High Expectations

I should probably properly update:  I’m doing better than I was a month ago.  The End.

No, I changed a bunch of meds to try to even myself out.  I asked alot of questions to my psych about what the end goal is for taking all the meds (it seems like I am on the maximum dosages of the maximum variety of psych meds one can take) and how does he decide what I should be on and how am I supposed to feel – just, like, • barely above wanting-to-die or  • something greater or • feeling like getting out of bed and IS there a realistic possibility of me reaching a point where Life doesn’t suck so hard that I could even appreciate a moment of being “Furiously Happy” (to quote Jenny Lawson)?

His response was that those are tough questions to answer and that the meds are there to help regulate your moods.

So I felt a little discouraged by that (okay, alot discouraged) because honestly I was hoping for some all-powerful answer full of other-worldly knowledge that would bring me instant peace and end my suffering once and for all.  (Okay,  so I admit my expectations were a tad over-the-top.)

Still, I left the office with more scripts in my hand and yet another chip added to my shoulder.  This shit just always seems to get worse before it gets better.  And that’s the hardest pill to swallow.  (clee-shay alert)

I guess I was just hoping for a little hope.  Some sign that things will get better.  At least I can say I’m lucky to have a good support system.  That’s more than alot of people can say, and I really am grateful for that.

I gotta wake up soon and start my motherly duties. Damn it – I hate it when I finally get tired at the exact moment it’s time to get up…

My Blind Rage

screaming through a litany of f-word adjectives describing every personplaceorthing who had the audacity to be in existence at the same moment in time as me.

tucked into the corner of a locked room with the lights off and my hands covering my ears because “I just needed to get away for a while.”

muttering quietly, speaking to my own brain, who keeps playing tricks on me and won’t leave me the fuck alone.

out in the middle of some backwoods country road intersection in pitch-black darkness, leaned over and gasping for breath cause I tried to run hard enough to get away from myself and failed.

flinging verbal venom, my words striking the face of whatever poor soul chose to speak to me.

 

What hurts is that none of these versions of me reflect who I truly am.  This is why bipolar disorder hurts so bad.  Because there I am, trapped inside of that hideous monster, unable to control it, trying to escape it, and all the while, no one can hear my cries, my sincere apologies, my deep regrets.

This is why I can so strongly feel that those around me would be better off without me, despite my logical reasoning that this is not so.  It’s because I can see myself acting this way.  I can see myself snapping at those who love me, who are trying to help, who want to care for me.  And yet all I can do is watch as those claws dig into their tender skin, as those monsterous fangs spew poison out of my own mouth.  And all I can do is hope that they survive.

 

Relatively Tolerable

How is life lately?  Relatively tolerable.  That’s where I’m at.

That’s kind of the best I get.  Unless I am full-on manic, in which case:

 

Until it’s not.

 

Crazy Like A Fox

Mania was completely disruptive (in the worst sense of the word) to my life and it took me a good two years to recover.

I never stop feeling embarassed over the actions my body took while being controlled by my manic mind.  And I went deep.  Both times.  I was a raving, mad lunatic.

The way I am now, no one would ever guess that I was hospitalized, that I was ever in that condition, that I didn’t sleep for days, that I ranted and raved and threw things and screamed at others.  That I tried to take off all of my clothes multiple times in public.  That I drove to a strangers house and walked right in the door and started playing with her kids in her living room. Donald Duck

That I have been picked up by the police twice in one night for being “disruptive” in a public place.

That I crawled into bed with another patient at the hospital because I thought they were my mom.  That I danced through the hallways of the psych unit with a towel covering my head and a styrofoam cup in my mouth, quacking and pretending I was a duck.  All. Night. Long.

Here's Johnny

When I run into people on the streets talking to themselves, I see myself in them.  I know they are making sense in their own brain, and that it only appears to be “nonsense” or “crazy” to those around them.  Sometimes when manic I thought that the whole world was crazy, and I was the only sane one.  I felt that deep down, even as I was doing cartwheels in a cemetery and trying to run down the street naked.

The only thing that separates me from the man on the street shouting obscenities is medication.  The fact that my mental illness is treated and his is not.

If you’re recovering from a manic episode and you’re in the throes of depression, just know that you’ll come out of it.  It does get better.  I can’t say the memories of all of it don’t stick with you, but just remind yourself that the time you laid on the floor in a public bathroom and smashed your glasses with your foot repeatedly because you “didn’t want to see anymore,” it wasn’t you.  It was the mania.  And you have to forgive yourself for that.

And, I guess, so do I.

 

Letter for Help

I’m really stressing over these next five days with the kids. Honestly all I want to do is check out. I’m not going to be able to take care of anyone because I’m struggling to even take care of myself right now.

I know I should stop thinking about escaping and should instead think of solutions. I need to prepare lists and things to do with the kids and ideas of how to handle the breakdowns that are inevitably going to happen.

Can you help me to do that? I feel like I should be able to do that myself, especially with all these stupid fucking meds I’m on but I really can’t think outside the box right now (or even inside the box.)

I feel horribly guilty that I can’t get a grip lately. I hate this mental illness so much. I often think if you had known what you were getting into you never would have married me.

I feel like I burden you with worry and stress because of all my fucking non-problem problems.

