Category: bipolar II

Making Sound Mistakes

Published on by cmglife

I made a decision about 3 years ago that my delicate brain and all it had to do every day to merely stay alive, work, manage a business, go outside and talk to people would not be helped by watching the news.

One day came along recently where I decided it was my duty as a human in this world to find out what was going on. I don’t know why I feel the need to cause myself more stress and upset to do things that have a detrimental affect on my delicate emotional state.

As an example, a few months ago I decided that I was going to force myself to eat in the lounge with the other staff at work. I didn’t feel confused at all as to my motivation at the time. With my past history of making “sound mistakes” why would I question it now? This is where the eye rolling emoji would come in handy, it is my go to. My reasoning was, as an introvert, maybe it would be good for me to mingle and talk. I know all of the people after all. I steeled myself, went in and sat at the last chair of the long table. I observed and listened to the people talking. I tried to put my two cents in a couple of times, because I thought I had to. What ended up happening was me feeling even worse about myself than before I made that decision in the first place.

I told my therapist how proud I was that I tried and how terrible I felt when it had failed. She said “Why did you do it? You know you don’t like that sort of thing .” I wish I could have her in my pocket ready to tell me how to react to everything I do or say or anybody that says anything to me. I don’t have to “conquer” situations I’ve arbitrarily decided to conquer. It’s been awhile since I tried that experiment, for lack of a better word, and I actually feel more confident in myself and who I am. So even though the reason for it was confusing and convoluted (which is on brand for me) it did teach me something. I don’t like those sorts of things and there is nothing wrong with that.

Before that “teaching moment”, I need my favorite emoji again, I did look at the news for the first time in 3 years. The first story was the fire that demolished entire neighborhoods in Boulder, CO. Quite recently I thought it was my duty to look again. The story that time was a female mayor of a town in Mexico was gunned down by the cartel after the election. Today, this was actually by accident, but I could have changed the channel. Donald Trump is running for President. Okay, I did hear some things about him being on trial. I felt I probably really did need to know more about that situation, but I did not expect his running for president. I’ll ask my sister to tell me all about that so I don’t have to fall into some other news that I shouldn’t be aware of.

So in closing, I’m going back to only knowing the news if I overhear it by accident. I thought it was smart to do it, but ended up feeling ashamed. That is wrong thinking. I need to protect myself in everyway I can. There is a lot riding on me.

Resting Bitch Face

Published on by cmglife

I have the (oh so popular) “resting bitch face”, but I am really not one. I describe my cat as a lovable Labrador (he’s a cat that’s why it’s funny). This is his version, resting serial killer face.

Deconstructed Birthday Cake

Published on by cmglife

So here’s the deal. I have a lot of talents, cooking and baking is not one of them. Every time I try anything different, 50% of the time it doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to.

The reason for this particular post and the reason I’m actually including my first video ever is because not only was it a total catastrophic fail, but extremely funny, at least I thought so!

I made a cake for my son, a delicious looking lemon one I found online. I read the recipe and I decided I could do it.

That afternoon, I came out with it, birthday candles lit, we sang and I put the cake in the middle of the table.

I explained the reasons it looked so good. I had buttered the pans. Used parchment paper. Froze both layers so I could frost them without getting crumbs in the frosting. I was so proud of myself!

My son cut the cake with some trouble, and handed out the slices.

I started to eat my slice commenting I didn’t realize it was so dense (I had trouble getting my fork through it) Then I saw it, parchment paper! I had forgotten to remove the parchment paper from the layers. Not only that, I had actually frosted over the paper in each layer!

There’s nothing more to say.

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/

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.

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.

Simplicity…. Could it be that simple?

Published on by cmglife

I’ve not been able to write about my life in a long time.  I realized that when I wrote down what was going on it brought it all back.  It turns out I am still a master at not thinking about things when I stay busy.  That sounds like a very simple strategy, but it works even better now that the “tricks” I’ve learned over the years are now finally embedded in my brain.  It’s a lot like when we hear repeatedly,”to lose weight, diet and exercise.”  I had decided not to believe that before (me and the people that spend more than a billion dollars on dieting.”  Well, it is true, it’s boring, but it’s true.  Turns out thinking positively, keeping a positive journal (no matter how fake and cheesy if feels in the beginning) works.  Trying very hard and consistently to not dwell on things you cannot fix – works too!

Beginning from my divorce, I’ve slowly lost all the relationships that have been the center of my world. I’m not going to rehash the details, but I will begin to write how I’m dealing with it.

From what I’ve learned so far, simplicity.

A Pig With No Name

Published on by cmglife

In the beginning of my divorce I bought a ceramic pig with wings. It was meant to symbolize how I used to think I could only leave John “when pigs fly”.

I set it on the floor of my car and before I even got home it’s ear had broken off. I glued it back on and again, thought about how it symbolized mending my life. I usually name things, and was waiting for a name to come to me.

Shorty after I moved into my new place I knocked the pig over and his other ear broke off. I didn’t have glue so I used packing tape to fix it temporarily. Again more symbolism for the particular divorce hell I was going through and I was doing my best “taping my life together’

The dog knocked it off about 3 months ago (had thought I’d moved him to a safer place), I taped the ear back on again. I still couldn’t come up with a name.

Last week I was taking a frame off the wall and it fell on the pig and he lost both ears.

So now I have a different view. That pig had become the Dorian Gray of my life. Looking good on the outside, but in reality, rotting, hidden from view. Even fixing him each time didn’t work. And after its last accident and my last post, I think it’s time to get him out of here!

I’ll Take It

Published on by cmglife

Yesterday, I had a student guess my age at 35. Granted, it came from a 13 year old boy, but at 51, I let my self enjoy it for a minute!