Author: cmglife

Complex PTSD

Published on by cmglife

I have a story to tell about last Christmas. That’s the simple part.

What leads up to the reason of this story is complicated and to give all the details it might turn into a novel, so I’ll try to only give what’s necessary.  I’ve been living this story up until now for the last four years and hiding from it.  I’ve been too afraid to write about it in case it triggered an emotional collapse.  I’ve already been having those in real life!

Basically, I’ve been ostracized by my oldest daughter, my youngest son and my sister since my divorce.  I used to be the central person in our family and always planned great get togethers, especially Christmas.  I’m going to write the stories when I can. You can read them if you like. You need to know this to understand what happened last Christmas and why it directly relates to it.

Here’s the current story:

A casual comment from a friend of “What are you doing for Christmas?” And my response of “I host Christmas Breakfast, that is the time I am allotted”, caused a tsunami of emotion. To name all of them is impossible. I lied saying I was sick and barely got to my car without anyone noticing. I was sobbed all the way home.

Where was it coming from?  I did the usual things. Distraction, tv shows I’ve watched million times in the background, etc., took my meds and went to bed early.

In the morning, fine, but worried.  Then it hit me again out of left field and once again sobbing for 15 minutes. So hard I had to hold myself up by the banister.

I was terrified the ketamine has stopped working.  All I could think of was, “and then what?” there is nothing else.

Sunday was the same and Monday I got up enough courage to call my psychiatrist to get in before he went on vacation.  

On Tuesday my psychiatrist listened to my desperation about the ketamine. He listened and asked his questions and said it wasn’t the ketamine, but a ptsd reaction to this time of year. 

I said that couldn’t be right I was going to have the best Christmas since 2016!  My daughter was coming that week with the kids. My two sons were coming on Christmas morning and maybe the youngest was going to stay until 5.

He said all those years are still there though, it’s impossible to keep the memories at bay when I am already so vulnerable.  I believed him and after accepting this I got better every day.

I’ve always been ashamed of my PTSD reactions. I hadn’t seen anyone murdered, I haven’t been raped or been in a war.  I felt trauma, but where had it come from? Since I was little, I would have an array of reactions. I had agoraphobia from age 9 until 12. Fog, uncontrollable crying, burning in my chest, unable to catch my breath,  etc. Triggered by all sorts of things. Fear, getting in trouble, doing something wrong, etc.  All my life and even now I feel like I’m constantly preparing for something to jump out at me.

I’m actually glad it happened because when it happened again five days later I recovered much quicker knowing what was happening.  This time my whole family had got together at my dad’s house for boxing day and didn’t invite me.  I found out by accident, thus another shock causing it.  I did have a hard time just writing that to be honest.

Eventually my therapist diagnosed me with complex PTSD which is more complicated because it is caused over a long period of trauma.  Mine would be my home life as a child, catholic school and my ex husband. It was also caused by the condition itself by having to deal with the reactions causing more trauma. People with mental health problems can feel trauma from events where others don’t.

It’s time to move on and write a happier story (and start a little EMDR again)!

https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/conditions/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/complex/

Ruminating

Published on by cmglife

Today, I began to read my blog posts from the beginning. I’ve been avoiding it because I’m not sure what I will find and how they will make me feel.  Scrolling down (a long way down) I didn’t expect to arrive at 2012.

I feel I must read them because there is such a wide gap between when I stopped writing and now. It’s like I’m reading them for the first time (I have a terrible memory).

I started my blog to express myself after learning I had Bipolar 2.  I stopped writing for a long time because of several reasons, mostly depression.  All I could focus on was staying alive all while looking like nothing was wrong.

I’ve only read three or four early posts so far; they made me smile.  The progression of my life from 2017 until now is sad and I’m not looking forward to reading those. 

I still am not allowed to see my grandchildren and the four-year anniversary of when this nightmare began is this September 8th.

I realized recently that I didn’t even know the word ruminate existed until my daughter banished me from her life. It’s very hard for me to avoid ruminating, especially when I don’t understand, been given no information and I do not have any control. Sometimes it feels like a physical battle, and it has a mind of its own, a separate entity that keeps creeping in when I least expect it.

I am getting on my feet again though

My therapist says that while this has been and is still terrible and there is no explanation for the alienation of my grandchildren, being better with the ketamine helps me not fall off that cliff so regularly.

I was, and am, a good mother. I should ruminate on that.

Another Ketamine Update

Published on by cmglife

Update on my last Ketamine fusion and how it has changed my life.  I could really stop there; that says it all. 

Let me step away for a minute and count the exact days on my calendar hanging on my fridge dedicated to my depression free days from infusion to infusion.  33 days.

