Waiting to die

I've had a rough couple of days.  The good news is that I have an appointment with my psychiatrist on the 16th.  The bad news is that it is on the 16th, which seems like a lifetime away. 

I have no idea what "normal" is in life.  My life is not normal.  Other people are able to drive places, work, shop, clean, read a book, listen to conversation, take showers, laugh, love, feel - I am unable to do those things.  I want to do those things, and try very, very hard, but I just can't. 

It is impossible to accurately describe the difficulties that I am experiencing, because I honestly have no idea what is possible or normal.  My brain fails me.  I used to do so many things.  I was capable of great things.  Now I avoid causing myself any pain by staying in my home.  I rarely go out.  If I do, there are issues, and those issues are getting harder and harder to overcome so I've stopped testing the waters.  I very quickly move from one mood to the next and have lost the ability to "snap out of it" or respond to assistance from my husband to either calm down or climb out of a deep depression.

I want to be angry about this.  I want to be sad.  I have no feelings.  I have no life.  I serve no purpose.  I am of no use to myself or anyone else like this.

My day:

Wake up.  Breakfast.  Prednisone (still dealing with the Lamictal Rash).  Check email (if I can - fear of the unknown causes me great anxiety). 

And then I sit.  And sit.  And sit.  Sometimes I fall asleep, but mostly I just sit and think about how much I hate myself.  I do not watch television because it moves too fast for me.  Conversation makes me very angry.  I do not clean the house or shower or brush my teeth.  I have some facial wipes that I will use if I remember, perhaps once or twice a week before or after bed. 

I'll have some lunch.  If the dog has to go out I see if someone else in the house will put her out.  I'll do it if I have to.  I hate looking outside. 

If the dog barks, I freak out.  If a car drives by, my heart jumps.  If I receive bad news I will cry and want to end my life.  If something good happens, I feel nothing. 

I only go to the restroom if it is an emergency.  I spend my days frozen in place.  It is mentally and physically painful to do more than that. 

My therapist says that I am not lazy.  I argued with her, but she's right - I'm not.  There are so many things that I desperately want to do - take a walk, clean my closet, fold some towels, make a phone call - but those things cause me actual pain. 

I have been like this for years.  Back when I was working, I had to make a choice - do I shower?  If I shower I will have a hard time driving to work.  When I get to work I will have to find the ability to work.  Most days I just sat there and quietly cut my skin.  I would do a couple of things (type a letter, draft a document) but that was it.  When I got home I would hit the chair and dig my skin until I fell asleep.  I usually woke up the next morning in the same spot, wearing the same clothes.  If I'd showered the day before I would just change my shirt and brush my hair before heading out the door for another day at the office.  Near the end of my employment it was common for me to go for 4 days without showering. 

Right now I only shower if I have an appointment with my therapist.  I usually go at least 5 days in a row without a shower. 

My therapy appointments are scheduled on dates and at times when my husband is off work so that I have a ride.  I do drive on occasion (to buy a breakfast sandwich or go to the market), but I should not drive.  I stay within a 4 mile radius of home so it feels relatively safe, but it is not safe.  My brain has a very hard time keeping up with the speed of driving.  I used to zoom my ass down the street like a maniac.

The zoom is long gone but the maniac remains. 

I want to take care of myself.  In my mind I do not deserve a walk or nutritious meals.  Those are reserved for people who earn a living.  I am not working and should not be spending work hours (8:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m.) doing anything but sitting and thinking about what I should and would be doing if I had a job.   

This is not a life.  I do not have the tools to figure out how to live my life.  At this point, I have not found anyone else who knows how to help me.  Several medications have failed.  I suffered a horrible reaction to one of them, and the other two contributed to a 40+ pound weight gain in a few short weeks. 

I've lost everything.  I don't know how to make this right.  I'm just waiting to die because this is no way to live. 


 

Who am I?

Therapy today.  We discussed the new doctor and mood stabilizer (Lamictal).  I’ve been depressed…very down.  All things stop when I am like this – even self care.  I had to shower today because an appointment means that I must leave the house and be with other people who know how to live – who have the ability to live life with others.  Since my daughter left for college (and even prior to that), I have not showered.  I’m guessing at least 5 days.  This is not uncommon for me (or others in my present condition).  I am told that this will improve as symptoms improve with therapeutic medication levels.    

