder that I'm bitchy and snippy and sad and unstable? I'm denying everything above because it's easier to. It's more convenient to. I'm at that ledge where I can exercise all of my negative coping mechanisms, ignore logic, buck any help offered, and plummet. 

Or, I can take a step back, slow down, be kind to myself. I can allow myself to take breaks. I can take some pressure off of myself. I can take what I've learned so far and actually use it. I can listen to, and use J and L's advice without getting defensive and angry - despite what my sick brain thinks, they're actually not out to get me. 

That's the hard part though. Going against 35 years of flawed coping and thinking. And doing that while doing battle with my sick brain. 

But I can. I have people just as, or more, stubborn than me on my side.

Thursday

So it's Thursday. And that's not terribly exciting in and of itself. But am on call, which is nice. I really didn't want to work today - especially after how the last 3 days have gone.

Yesterday I was rapid cycling again. I spent all morning near tears. I cried in the parking lot at work, teared up in the elevator, and was close all morning. Around 3 I started to level off. Around 5 I was hypo manic. By the time I got home I had crashed.

It's starting to become a pattern.

Which is why I'm glad I'm on call. I have 5 days off after today, so this will make 6 days off! (Yay! I can do math!) I need this time off. Hopefully it will help. The whole "rapid cycling" thing just isn't working for me.

Had a breakdown today

Yesterday at work was a roller coaster. All morning I was down, near tears over everything. I tried to scan something to pharmacy - it wouldn't go through. My eyes welled up, my lip quivered, I had to go hide. I didn't cry - not all day, not once. But I needed to.

Around 3pm, hello hypo mania!!! Uncontrolled, unrelenting hypo mania. It was bad. I was loud, I was inappropriate, I had to be the center of attention. Now, keep in mind that I'm an RN. On the L&D unit. Delivering babies. And I was anything but professional. One of the physicians, whom, luckily, I can really joke with, got a kick out of my behavior. He escalated me. There was a paramedic student. I inquired as to whether or not he watched midget porn.

Midget porn, people. Who does that?? Me, apparently.

So I went from depressed and in tears to oh-my-god-look-at-me-I'm-amazing-and-there's-a-butterfly-and-oh-yeah-porn-and-shit. Not great when entering patient's rooms to catch a baby.

But I made it through and I laughed about how crazy I was. And then today happened. This morning happened. I had to go to a leadership class called LEAP - because I'm a charge nurse and my manager thinks I make a "good leader" (who's the crazy one now!!). The class is at our main hospital downtown. Driving there . . . the depression was starting to creep in. I cranked up the music and sang along and reminded myself that I got to play with horses and disabled kids this afternoon (I volunteer at a therapeutic riding center).

But then I parked. And I lost it. I sobbed uncontrollably. The "ugly cry". The one where you get snot all over the bloody place and your mascara runs making you look like a rabid raccoon. Yeah. That one. And it was seemingly for no reason. It came out of nowhere - la la la, this song is cool - NO! SCREW YOU! LET'S CRY!! It was full of pain and despair and darkness and hopelessness.

And I don't know why.

I've been wondering if I'm starting to rapid cycle. I don't know. I have no idea. I don't want to tell my hubby or friends because I don't want them to think I'm self-sabotaging. That I'm perpetuating something that's not there. Yes, I've done that in the past. I've admitted it. I've been working on stopping that cycle and adopting better coping mechanisms. And I've been succeeding in doing that. I was getting better.

And then this. And I'm trying not to catastrophize this. Because yes, I've been feeling more and more out of sorts the last few weeks. And yes, yesterday and today were exceedingly bad mood wise, but that doesn't mean tomorrow will be that way too.

Right?

Fuck you Clancy

(I named my brain Clancy, for those of you who don't know)

So my brain is stupid. Not that this is really a surprise, but it's getting damn annoying. I'm feeling better, and yesterday I felt pretty damn good. And then . . .

My brain is an asshole. Clancy, you're an asshole. 

