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.

Holy Shit Y'all

Let me catch you up to speed.

I saw Dr. C on Wednesday about my looming depression. I was thinking that I just need to suck it up and deal with it. He says, no, I don't. I don't need to feel the way I've been feeling.

So we're starting me on Wellbutrin, which I was on before and it was starting to help with the depression in September (then I went all mixed and manic and we had to stop it). We're also increasing the dose of my Lamictal.

I asked him about stopping the Geodon. When I was started on an antipsychotic, he said it was only temporary to get me through the mixed episode. I told him I'd like to try going off of it as I'm pretty sick of not having orgasms. No desire, no arousal, no orgasm. It sucks. He said it was fine, but to drop from 80mg a night to 40mg for a week and then stop it after that.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

So, being given the go ahead to wean off the Geodon, I found myself terrified. Because I don't know how my body will react to this. I may go straight into another mixed or manic episode. It may be worse. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe I'll explode. I don't know.

But there's only one way to find out, right?

Last night was my first night at the decrease dose of 40mg. I didn't sleep well. But I woke up feeling wide awake and energized. And then antsy. And anxious. And impatient. And my mind was racing. And I mean racing. So fucking fast.

I went to go muck stalls and I felt less anxious. But my mind was going and going and would get fixated on a phrase or song lyric and replay it over and over and I couldn't stop it. Or I'd manage to stop it but some other phrase or song lyric would get stuck and I couldn't focus or concentrate and I was flustered and annoyed.

After mucking, exhaustion hit (I worked yesterday and it was stupid fucking busy - so this, with lack of sleep . . .). But I was still anxious and antsy and my mind was still going. I went to the store and the post office and stopped briefly at a friend's house. While I was at L's house I could hardly concentrate on anything she was saying because my mind wouldn't SHUT THE FUCK UP.

And now I'm home and I'm exhausted and I have this really awesome IRRATIONAL RAGE and I'm even pissed off at air. Mother. Fucking. Air. My mind is still racing. I'm typing this so fast trying to keep up with it and I'm making so many typos that I have to go back and fix which just fuels my rage but I can't stop typing fast because I can hardly form a rational thought.

It's song lyrics right now. "Don't assume, that I need your love". After the Disco by Broken Bells. Over and over and over and I love the song but Clancy what the fuck are you kidding me right now???

I'm hoping this is just rebound from lowering the dose and that once my body adjusts I'll be good and this shit will stop. Because if this continues, God help us all. I probably will explode. Which would be a huge horrible mess that hubby will end up having to clean and then he'll resent me forever for it but I'll be dead so I won't really care.

Run on sentences FTW.

Somebody fucking shoot me.

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.

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.  

I'm tired.

It's a bit stupid how tired I am. I worked two days in a row. Wednesday and Thursday.

And I'm exhausted.

Wednesday was slow, not too much going on. I had patients on the floor and did one delivery. Thursday was busier and my coworker and I did 8 deliveries. Both days I was drained and at times it showed. Both days I was alternately okay and withdrawn. Talking to coworkers proved too much to handle at times. I was okay with patients, thank God for small favors.

But two days in a row is apparently too much for me. I used to be able to work two or even three days in a row without any issues whatsoever. But not now. Now it's too much.

This morning I went to the riding center to muck stalls and that was actually a stupid move. It exhausted me further. I was tired this morning, drained and groggy. But I had perked up a little after taking my son to school so I decided fuck it - why not? So I went. And I made it 2 hours, surprisingly. I don't know how I did because I was so tired I thought I'd pass out. I think I made it out of sheer stupid stubbornness.

Mucking stalls is therapeutic for me, which is why I went. But I kinda wish I hadn't. I still haven't recovered. I'm drained and tired and exhausted. But I can't fall asleep to take a nap. Which is dumb.