I have a long way to go.  My therapist assures me that I will get there, but it takes time.  I’m running on blind faith here.

We discussed things to this point.  I had it all – if you can call what I was living all; high-pressure career, appreciative clients, respect of my colleagues, all of which consumed my life for the last thirteen years; there was no balance.  I had nothing left after 5:00 p.m. 

Employers love people like me.  Our ultra-perfectionist nature is rewarded with ever-increasing work.  We are the all-too-willing community teat for the rest of the fucking slackers.  My therapist said (again) that she is shocked I made it as long as I did in that position/condition.  The unfortunate thing about employees like me is that we burn out in epic fashion, leaving the employer with a bit of a mess to clean up in the aftermath.  How many people will it take to do my job?  Well, I took some time off once and five people had a hard time getting shit done.  Stupid business practice, but I was a willing participant - always ready to please and please and please the unpleasable machine. 

We discussed my OCD, specifically my obsessive planning.  Some people can just go to the beach and enjoy.  I begin three days prior to that beach trip thinking about (in exhaustive detail) what to pack, food (recipes), parking, various routes to the location, cost, gas, how many people, does everyone have a towel, do we need extra sunscreen, what about the dog…packing the car two days before, gassing it up, first aid kit…

I said that I envy people who can just grab a towel and go – without a care – and enjoy the day.  I suck the joy from everything before we even get there.  I do that with everything in my life.  Everything.  I just clicked my teeth for every word written on this page.  I will make sure that the windows are up in my car eight times before I exit.  Everything I do is obsessively and compulsively regimented.  Everything. 

Once my moods have stabilized, we will begin to discuss me.  Who am I – really?  What makes me happy?  What do I like to do?  I've discussed this before; I do not have the answers to these questions – I never really did.  I was all work and that nearly killed me.  I’ve never asked myself these questions.  Why bother?  I was already dead.

My homework is to set a single goal each day and follow through.  Today, I showered.  Perhaps I will do something else.  I will note these accomplishments and do the same the next day.  If I fail to accomplish my goal(s), I am to focus on what went right, NOT obsess over what went wrong.  I have to learn that the "to do" list never ends.  I will never finish it.  Deadlines aside (another discussion) it is ok to leave things for the next day.  When the list is finished, you are finished.  That is life. 

My response to this homework assignment was a deep, tearful breath.  It’s like starting over from infancy with crawling, speaking, walking … and so on.  I crashed.  This is the bottom.

It is a long goddamn climb back to uncertain territory.  Will the view from the top be the horror that I remember?  I am not accustomed to not knowing how things will progress, so this work is particularly painful for me.

My car needs gas.  I haven’t pumped gas in weeks.  The last time I tried to pump my own gas I kicked the ever-loving dog shit out of the gas pump (and injured myself) in a manic fit of rage.  I have set a goal to gas up the car, by myself, again today and see how it goes.

Right now. 

    

Down the rabbit hole

I have reduced my psych medications to zero as if this evening.  In doing so, I have increased my mania ten-fold.  I should be hospitalized right now.  I am relying on Valium to get me through at this point.  Valium and avoidance.  I keep away from others to keep them safe from my razor tongue.  The shit that I say doesn't even make sense but I am tearing this family apart with every slice. 

I will burn it all down if I allow myself to think about it for very long.  I'm in here - deep in here - and it HURTS to be me.

I have lost so much, all at once, that I have no idea which end is up and the losses continue.  My only daughter will turn 18 in another state, away from me, just as she turned 16 in another state - without me.  It is probably for the best because I have been most unkind to her and I DO NOT MEAN TO DO IT, but there is that damn razor tongue again.  The little bits of buried me are powerless to the force that is mania. 

It's bad.  The medication was bad.  This is bad.  It's all bad.

Monday - new doctor - please hurry.   