I'm working through all of this ACOA and codependency shit at the moment, which fucking sucks - let's be honest. It's difficult, and even though I have ups and downs with it, for the most part I've been okay. I'm learning more about myself, my flawed coping mechanisms, and how I can change all of this. I've been starting to be gentler with myself (trying, at the very least), and am trying to forgive myself. 

And then BAM! Major bipolar mood swing. Out of nowhere. For no reason. Just sadness and hopelessness and depressive thoughts flooding me. It literally happened in seconds. I was fine, and then I was not. 

This happened last night and has continued into today. I feel like crying and screaming, only I can't. I'm trying not to let it bring me down. I went to the gym, cleaned the bathrooms, did the dishes, swept, vacuumed, did laundry. I'm keeping busy. I'm writing. I'm not curling up into a ball of misery which is what I want to do. So that's a plus.

And I'm saying this is a bipolar swing because of the sudden randomness of its onslaught. If it was going to be feeling like shit because of, say, working through some ACOA stuff, it comes on gradually. Not this. Clancy brought this shit on fast. And I really hate that this stuff still happens. That it will always happen. And that I have to be constantly vigilant for it. That while this isn't necessarily the start of a mood episode, it's still difficult and annoying and tiresome to have to deal with. And that, at any time, my brain might decide to swing me into depression or mania, no matter how stable I think I am, and no matter how much I try to stop it.

So Clancy? You, sir, are an asshole.

Getting real tired of your shit, brain.

I've been overall very melancholy lately. And I'm not gonna lie - I'm getting sick of it. I can't seem to shake it. Constantly, it's there. Even if I have a good moment, it's there to welcome me back with open arms.

I think I'm stable. I feel stable. I'm not really rapid cycling. I have ups and downs, and they're a little more extreme than "normal" mood fluctuations, but I feel stable.

But it's this overall melancholy sadness that never seems to leave. I'm trying to figure out what it is. Is it just feeling a little down? Maybe a result of still getting stable, coupled with icky therapy sessions and yucky introspective learning? Is it that this is a "normal" state and I'm so used to being in an extreme mood state that this just doesn't work and I don't know how to cope? Both? Something else?

Thing is, I almost feel like I can't cope with this. I'm actually doing well at being "in the moment", at being present. So that, at times, I'm enjoying myself. And if I have a time where I need to cry, I cry. And I do this, and I stay in the moment and experience it, and I move on. And what I move on to is to this non-feeling, melancholy trance where I barely feel there. Where I'm distracted and disengaged and conversation is forced.

I stay like that until another period of heightened emotion. And that's just it - it has to be heightened. And even then, at least to the positive, it still seems forced. There's genuine emotion there, there is, but I have to force it a little. It feels faked. It feels dulled down.

Maybe this is what other people feel? How they experience things? I have no idea. And if so, what the fuck?

If I look back over the last 2 weeks, since my last therapy session, I would say that it was alright. It was okay. There was nothing too major either way. I would also say that I wasn't happy. That I made it through another 2 weeks. That I have little moments here and there that I enjoyed and was present for and even laughed through. But that overall? I wasn't happy.

When I look back over the last 2 weeks, the last 4 weeks, the last 8 weeks . . . that's what I see - me not really happy. Me existing, enjoying snippets here and there. Feeling worse here and there. But numb. Numb and there and existing. Nothing sways me that much. Nothing excites me that much. I say it does, but it doesn't. I'm still putting up that facade of being all better.

And I am better. I'm stable. I'm not suicidal and out of control. That's better. But I'm not living either. Not like I think I should be. Not with my feelings and senses stunted. Not with being in this melancholy trance. Not with my creativity all but missing.

It's down to this - I don't like how I feel. I'm living moment to moment, day to day. I'm not catastrophizing. I'm, surprisingly, not thinking too much in the future mood wise.  And this is what I get - melancholy and numb and not happy.

I don't like who I am, who I've become. And I'm not sure I can change that.

And that saddens me.

Bleh

I'm feeling bleh. Blah. Meh. Down. Melancholy. Withdrawn. And annoyed by all of this. It's Halloween and I should be excited. Hopefully that will change as nightfall comes and our display becomes more awesome.

I'll be posting pics, don't worry. Until then, Happy Halloween!