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?

Just a quickie

My mood has been everywhere craptastic since Tuesday night. Like, "fuck is this a relapse because I can't even cope" craptastic. And it's shitty and annoying and I'm done with it.

I'm writing in my mood diary. I'm ignoring it. I'm faking it. I'm focusing on positives. I'm forcing myself to do things and be social and not a withdrawn hermit.

I'm overwhelmed.

And since I don't know what else to do, I'm just gonna leave this here:

Bitch, I'm fabulous. Deal with it.

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!

Odd . . .

I feel very strange today. My mood is kinda . . . down. But not really. It is at times, other times fine, other times just . . . off. I'm not quite sure.

I had a profound wave of sadness wash over me while I was taking my meds this morning. I have no idea why. It passed relatively quickly and I tried not to overanalyze it (one of my favorite things to do). But it made no sense to me.

Later, I started thinking about a couple of friends who are having marital problems (possibly serious). And I got to thinking about my marriage and how lucky I am to have the hubby I do.

See, I'm kind of a terrible wife. I have been the main stressor in my family over the last 2 years. I have been needy, time consuming, worrisome, explosive, angry, unpredictable, ungrateful, and a host of other equally not good adjectives. Yes, I've been sick with the worst mood episode of my life, but that doesn't excuse the above mentioned adjectives (at least in my mind. Because I'm ACOA and need to be perfect. Even though I'm clearly not).

I've spent so much time depressed and angry and withdrawn, barely participating in life. I've been self-absorbed and selfish, constantly putting myself before my family (the opposite of what I did growing up). I've been stand-offish and unloveable.

I don't know how my husband hasn't left me. I literally don't comprehend it. He says because he loves me and that's what people do. But let's be honest - I've been crap. I think anyone else would have left. But he's patient, loving, and kind. He's there to listen to me vent, to hold me when I cry, to leave me when I need space. He offers advice even when I don't want to hear it and encouragement when I think I can't go on. He puts up with my anger and outbursts and makes me laugh instead. He does all this without protest.

He is my hero, and I hope he knows that.

Therapy and ACOA

Today was the therapy day that I was (and wasn't) looking forward to. If you remember from my last post, I had read Codependent No More and had all these horrible feels and today I was going to start talking about them. Well, talk I did.

I started by reading M my last journal entry (which he found amusing, laughed, and joked that maybe he should be worried and leave). He reminded me that I didn't need to dive in balls to the wall with this. No, definitely not. But I need to start. And today was as good a day as any (especially with all the icky feels I've had from reading that book).

Funny thing is, I didn't really know where to start. I pointed out my anger and frustration. That I don't want to have to sort through this. It's too much and it's not fair and I want to be done with it!

See, I'm still very much that scared little girl, trapped in the darkness of my own mind, haunted by my memories and feelings. They chase me, like the wolf after his prey. I'm cornered now, back against the wall, and all I can do is fight for my life.

And this is a fight. A struggle within myself, to overcome myself. To pull this little girl out of the darkness, into the light, and show her that everything is okay. We've survived, thrived even. She needs comfort. She needs protection. She needs to be able to own herself, gain confidence, and start repairing the damage.

Here's where we start:

My mom is an alcoholic. She's been one for as long as I can remember. Life with an alcoholic is unpredictable, chaotic, and sometimes downright terrifying. There is fear, mixed messages, confusion, anger, guilt, shame, hopelessness, powerlessness. All of this takes its toll. It wears you down.

I was the caretaker. When my mom was drunk, I made sure she was in bed. I made sure my brother got to bed. That we were all fed, that alarms were set. I felt responsible for them, my brother and mom. I was overprotective of my brother - if anything "bad" happened to him it would devastate me (though I hid these feelings because they were feelings that would start a screaming match between my mom and I). I put them before myself - always. Even though I desperately didn't want to.

I grew increasingly withdrawn at home and in life in general. My true feelings caused problems. I learned quickly to bottle them up. I slept all the time - I claimed I had mono to explain that away. I thought about suicide - often. I wished I could get away. I didn't have friends. I felt different from everyone. What if they found out my mom was an alcoholic? The shame and guilt kept me mute.

 I hated my life. I hated everything about it. I hated my mom. I hated that my dad couldn't save me. I hated that nobody saw how much pain I was in, how close I was to killing myself. I hated myself.

Maybe if I worked hard, maybe if I was the perfect daughter, did well in school, got a job, maybe then the drinking would stop. That didn't work. Maybe I wasn't perfect enough. Despite my good grades and working nearly full time starting at age 16, the drinking didn't stop. I sought approval. I sought affirmation that I was good. That I did good. If I was good, she'd have to stop. Right?

Wrong. No matter what I tried, the drinking didn't stop. I wasn't good enough. She even said it herself. My brother and I were a burden and maybe one day she just wouldn't come home. I was a failure. I wasn't good enough.

There were screaming matches about her drinking. Constantly. My brother and I would find and empty her bottles of vodka. We'd confront her lies. There were so many lies you never knew what to believe. Broken promises of getting sober. We learned not to trust.

So often, after a screaming match, mom would say she'd only have a drink on the weekend. We said okay. Then it became a few. We said okay. Then it was one a night. We relented. Then it was however many she wanted. We gave up. She'd say she wouldn't drink if there were people over. We said okay. Then it was drinking no matter who was over. We gave up. We learned that boundaries didn't matter - they got trampled on anyway.

She was embarrassing when she was drunk. She acted erratically, was unpredictable, and said things that made you want to curl into a ball and hide away. She did this in front of company, family, my brother's friends (I didn't have friends). I felt responsible for her actions - as if I should be able to control them. I felt they reflected badly on me. I felt ashamed of her and guilty I couldn't control her actions.

Now, let's look at this (very) brief synopsis and see what I've learned, what I've picked up. Shame, guilt. Despite trying to do everything right and be perfect, I'm a failure. I don't trust, don't have boundaries, and don't know what to believe. My feelings are bad and should be kept to myself. I feel responsible for other's actions. I put everyone ahead of myself, often to my detriment. Pain, confusion, anger, resentment.

All of these traits (and others) have followed me to this day. All of these I struggle with every day. I never realized this until M had me research ACOA and read Codependent No More. So much of my behaviors and thought patterns make sense now. My mom's alcoholism wasn't as bad as it could have been. My childhood wasn't nearly as bad as others had it. But that doesn't mean it affected me any less.

My journey to healing and recovery has started. The road is long, and probably rocky at times, but I have all the gear I need to make the trek. Hopefully I'll find peace along the way. And maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll find that little girl and I can hold her in my arms and tell her everything will be alright.