 

Email written but nevernn

A Moment in Time

Watched Terminator Genysis.  Not really my bag, but whatevs.  The watching of this time-traveling movie coincided with the whole Super Blood-Red Moon Lunar Eclipse event (and just for the record: for anyone who is knowledgeable of the details behind these space happenings, I apologize for probably getting that whole description completely wrong.)

Staring at the moon when the eclipse was starting, I thought I wasn’t going to see much through the thick cloud coverage that had lingered all day and into the night.  But miraculously, the viewing took a turn and a wide expanse of clear skies moved into the skies just at the right moment.

I knew, from the small amount of research I’d done online, that this was a unique set-up in the solar system, and that the next would not occur until 2033.  I took satisfaction in knowing this fact, rationalizing this event as just another in the long history of “unique” astrological events.

I place no meaning behind these events, as many used to from long ago.  Feeling secure and smug in my practical understanding of what exactly was aligned to make this all possible, I casually watched as the moon hung in the shadow of the earth.

But then something blinked in my head and suddenly i found myself caught between the different hemispheres of my brain.  I was suddenly consumed with all of these wandering thoughts and snapshots of memories colliding in my mind.  I thought of the truths I believed in, and also how little i know or understand about the world around me and the confusing and jumbled world that exists inside my mind.

When I had a mental breakdown and spent three weeks temporarily in a psychotic episode, I had many hallucinations about God and the End of the Life of this World.  At the time i believed i was experiencing doomsday, judgement day, the End of Time.

Reminiscing about that period of time in my life while staring up at the disappearing moon, I felt a sinking feeling of fear and dread.  What if God just decided this was it? What if God decided not to raise the Sun tomorrow morning? What if all the orbits of the planets ceased?

Soon immediate matters took over and i resumed my night on autopilot as i so often do.  Prep coffee machine, brush teeth, prepare for tomorrow morning’s school routines.  But now, laying in bed, I speak a silent prayer begging for Allah’s forgiveness and mercy. Because tonight I saw an image of time.  And from my humble perspective, we don’t have much to waste

Drifting Away

so maybe this isn’t the best format for me to attempt to write on and maybe this is not the ideal time to gather my thoughts and try to put them down on paper but maybe this is the best I’ve got and the closest I’ve come and so here it is and here I am:

Have you ever heard someone say that the only thing they know for sure is that they don’t know anything at all?  That sort of sums up the way I feel tonight. I’ve been up and down and around on a whirlwind of emotions since I last wrote.

Number one:  I don’t know what I’m doing as a parent.  I try so hard yet fail so easily. I have regrets and excuses and I’ve been so off track the parenting train that I don’t even know where the hell I’m headed now.

Number two:  I’m lousy. Just plain lousy. I like this word lately. It really pinpoints the emotion and where I’m at currently.  I hate everything, I have grievances against everyone, and especially, most of all, I can’t stand myself.  Being around myself just makes me cringe and I’d much rather be elsewhere…but I’m not.

Number three:  is the ride over yet?  I really, really want to get off.

And where would I be and where would I go?  To a crowded city and get lost in the alleys?  To the coast and throw myself to the sea?  To the infinite space above and away from this earth and out into orbit around some distant planet?  To the desert where I’d travel for days on end until I succumbed to Death and let it overtake me?

I have no hope.

I used to dream and challenge myself. I told myself someday I’d travel. Someday I’d read poetry on stage.  Someday I’d learn to ride a horse. Someday I’d learn to accept myself in my own skin.

I don’t dream anymore.  I’ve given up all hope.  I’m disappearing, and it is a relief.

Running Scared

Image result for depression

I don’t understand my depression.

Often I can’t identify when I’m depressed or not.  Sometimes I fall into the black hole without a moment’s notice, other times it drags on for months, subtly, until I wind up at the bottom, not even interested in climbing back out.

Is my lack of energy caused by my depression?  Is my weight gain, my lack of a desire to exercise, my overeating – are these caused by my depression, or am I just simply fat, lazy, and weak?  I call myself these things because that’s what I feel inside.  But maybe that is the depression talking?

Alright, I’m done whining.  Here’s a list to help me sort it all out.  Maybe it can help you, too:

Signs and symptoms of depression include:
  • Feelings of helplessness and hopelessness. A bleak outlook—nothing will ever get better and there’s nothing you can do to improve your situation
  • Loss of interest in daily activities. No interest in former hobbies, pastimes, social activities, or sex. You’ve lost your ability to feel joy and pleasure.
  • Appetite or weight changes. Significant weight loss or weight gain—a change of more than 5% of body weight in a month.
  • Sleep changes. Either insomnia, especially waking in the early hours of the morning, or oversleeping (also known as hypersomnia).
  • Anger or irritability. Feeling agitated, restless, or even violent. Your tolerance level is low, your temper short, and everything and everyone gets on your nerves.
  • Loss of energy. Feeling fatigued, sluggish, and physically drained. Your whole body may feel heavy, and even small tasks are exhausting or take longer to complete.
  • Self-loathing. Strong feelings of worthlessness or guilt. You harshly criticize yourself for perceived faults and mistakes.
  • Reckless behavior. You engage in escapist behavior such as substance abuse, compulsive gambling, reckless driving, or dangerous sports.
  • Concentration problems. Trouble focusing, making decisions, or remembering things.
  • Unexplained aches and pains. An increase in physical complaints such as headaches, back pain, aching muscles, and stomach pain.

(P.s. I hate these lists.)