 

Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus

Mania.  This is it.  Bloody screaming, crazy, out-of-control, shaking, running, speaking very fast, racing thoughts, see a knife, cleaning the counter, yelling, spitting, stomping, throwing, breaking, slamming doors, insulting, warning, yelling to others to go away and not witness....no, really - go away and do not watch this. 

Really.

Valium down the hatch.  Safe in a room under a blanket.  Trembling.  It will pass.  Very soon.

-EXTREME-

This is written at the top of every page from my psych nurse:  Bipolar I Extreme w/o Psychosis, though a few times there was psychosis and those were dark times indeed. 

I look at that and wonder what the fuck happened.  How did I get here?  How did this happen?  What fucking worm worked its way into my head and jumbled things about in such an EXTREME way that I can hardly manage the basics for daily living -- like self care? 

I have learned one thing - how to manipulate things (probaby not, but allow me this one indulgence).  If I say that I want to die - that sounds the alarms.  If I say that I want to hurt people, that sounds the alarms.  If I THINK those things but stop short of SHARING those things, all is well with the psych people.

Maybe.  Is it?  I don't know.  Perhaps they are smarter than I give them credit for, the fuckers.

Quite simply, I want my brain back in one piece, and I don't want to get lost on a ward forever.  I want things to work.  I want to be brilliant.  I realize now that much of my brilliance was probably a result of mania....and we are planning on losing that.  It's a shame because mania - controlled - is responsible for some of the most amazing things that humans have thought, written, acted, created...

I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

I am angry

I am angry - all the time.  People piss me the fuck off.  The person behind me in the theater with her feet up on the seat next to me - in my face.  Fuck you.  I hate you.  I hate the way you open your candy and chew like a cow.

The people in the back row at the movie theater, laughing and making loud comments - I hate you.  Fuck you.  Shut the fuck up.  I paid money to watch this shit and I want to watch it in silence.

People using that strobe flash feature on their smart phones to find their stupid way in the dark theater during the movie - I hate you.  Fuck you.  I hope you trip and break your stupid, selfish faces.

The person who parked on the cart pad at the grocery store because he/she was too lazy to PARK and fucking WALK to the store like everyone else - the person who felt that parking and walking was for other people and not him/her - I hate you.  Fuck you.  Yes I kicked your car in.  Sorry about that.  I couldn't get around you without falling down or getting wet so I made room by making your car smaller.  It was a public service.

The bitch in the grocery store, chatting the clerk up when all I wanted was some pasta salad from the deli - fuck you.  YEAH.  FUCK YOU.  We go to the same therapist and I will gladly tell this to your wandering eyed face you stupid bitch.  No one gives a fuck that you are upset about some stupid personal thing with some other dumbass.  Move over.  I hate you.  THIS is why I told my stupid psych nurse that I will not join in on group therapy.  I will tell every motherfucker in that room to get fucked.

I will.  It will be bad.  Trust me.

My therapist agrees, and feels that I should not be made to do something that I do not want to do.  We get along just fine.  She even says things that I do not agree with, but I don't feel the need to tell her to fuck off because she is not imposing on my life.  She is not busting her shit out all over my life.  She is considerate.  C-O-N-S-I-D-E-R-A-T-E.  Let's learn that word, assholes.  Let's keep to our own personal space and save the rest of the population from our stupidity.  Wouldn't that be lovely?

Yes - I am fucking angry. 

Monster

I have gained 36+ pounds in just over a month.  I know for a fact that I am not eating 6500 calories a day, so the discussion the pharmacist had with me about "significant weight gain" caused by my medications, and the worry she displayed in regards to that fact, are valid.

I feel like fucking shit.  I don't have the strength to roll over in bed, so I am stuck in one spot and wake with countless aches and pains - it's like someone is beating me during my sleep every night.  Well, when I actually sleep.  I get an average of 2-4 hours a night so that is hardly sleep.  Speaking of sore, my knees are SCREAMING from the added weight that I am carrying.  I can see my ass parked in a rolling fat cart if this keeps up because the gain has been so much, so fast, that any more weight will make it impossible to walk.  Standing is torturous.  STANDING. 

