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 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.
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.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the men I choose in my life suck.
The first man to suck was the father of my oldest daughter. I was just 20. He abandoned us when I gave birth.
The second man, the main man, was John my husband of 28 years. He is a narcissist.
Unbelievably, I fell in love with the third man just this last July, Rick. We had known each other since we were teenagers. He popped up into my life and manipulated me to such a degree even the likes of John and the other guy had never seen.
When the lies were revealed to me I deleted all his texts, photos, etc. He has only tried to reach me once the next morning and haven’t heard from him since. There is so much more to this story than the few sentences I have written. I am so upset by his betrayal that I’m not even able to write about it fully.
My therapist warned me to go slowly. I honestly tried. At first I thought I was. I think my perception of slow is different from other people’s. It must have something to do with a lifetime of running my four-day ultra-rapid cycling pattern.
I was going slow for me.
In addition to the hate for Rick, and all the lies he told, I feel used. I feel violated. I know that word it tossed around and has made us all insensitive to it, but I was in every sense of the word. The situation this man caused was so horrible it made me miss John. The night that the bottom fell out of this short relationship I stacked up my pillows in bed and tried to hug them like they were John. That is so sad I’m tearing up remembering it.
For all the trash I talk about John, I miss him. He always protected me. Half the time he was what I needed protection from, but that’s how I felt even though it might not have been true. It’s normal to still miss him. I have a crazy unrealistic healing time schedule in my mind.
The advice I’ve been given is to feel what I’m feeling. It doesn’t mean I want him back. I’ve cried on and off since last Monday. I don’t even seem to be able to hold tears back even when I want to. I cry because I miss John, I cry because Rick broke my heart. I cry because I’m lonely. I miss my oldest daughter and my son. I’m crying now. I’m just so sad.
I’ve got a long road. I thought I could make it shorter, but it doesn’t work that way.
I was feeling pretty strong against the ex-husband and his girlfriend yesterday morning.
He is trying to pass her off as his roommate. No one knows what I know about how they were sleeping together a full 6 months before I asked for the divorce. Even the children seem to have been fooled. I can’t say anything to anyone because when it is all said and done I’m taking the high road as usual (not willingly believe me). I Looking back at how outrageously (even for him) his behavior was during that time I believe I was manipulated (AGAIN) into asking for the divorce.
So I checked Facebook to see if I was truly able to handle it.
He was on her page with a selfie of themselves. Under the comments was a comment from my mother in law saying “Just a couple of kids!”
I was so angry, hurt and other things I can’t even name that I went into a horrible spiral of depression and anxiety. It was a pretty dark day.
I got up this morning and felt much better. I tested the memory of yesterday to see if they still held their sting and they did. Good news for me is not as painful. Then it dawned on me that checking Facebook was in essence breaking the No Contact rule! That is the real key to recovery and now I have to start all over again! I had 4 whole weeks under my belt.
I’ve been doing EMDR for a whole host of things in the last few months. When this woman moved into my old house with him I had to see my therapist twice a week for two weeks. I have sooooo much more work to do.
I hate him. I hate them. I haven’t really been able to enjoy any of my freedom from him because he’s still getting to me but on a higher and different level. When will this get better? When can I finally feel better?
Its just like you when you try every trick in the book to lose weight and it always comes back to diet and exercise. Time heals all wounds.
Blocking all of them and taking the Facebook app of my phone is a good measure as well.
Beware of him that is slow to anger; for when it is long coming, it is the stronger when comes, and the longer kept. Abused patience turns to fury.
I’ve got a mountain of laundry to do. The kitchen is a health hazard and my appearance has a lot to be desired. I think I’ve worn the same three outfits for the last two weeks. I cancelled my hair appointment and my legs are hairy. Allison needs her mother back and Tristan should be able to ask me how I’m doing without me turning into a crying mess. The dog hasn’t been walked, I haven’t gone to work in two weeks and my Christmas tree is still up.
I am still in shock, but isn’t it time to physically rise up and start participating in my life again?
Please excuse me if I my post is incoherent. I’m half-drunk with the wine I’ve been drinking since 10pm. I didn’t start out planning to get drunk. I was just trying to wait out my family in order to get some peace and quiet.
Oldest visiting daughter, Emily, went to bed at 10pm. Allison, the youngest, wanted to stay up until midnight. I let her stay up. Just as the ball dropped my husband came home!
After discussing the recent death of my mother, he wanted to know why there wasn’t a funeral. She didn’t want one.
He wanted to know why there wasn’t an obituary. She didn’t want one.
Why don’t I print up some photos and have them at the “Memorial”? She didn’t want that.
It’s hard enough trying to wrap my mind around what has happened in the last two weeks let alone try to experience it with someone who doesn’t understand the nuances and complications of my mother’s and my relationship.
It’s actually pretty simple to me, I loved her and I miss her already.
I’m stressed out and sad today. My youngest daughter is having behavioral problems above and beyond normal puberty mood swings. Remember I have already raised two older successful children, so I know the drama of the teenage years up close and personal.
My daughter has never been easy. Even as a toddler she was throwing tantrums and was hard to control. She went to testing and was in a special preschool program for such behaviors. It worked and we had some pretty good years for a while with only minor incidents along the way. I was not taking it for granted, I loved it. I was finally, even though intermittently, having a relationship with her.
Fast forward to twelve. Temper tantrums have resumed …. preteen style. New to the mix is lying and being sneaky. Yelling and swearing at me.
I’m so tired. Sad, I think today. I don’t usually cry, but it comes on unexpectedly lately. I’m not talking a sobbing session like earlier days in my life, but just a few quite tears.
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