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.
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.
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.
Something’s wrong and I can’t figure it out. I went off the latuda because, although it helped my mood, it made me feel really creepy. I felt like my skin was crawling and couldn’t handle not doing something – although nothing was what I wanted to do. So now I’m on lamotrigine (building up my dosage). I’m apprehensive of side effects. The last time I was on this, I gained 25 pounds in one month, so was quick to get off it. Hopefully it was something else that made me gain the weight back then, and the lamotrigine will work this time. Aside from that, I have overwhelming feelings of dissatisfaction with my life. It seems to all be for naught. I can’t find success in anything I do. I’m not adding to anything.
And then there’s losses. Last May, my dad passed away and I’m still not over it. In a few months, my son graduates from high school and moves out and into his new life. My mom is 89 and doing well, but life keeps moving and people will keep passing out of my life. I can’t seem to get anything figured out anymore. My head can’t wrap around simple tasks. I’m moody and don’t even realize it until it’s pointed out. I want to crawl into bed and never leave.
I haven’t posted in awhile and I think it’s a good thing. I’ve been feeling better. I’m now on Latuda (mood stabilizer) and it seems to be helping – a lot. There haven’t been any flare ups of my rage for awhile now. Whew! I know they can come at any time though. I will enjoy this time as long as it lasts and hope that the medication will decrease the severity of my rants. I know it’s still with me and will always be. On FaceBook today, I came across this picture and it serves as a good reminder.
I know I still have lots to learn … in time.
The episode has ended. I’ve tried to talk about it. I don’t know what to say – I hate myself like this. I don’t know how to change. Nothing seems to help. Maybe I should be turned over to the state and hospitalized, but I doubt they’d do that because the episodes aren’t continuous. Only every 2-3 weeks. So the rest of the time should be fine, right? Live life knowing that “IT” is coming, you just don’t know when. I can’t live with me. How can I expect anyone else to either? And what have I got to look forward to? Research says symptoms tend to lessen during your 40’s. Mine never did and now I’m in my 50’s. Is this pattern to repeat for the next 20, 30 or ever 40 years? What kind of life is that for me or anyone close to me? I’ve ceased to be of benefit to anyone. Enough said.
Why do some responses, actions and words feel so crushing inside? Things that are really no big deal FEEL huge and overpowering. One just happened. We are setting up some new furniture on our deck. I had repainted a fountain that was in my garden and put it on the deck for the winter. My husband says, “You’re not leaving that on the deck, are you?” Immediately, my insides curl up like I’ve done something terrible. I haven’t, and it’s not a big deal, but I FEEL like it is. I’m wrong in keeping it there. I’ve done something that he didn’t want me to do. I know and understand that my internal over reaction is a part of my BPD extreme sensitivity, but knowing this doesn’t change how I’m feeling. I want to crawl in a hole and disappear – all because of a simple statement! This hyper sensitivity is what I hate most about my BPD. Knowledge does not quell it. An it can be a factor in an upheaval of raging behavior that has yet to surface, adding on to each little iota of irritation, fear, anxiety or whatever that builds inside of me. Conflict with my world. I feel it in my chest, throat, head – and throughout my body. My head pulls down on my neck, like a turtle trying to withdraw into its shell. My shoulders hunch as my throat sucks in, trying to shrink my body until I disappear. It can make me seek distraction and lack of distraction brings chaos. I feel it swirling, making me curl up inside, wanting to avoid all interactions. How can something so little as a question become so big that it envelopes me completely?
I can feel it welling up inside. Frustrated about my job. Teacher’s aid, I take a group of upper elementary students (7) who are too disruptive to be in class during math, and try to do math with them in another room – where they are all disruptive. Often, several of them can’t handle that either and need to go to the office. Now being told that I can’t send them there but have to send them to the kindergarten room instead. Yesterday, one student told me about being punched in the eye before school. The other student bragged about it at lunch. I talked to the classroom teacher and learned that the director had asked the student to think about what punishment they should receive. Even though the student handbook says this kind of physical conduct means suspension from school.
What message does this send to other students? NO CONSISTENCY! No wonder there is no improvement in the behavior problems.
Two classrooms are working on a play they are putting on. There are many that can’t participate because of their behavior being so disruptive. Yet these same students are expected to sit quietly and watch while the other students rehearse. Anyone see problems occurring in this scenario? You bet!
There’s lots more, but this is enough. Now that I’ve spewed this out in writing, I’m hoping to start my work day a little less stressed.
Sorry to just have a venting post, but I needed to get it off my chest.
FOLLOW UP …
A better day at work today, but I find myself yelling at students. That’s not the way to handle things and I know it. But it shows how frustrated I’m feeling.