For some reason, my depression came back and smacked me upside my head this afternoon. I’ve felt emotional good for quite awhile now. I hate this feeling – and especially that I have to push it down and hide it … Pretending that all is well even when it is sucking out my emotions. I HAVE to hide it. I have to. Anxious Fearful Angry. For the first time in a very very long time, I wanted to punch a cinder block wall. I put the knuckles of my fist up to it and turned my fist, pushing through as I would in a power punch.
So … new insurance means finding a new person to handle meds. Met with that person yesterday. Oh, and yesterday kind of s#cked. Made several professional mistakes that I could be called to task on and/or written up for. Trying to stay on top of too many things at once and that means making mistakes. On to the new prescriber, a psychiatric nurse practitioner. After spending over an hour with her, she’s decided to double the amount of Zoloft (generic version) from 50 to 100 mg. I knew the 50 mg was low, but it was mainly to stop the crying. And she’s also increasing my Lamictal from 200 to 300 mg. She says that’s the most that should be taken before its effectiveness decreased. She wanted me to take the rest of the week off of work but I refused to. Conferences and assessments to be done. Next week is a vacation week, so that should help. As always happens, she wanted me to assure her that if I felt like hurting myself, I would call 911. I said I wouldn’t do that. Would I call her? I said, “honestly, no.” Heer response was the expected, “if you can’t do that, then I need to hospitalize you.” My response, “I have no desire to kill myself, but I can’t say I won’t hurt myself.” I’d told her that my self harming had gone from the more obvious cutting and burning to the non-visible purging. Even though it is not a good thing. This seemed more satisfactory to her and she let me go at that. I’ve never wanted to kill myself. There are too many things in life I want to see .. like grandchildren someday, my family, the world, what happens in life! Sometimes I just don’t want to hurt so much. It’s not even all the time, just when things happen. I just want to feel ok with myself and not so volatile or sensitive to everything. The roller coaster has NEVER been a ride I enjoyed ( real or metaphorically speaking.) And it’s not too thrilling for others on the ride with me either, ie my husband and family.
We’ll see how it goes. Today, I’m feeling better – but that’s also how it seems to go. I really would like to be ok with myself some day. From what I hear, I’m a pretty decent person.
The first trimester of school is almost over. I can’t believe we’re a third of the way through the school year already! I still don’t feel like I’m on firm ground, there’s so much to do and to get used to. On top of lots of assessments of students, meetings, teaching … I’m exhausted and typically spend ten hours a day at school. And, I’m not sleeping very well, unless I take three different things to help me get to sleep.
This week has been especially stressful. There’s been a lot of anxiety. My first meeting of the week went well on Monday. I had another on Wednesday that wasn’t so good. I was nervous and the computer program/site that we process our paperwork on wasn’t working correctly and really messed up my report. Can’t blame it … that’s just what happens sometimes. But, because I’m new there and feeling unsure about teaching after 2.5 years away from it, the way that meeting went felt horrible. One of the other specialists saw me later in the day and could tell how much I’m struggling. She was very supportive and tried to help me feel more secure in what I do. I am very lucky to work with people like her!
Yesterday was going pretty well, until a student in my room had an absentee seizure. It wasn’t stopping, nurse was there, 911 called … I think he’s ok though. 🙂
Today was crazy, crazy! We had a fire drill and evacuation drill first thing. Got back to school and was able to work with two classes before lunch. Just as lunch was ending. we found out there was a gunman incident happening in town and the whole school district went into lockdown mode. For three hours! Everything at school was ok. Unfortunately, two police officers were killed and another injured.
On top of all this going on, I’m struggling with finding a new doctor to prescribe my medications. I think I need to see a general practitioner first. I only have about a month of meds left, so it’s a time issue. I’m on new insurance, so everything has to switch. I’ve been working on it, but seem to call after business hours. That’s on me – to find the time and remember to call when someone is available to take my call.
Please understand, I’m not complaining and I hope it doesn’t come across as if I am. It’s just been a difficult transition and I am struggling with it. Unfortunately, the stress has triggered my bulimia and I’m using that to cope more often. Not a good plan! I feel the decades of it in my chest whenever I do purge. I started writing this post because I’m feeling very full from the pot pie I had for supper. I really wanted to purge, but didn’t. I hate that full feeling. At least it’s good that my meds have my BPD well in check!
Thanks for reading through my ramblings.
I’m very afraid of what this new approach to my therapy will bring. But I asked for it. I feel like I’m in Limbo. Something am waits, but what. I want to force it out of hiding, yet fear it will be my undoing to do so. The fear makes me want to do things to myself to avoid facing it … Binge, purge, cut, burn, drink, pills … My skin is crawling. I don’t really want to hurt myself, just trying to avoid the unknown fear. Binging and purging isn’t working. I’ve no strong desire to cut and burn (feelings aren’t at that intensity right now) and having a drink just makes me sadly aware of the fear and avoidance.
I want to talk but am afraid of what I might say or ask. The truth might be too hard, too uncomfortable – demanding what of me?
“I don’t think you really have BPD,” She said. Then what? Am I just fucked up? I know my life is a dream compared to others. But I cannot deny the fear and trepidation that fill me. I put on a laughing facade around my friends. They say they are always there to help, but how can they? This all seems so childish of me. Get over it! Shut up the words that resound in your head. Silence can be so deafening.