I try to keep in mind that ketamine is a treatment, not a cure.  I remind myself that I still have bipolar 2 and Treatment Resistant Depression (TRD).  When I remind myself of that, I think of it for a minute and then push it away. 

Occasionally, I have what I call a “dip” (my old name and feeling was “falling off a cliff”) thank God that hasn’t happened since the treatment started working. That sense of dread when a dip moment occurs, and I don’t know the reason for it.  My poor old brain leaps right to “it’s back”.

I think I’ve found an explanation. I don’t know what emotions people with healthy brains feel.  I give it some thought and come up with a few reasons.

Most likely it’s stress. Stress has always been a killer for me. 

It could be from working too much and anxiety from that. 

Worrying about money (definitely).

I’ll keep writing about the ketamine, but I really want to start writing about my day-to-day things again. My posts have been so heavy for a long time they need a little nonsense.

Ketamine Infusion Update

Published on by cmglife

I know I said last time I posted I would keep up on the progress the ketamine infusions was making to my Treatment Resistance Depression (TRD). I’m sorry if you were curious and I didn’t.

I think it maybe because it is working so miraculously that I didn’t feel the need to write tragic feelings of desperation that I so often did.

I hardly write in my journal anymore except for interesting things that happen during the day.

I’m still suffering from PTSD reactions, ketamine on its own hasn’t helped. My therapist has agreed to go with me next time and guide me through some of the events that still trigger them. Research shows that it is also very helpful to talk through the events during the euphoria therefore being able to reframe them.

I’ve attached my calendar that I check off daily. when I’m feeling not depressed.

If it’s a little worse for wear, I think that’s a good sign that I’m actually using it everyday.

Back to the End

Published on by cmglife

It’s been 2 1/2 years since I’ve posted. I don’t know why, I thought about it every once in a while. I thought  about how good it used to do for me and why I couldn’t do it anymore. 

Maybe it was living with bouts of depression day to day was infiltrating even that. I’ve been dangling by a thread for a long time. How did I keep my grip? And more importantly why did I keep it? Sharing what was happening in my life was the original reason I started my blog to figure out my life and emotions with a Bipolar 2 diagnosis.

I’m able to write again because I found something amazing. Before I began to write again, I forced myself to read back through the entries that prevented me from writing. I read the latest three and that was all I could take. Reading the posts and remembering the pain of depression and hopelessness was too much.

In September 2021, my psychiatrist diagnosed me with TRD (Treatment Resistant Depression). That name alone caused a new degree of hopelessness. Experts say that a person needs
to try at least four different treatments before depression can be truly considered treatment resistant. I’ve tried five, maybe more, my doctor didn’t have to root through the 11-year file he has on me to come to this conclusion. Not only antidepressants alone, but combinations like Seroquel or Abilify.

So here is the amazing thing, I started ketamine infusions March 18. I had my 3rd one on March
25, last Friday. That makes three. For the first time I’m feeling a difference. I am a “slow starter” according to the doctor so that is why it took the third ketamine infusion to start to make a difference.

What does “feeling a difference” mean to me? Happy, for only three days I’ve noticed a real happy, not a manic happy. Even just a taste of this emotion that I haven’t had for so long is like a drink of water when you are thirsty. I am sharper, more focused.

I’m going to keep writing about this experience with hope. I haven’t had hope for a very long time and it’s nice to welcome it back.

Crying it out.

Published on by cmglife

I did “Last the day”.

I talked with my dr and he said there is nothing in my medicines or withdrawal off antidepressants that would cause this depression or crying.

“I’m not diminishing your pain,” he said, “but often you have a hard time coping”.

Normally I would have been insulted or felt unheard, but I had already thought of something close to that myself.

Could these tears be grief?

Maybe I just need to cry it all out like I’ve done before.

When I was little I cried for weeks when we moved, when friends moved. Cried for two weeks when I had to put down my dogs, my daughter moved to Wisconsin, my mom died, etc.

Most recently my divorce, the other woman, ostracized by my sister and kept from my grandchildren.

Maybe what I am misinterpreting as depression is actually grief . Maybe this is the way other people handle their emotional pain and I used to because I recognized the event.

So I’m giving it a go. I’ll be crying my eyes out and not questioning it. Sounds like utter hell, I’ll just release the sadness and cry until the tears stop.

I’m all about a plan.

Lasting the Day

Published on by cmglife

Depression is back. I have reasons.

I’m now on depakote. I’m depressed and so weepy. That pathetic crying that I can’t move, tears rolling over my cheeks. I now realize that it is better than a full on noisy shoulders shaking episode. Sometimes they are impossible to hold back.

