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.

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.