Drinking makes me depressed, just like they say it will. Not a good thing to do. Ok, off to bed. Night all.
No, I’m not burning, cutting or raging … but anxiety is closing me in and I am again binging and purging. But the purging isn’t working out much, so there’s lots of guilt and shame. Closing in on myself.
In counseling, we’ve changed directions a bit, on my request, from some DBT to cognitive behavior therapy. I want to look at my perceptions of myself and my world. I’m again feeling like I’m being told that I’m not what I thought. (Don’t really feel like going into that right now though.) Instead of looking at mindfulness and distress tolerance, I’ve started talking about what’s missing. Words that I don’t even want to utter out loud. I haven’t burned or cut in a long time, but I’m back to doing what I’ve spent the most number of years doing … binging and purging. So secretive, so personal, so difficult to get to succeed any more. My body rebels and I fail. Fail.
I find my body getting very still, to watch around me and see if I’m being noticed, my thoughts heard. I’m getting ready to go on a week and a half driving trip. There are questions I’d like to ask as we have this time alone together. But I cannot, unless I want us both to regret it. So I’m locked in silence and the silence is crushing as it intensifies. Sabotage? Fear, loneliness in the midst of togetherness
I haven’t written for awhile now. I’m stuck. Trying counselling, but don’t know if it’s helping. I cry a lot – at the mention of my father, future losses, failures I think I’ve had with my son and husband. I cry because I can’t go back in time to change what I said or did. I cry because I’m afraid of what I’ve lost or might lose. It’s oppressive at times.
The counselor tells me to keep practicing mindfulness, and that some of the things I share with her indicate that I am being mindful at times. She reminds me that I can’t change the past or predict the future. Bemoaning and anxiety. I keep trying. It is SO hard though. Emotions run amuck. Sensations of the walls of the past and future close in around me, leaving little room for mindfulness. The pressure of the past and future engulf me, causing me to panic and forget where I’m at. I suppose that as I practice being mindful, I should get stronger and be able to push the walls back into place. At least that’s what I think my counselor would say if I shared my analogy with her. Is the goal then to push them back until the room they shape (my life) is as large as possible?
I’m off the Latuda and trying Lamotrigine again. No more “crawling out of my skin” feeling, which is good. I think the Lamotrigine is helping a little, but the dose hasn’t been finalized yet. Slowly increasing it. I’ve also been dealing with a lot of pain in both of my legs lately. The doctor thought it was bursitis, but is now considering a bulging disc. The pain is horrible at times. At night, if I change positions, it feels like my legs have been stabbed with a knife, and the blade drawn down to my knee. I fall asleep crying and afraid of changing positions during the night. I’m sure this isn’t helping my depression! I’m dissatisfied with EVERYTHING in my life. Overly emotional (though I haven’t blown up in a rage in awhile!) Last weekend, I was driving with my husband and started crying. His reaction was, “Good Lord!” I know that it was just because he’s frustrated with me always feeling down. He’s been there with me through it for over 30 years, and I’m sure it’s exhausting to be around when you don’t know how to help.
I know my life is filled with blessings, and it’s easy to start naming and acknowledging them. But that doesn’t make a difference with depression, and I feel that most people don’t understand that. When I recognize that I am blessed, yet still battle with my depression on a daily basis, I again realize that it is a disease. Something is amiss in my brain chemistry. And this brings me back to my depression. I may receive treatment for it, but it will always be there … a part of who I am. Some days, I feel hopeless and wonder why I am still here.
I want to be exuberant and filled with joy at life and the wondrous world I live in. Will that ever be? I do have brief moments of laughter and happiness. But they don’t last more than a day or so. At least they do come round though. Most days, I hide my depression behind a facade. My smile doesn’t make it to my eyes. Do people even recognize this? I don’t know, but it gets me through the moments so that I don’t SEEM to be down so much. It makes me feel like I haven’t been a very good wife or mother.
I’m just SO tired of being sad and crying at the drop of a hat! Just writing this has me in tears. Saying good-night to my son has me in tears. I am very lucky and blessed to have him as my son. He is kind and generous and thoughtful … a good person through and through. I’m happy that I’ve had a part in developing those characteristics in him. I am fearful that he might develop some of my condition as he gets older. But I have to be mindful and in the moment. He isn’t like that now, and I have no way of knowing about the future. So I do enjoy and appreciate him for who he is today. And the time I spend with him.
On a different note, last weekend, I went with some friends to a place where they take you through the creation of a painting. Usually the painting was done by someone famous. We were all taken through painting “The Old Vineyard.” I didn’t recognize the painting, but the whole process was fun and a great way to spend an afternoon with a few friends. I’m hoping it will get me to pull out my paints and canvas and have a go of it at home.
Sometimes, I just want to go to sleep and stay asleep. But i also don’t want to miss out on life. I want to see my son grow and have a good life and family. I hope to be a grandmother some day – and think I will be a good one. Those of you will know what I mean. I’m just so tired of being sad – for what seems like no reason. I want to live life fully, but am having a hard time doing so.