“Lasting the day” means waiting until tomorrow to call my psychiatrist and ask what to do. He has given me his cell number and I’ve used it.

I’m trying to figure out why I’m waiting. Maybe I have lost hope that another 18 hours will make any difference and it probably won’t. I’m losing hope for any of this.

Be back tomorrow.

URC BD

Published on by cmglife

I’ve had a small glass of wine. I’m resisting the urge to write.

I have Ultra Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder. I’m not sure if there is “2” “II” behind it or not for this glamorous sounding disease.

Now, and for the last five days, I’ve taken a dive into the abyss of depression. No, I’m calling it a fall into the abyss of depression, that sounds less deliberate, because I certainly have no control over it.

If you know anything about or suffer from a mood disorder and read my last post, I think it is obvious that I had begun falling in a dramatic way.

I’m much more aware and less likely to fight against admitting defeat these days, so I call my Dr. and get in right away.  There is always a lot of crying on my part and a lot of rifling through my three maybe four-inch-thick file folder on his part.  I think I’ll mention to him next time – it’s time for a binder.

He looks, he thinks, I cry, I tell him what I think is wrong and he comes up with yet another plan. 

I’ve been cycling again, but not at all in a fun way, I’m not getting the pleasant phase. The productive, “Aren’t I amazing? “ and “I love me!” phase. All depressed and irritability. More like angry and pissed off. Either sobbing or berating myself as pathetic. Raw exposed nerves, don’t even talk to me and definitely don’t touch me! I want to be hit by a truck and throw things that aren’t cooperating. I’m not eating either. I cannot even enjoy the lack of appetite and therefore lack of calories because it is a danger sign that I’m getting closer to the edge.

No one knows I’m felling this way because I have way too many responsibilities and way too high standards for myself to drop the mask I have perfected over a lifetime.

So about now you might be thinking, where is all this going? She has definitely not been able to resist the urge to write.

I was resisting the urge to write because I had a small glass of wine.  I know I am not supposed to drink because of my condition, but when I feel this depressed it is the only relief I get until the medicine starts to work.  Luckily, I metabolize medicine very quickly.  That is also a plus for the very small amount of wine I need.  I have been known, a year or so ago and before, to drink a lot every night. And now I don’t. 

Writing my thoughts and feelings in a blog about being diagnosed with such a stigmatized illness was a great outlet for me. I couldn’t tell anyone I knew because of the shame I felt. It took me months before I told my husband. Drinking was the only way to feel anything. The medicine was levelling me out but there was nothing left. Being buzzed wasn’t the same, but at least I didn’t feel dead.

So what’s next for me? Drink and then write again? Today, and with the way I’m feeling, the buzz feels a tiny bit good and writing this feels good. It feels real. It makes me feel like me. The real me that I love. If other people felt this way about me I know they would love me too.

Now for something serious.

Published on by cmglife

It’s been a year since my oldest daughter has let me see my beloved grandchildren. She just moved back to town, an eight minute drive that I have only made once.

During a series of unfortunate events, she has ostracized me, banished me from her life. Only in my imagination and deep down believing it to be true I deserve this complete rejection, loss and humiliation.

I can’t go on right now because even after a year I can only keep this at bay before it envelops me once again in complete despair.

My New Mantra – Life Sucks

Published on by cmglife

My therapist has been trying to break me of the way I view life when I’m happy or depressed. When I’m happy because things are going well and I’m accomplishing my emotional goals, I tend to think nothing ever bad will happen that I can’t handle. And then, of course, as soon as depression comes on or something terrible happens, I rate it as the worst I’ve ever felt and the emotions will never lift and I will never have control over my life.

I’ve got some pretty bad situations going on right now. For a year actually. I can’t believe I’ve made it as far as I have without cracking. I almost cracked a year ago over the summer. Rock bottom, thank god I’ve reached it and hopefully never have to take back that statement. I ended up in the hospital because of a practice suicide. I’ll have to explain that another time too, because this post is about reality.

I thought one day, a revelation of sorts, who ever said your life was supposed to be happy? It was actually a relief after I thought about it for a few days. I was always feeling like I wasn’t doing things right or failing getting my life in order.

Life sucks and then it gets better. I repeated it so many times and it blew my mind. The disappointment is gone when something bad happens and the joy of living in the moment when things are good is contentment. Imagine me, being content? If it’s only for an hour or so, I’ll take it! It is a brand new emotion for me. It’s rare for anyone I thing unless you are baby or a sleeping golden retriever.

So when I realized life sucks, etc, I created the “spiral”. I framed it and it hangs on my my wall so I can see it. The heart is there because one day I hope to love myself.