I have to stop this medication that I desperately need to stay alive.  How will I do that?  Which would you choose?  I will not survive.  I will take enough pills to fall asleep on the tracks and wait for the next train.  In the alternative, I will continue down this road - each day gaining a few more pounds and looking more and more like a monster.  Each day hiding the beautiful person beneath.  When people see fat they see slovenly, lazy, stupid, gluttonous.  They do not see illness, sadness, despair, hopelessness.

 

They do not see me.

I have been sqawking about the weight gain to my psych team for weeks now - since the beginning - and neither of my mental health team members seem to give a shit.  They are only interested in getting me into a hospital.  I was nearly blue-papered twice.  I'm not insane - I just need some assistance with these medications, assholes.

The fact is that the medications are not working.  While they may be pulling the poles in, they are not stopping the mad swinging between them.  I still go from manic to depressive in a matter of minutes, several times a day.  I don't want to kill myself - that is the only  change.

Whoopdefuckingdoo.        

I've been waiting

What an uneventful, quiet, relaxing day.  No major issues of any kind.  Of course the day is not over, but I am confident that the trend will continue until I retire for the evening.

With regard to anxiety and panic attacks, it is important to note that not only do these issues come about in certain situations, but certain people can trigger these events as well.  I did have to take a small bit of Valium today - just to head off some anxiety while a loud and boisterous person joined me this afternoon.  I have found that heading off a big issue by hitting it while it's still manageable is a wonderful strategy to keep things on an even keel.

Going back to this morning; I woke up groggy, which is normal.  When I opened my eyes, my dog (she is such a sweetheart) was sitting next to my bed with my slippers.  I am fairly certain that she put the slippers there while I was sleeping.  I am almost positive that I left them in the bathroom.  I patted her head, sat up, and put on my slippers while she waited.  Then she gave me her paw and smiled.  There are no words to describe how much I love my dog.  She brings pure joy to my life.  I am not always able to accept her gifts, but she is always there to give them. 

This was an "at home" day.  The dog napped out in the bright sunshine.  I spent time with my son, talked to my parents on the telephone, and surfed the internet.  I've been waiting for a day like this.  Tomorrow will take care of itself.  Right now I'll just enjoy the fact that everything is fine.


Update at 8:25 p.m.  I feel my mood slipping.  Nagging/negative thoughts are creeping in.  Work tomorrow - that place is not good for me.  I should leave.  Is any place good for me?  If I leave I will be a failure.  When we move we will lose our health insurance and we NEED our health insurance.  What if we do not find jobs?  What if I am unable to work?  What if we do not purchase a business?  Will we be able to afford private health insurance?  If I do not have my medications I WILL die.  There is no doubt about that.  I will die by my own hand. 

Fear and its buddies anxiety, panic, and depression are standing by.  I will probably hurt myself this evening in an effort to feel better ... to feel something ... and I do not want to.  I do not.  Causing new pain makes the old pain disappear, but pain is pain.  When will the pain go away?


Update at 9:51 p.m.  I AM SO FUCKING ANGRY.  ANGRY!!!!  I WANT TO SCREAM AND KICK AND THROW MY COMPUTER ACROSS THE ROOM AND BREAK EVERYTHING OF VALUE IN THIS HOUSE.  I WANT TO CRASH MY CAR AND TIP THINGS OVER AND KICK EVERY DOOR IN.  I do not have an outlet for this right now.  I am alone.  I am alone a lot.  I am fucking pissed off.  Outwardly I am just tapping and shaking.  Why are people leaving me alone?!?   EVERYTHING IS MESSED UP.  NOTHING IS RIGHT.  I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY.  SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE.  My chest hurts.  I just smashed my hands down on my legs and that did nothing to stop the anger.  This stupid fucking brain in my head is a piece of shit.  It is not mine.  I do not want it.

Update at 12:28 a.m.  Calming down now - feeling tired.  I have to work in a few hours and pray that sleep comes quickly.  Ha - I said "pray" - how odd.  Wouldn't it be wonderful to believe in a God?  Some sort of preternatural being?  I envy those who "give their woes" up to "God".  Damned sheeple.  My fucked up brain simply does not subscribe to such foolish notions, but I envy your simple existences.