So I'm probably stable . . .

I truly do believe I'm stable. I've made it through the worst of the recent med changes, made it through the rebound depression, and I'm what you would call "stable". I'm not having any major mood swings. Rather than the swings hitting like a tsunami, they're 4-5 foot waves that lap more gently at the shore.

This should be good, right?

In a word: yes.

But also no.

Why? Because the moods I'm feeling now are very stunted. They're subdued. At times, they're almost not there. And this, for me, is bad. I'm used to feeling the extremes of moods. I'm used to the highs (though relatively rare), the hyper irritability, the deep sorrow and depression. I feel that. It's guttural. It's intense. But now my moods are meh. Blah. Whatever. Flat. Apathetic.

Or anger.

Here's my problem: I'm stable, but I'm not happy. I feel more like I'm on the outside of everything, viewing, but not taking part in life. I'm bobbing right along the surface, able to keep my head above water, but still drowning - albeit slowly.

I'm stable, but I feel no real joy in things. My job, that I love, is an annoyance. It's an inconvenience. Everything about it makes me irritable and resentful. Dealing with patients can make my blood boil. I don't enjoy it anymore.

My hubby and son . . . I try feeling joy, happiness, and love with them and I mostly come up short. I don't want to do anything with my son. I don't enjoy him. Him wanting to play a game with me irritates me and makes me snippy and angry and sad. I would prefer not to interact with him. With my hubby I do a little better. But I'm not really happy around him. I try. I try.

I'm stable, but I'm still depressed. Maybe I'm not at the sobbing-constantly-suicidal-depressed phase, but I'm depressed none the less. It's more mild. It's this black cloud that never fucking leaves. It's always there. Always hovering over me, always making everything more difficult. I'm more withdrawn. I avoid people and conversations. I'm almost constantly irritable. I'm down, melancholy. Whatever you want to call it.

I'm stable, but I'm not really alive. Does that make sense? I'm existing. I'm going through the routine of everyday life. I get up merely to make it to bedtime to escape again. During the day at home all I want to do is sleep to escape how I'm feeling - or, rather, what I'm not feeling.

I don't want to exist. I want to live. I felt how it feels to live while on the Brintellix - but I was taken off of that due to side effects. If I can't live, what's the purpose of being alive? Seriously. I want to wink out of existence.

That's not really an option though. So I'm trudging along, going through those motions, praying for a spark. Trying to keep hope alive while I'd truly like to throw in the towel.

Because this shit is hard. Pretending to be okay is fucking hard. Especially when there's no end in sight. Maybe this is as good as it will get for me. That's depressing in and of itself.

My pdoc is happy with my progress. She thinks the seroquel is working wonders. After all, I'm stable, right? That's the whole point. Stability. Who the fuck cares if I enjoy life . . . as long as I'm stable.

And before you go thinking I'm all doom and gloom and dwelling on everything bad - I'm actually not. I'm doing everything I can to stay in the moment. I'm picking out my errors of thinking and countering them. I'm taking it one day at a time. I'm trying to do things that I used to enjoy (though most of the time I have to force myself). I'm doing my best not to catastrophize. I'm eating healthier again, exercising regularly. Listening to good music, keeping busy, not allowing myself to nap too much.

And yet I mostly feel like crap. I'm still depressed. I'm still not happy. The unrelenting black cloud won't break up for anything. I'm stuck.

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.

Where am I at?

I'm at a weird point in my life right now. After the horrible setback I had last week after stopping and then restarting the geodon, I find myself getting more stable.

So why is that weird? Why is getting stable weird?

Because I'm not used to it.

Let's look at my life: I have been in complete chaos for 2.5 years. I have been either mixed or severely depressed for 2.5 years. But look at the last 5 months - 2 hospitalizations, several med changes, going part time at work, having issues every day at work (with memory, cognition, and getting overwhelmed easily). It has been rough. And that is putting it ridiculously mildly. All I'm used to is crisis and heightened everything. I'm used to feeling like shit. I'm used to thinking that it will never get better.

But now, I'm slowly getting better. Now I'm slowly getting stable.

 And I have no idea how to react or what to do with myself.

I'm confused. I'm unsettled. Truth be told, I don't like this feeling. It is so foreign to me now, so strange, so . . . wrong that I can't quite handle it. All I've wanted was stability and now that it's happening, I'm terrified. See, as I'm slowly getting more stable, I'm slowly losing my identity. Everything that is "me", everything that I'm used to is going away and that's pretty damn scary. Even if it's for the better (which it is). I have to reinvent myself now. I have to figure out who I am when I'm not in crisis or chaos.

I'll be honest - I'm struggling with this. Part of me is fighting this, wanting to go back to the way things were - where everything is familiar and comfortable, no matter how horrible it truly was. I know it will take time - possibly a lot of time - before I'm comfortable with the stable me. I'll get there, eventually. And hopefully I won't muck everything up along the way.