Category: depression

The Accidental Kindness of Strangers

Published on by cmglife

Yesterday I backed into a car while attempting to get into a parking space.

I got out of my car and we looked at the damage. I had dented and cracked his bike rack. No damage to mine. The man wasn’t very nice and actually said, “You’re not going to skip out on this are you?” He stated this in several different ways several times. The nerve!

Side Note: I did not have a terrible reaction the way I used to when I did something wrong. My eyes only filled with tears and lips quivered. Almost, but not quite, my face began to crumple into “oh god I’m going to cry” phase. Honestly I’m not ashamed of any of that. I think that would be a normal reaction to an unpleasant situation.

While standing there trying to keep my calm, I felt a hand on my shoulder and it was the director of the event I was working. He asked if I was alright. He had such a genuine look of concern, a few more tears leaked out. He asked if I needed to go home he would understand. I said I would be alright and he gave me a hug.

On my way into the event someone else approached me to ask how I was and she gave me a hug.

Half way through the event a volunteer checked in to see if I needed anything and I got another hug.

When the event was over the director came by again and I thanked him . I said I couldn’t believe how kind everyone was and how much it meant to me that I wasn’t standing there in the middle of the street alone.

This maybe a bit dramatic, but it was human nature, as it could be and was that in that moment.

This accident was no accident. The more I think about it, to experience kindness and worth as a human being, well, was worth the deductible.

When can we get in on this PRIDE thing?

Published on by cmglife

Today, on the last day of PRIDE month, it dawned on me….how do I (and other mental illness sufferers) get a PRIDE thing of our own? I want to feel safe to come out too.

I spent an hour writing four paragraphs of how we can’t come out and then I deleted them. What I had written is not necessary because we know the truth of having to live with a mood disorder. The constant spread of misinformation in this society keeps us scared and hidden.

I think our word would have to be different entirely, because I do not feel proud. I don’t know how I could. It would be like feeling proud living with diabetes or heart disease. Both, by the way, have a huge impact on health, but no stigma.

Here is what I came up with:

RESILIENCE Month – boring

BRAVE Month – boring

GRIT Month – I like this one, but it’s got a “mechanic feel” that doesn’t feel right.

COMPASSION Month – Could refer to anything.

I needed help coming up with more words for our very own PRIDE month so, of course, I searched Google hoping that maybe AI could come up with something better.

This one sentence below says more than I could have said in a thousand paragraphs .

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.

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.

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.

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.

Rock Bottom, Hit

Published on by cmglife

Have you ever been so sad that you can’t move?  Feeling so depressed and rejected that even moving your face to cry is impossible?  Tears just roll down your cheeks? Chest unable to heave?

The feeling of unimportance finally proven to be true?  That all along fighting the thoughts of being unlovable were in vain?

All of those coping skills learned, all of the meds, all of the triumphs to succeed in life against incredible odds fail?

The betrayal so overwhelming and complete that your broken heart can’t move you?

The only way to tell these feelings is in a blog, because telling anyone else just makes you look more pathetic than you already feel?

This is the place I usually insert the last line of hope or whit not to worry anyone that I might finally crack.

This morning sitting comatose on my couch for the first time in my life might just be a step closer.