Tag Archives: depression

Been there, done that, fucking recycling it apparently.

I know at least one article at some point in this wordpress has an article Ive already wrote, Im just too lazy/pissed off to actually find it.

Sometimes it doesn’t really bother me. Most times it just picks at me. Today it fucking just hauled off and pissed in my face, which is why I am here, writing about it again. And prolly coz people on FB will get all pissy and delete me for not being a sheep.

You know how (esp if youre white) you cant use the almighty “N” word. Don’t use retard, it hurts people. “Gay” isn’t for everyday use. Then why the FUCK is crazy?

I am SO fucking tired of seeing “My mommma’s crazy!” “Im so crazy!” “I’ll go crazy on you and get away with it.” and all the other stupid fucking variants. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You wanna know motherfucking crazy? Try losing your fucking life? Try killing yourself? Try losing everything youve worked for? Try losing everyone you ever cared about? Try never being able to hold a job? Try not being able to go places? Try being stared at every fucking day in stores? But HEHEHE its SO FUNNY to make shitty FB graphics and ACT ALL BADASS OH IM SO FUCKING CRAZY. Shut the fuck up! You dont know real fucking life altering “crazy” its not fucking CUTE or funny. You’re not gonna go beat some fuckers ass. Youre gonna sit behind your stupid computer screen on your stupid ass.

I’m so fucking tired of “crazy” getting a pass.

Just tired of being tired.

My body is alternating between actual tiredness and physcially being worn out, but awake. Id say I have mono (had it), Preg (cant be), thyroid (its fine currently), so I have no damn clue as to whats goin on. With it, I’m randomly crying/depressed, again all three to be suspected, and none of them actually being it. Ive had cotton mouth horrible for a few weeks, which is now causing me a hoarse cough. I got the flu vaccine against my better judgement, over 2 weeks ago, so I know I’m innoculated. (how bad did I kill that word, I dont even care…)

Tomorrow I wont have the car, but don’t have anywhere to go anyway. Debating calling my psychiatrist and putting off the appointment til next month, if hell call me in some elavil. If not, I’m gonna have to go.

I feel really secretive as of late but Im not so I don’t quite understand. My dreams are getting weird again and feeling all too real which is REALLY fucking with my day to day dealings. I feel wrong. How the fuck do you stop dreaming about shit?? Seriously!

Grass isn’t greener, it may be dead.

For years I was so hopped up on (prescription) pills I was pretty much on auto pilot. I felt dead. I used to beg my doctor to fix me, make me feel SOMETHING. I was cutting alot just so I would feel ANYTHING. Now? MAKE IT STOP.

I cry at everything. EVERYTHING. Im irritable. Im impatient. I feel, alright. TOO MUCH.

Isn’t there some kinda middle? Where I can watch a commercial and not cry? That would be awesome.

Miscalculation on med change.

When I decided to get off 150 Zoloft and change my 50 Elavil to 100, apparently I didn’t realize that I’m losing meds in that change. I went from 50+150=200 to 100. And I realize that all meds are a different number and maybe 100 Elavil IS equal to 150 and 50…I have no idea, chemistry was something I never into. All I know is its been two days since I’ve had any zoloft and I’m on the edge of tears for no reason. Numerous times. I’m thinking horrible thoughts from my OCD. I’d probably benefit from a klonopin but I hate having to take them even though they’re prescribed for at least 1-3 times every day I only use them about 1 time a month.

I go back into the psychiatrist and I’ll ask him when I go in if they’re “equal” or even remotely close. Due to how I feel, I’m guessing probably not. Thats three weeks from now, so I guess if it escalates Ill have my answer ahead of time.

I just keep thinking about death and what happens after death and panic from thinking about death. I think about sickness and how I dont want to leave my house because Im scared of getting sick, while having cabin fever in a huge way because of all this goddamn snow. My husbands been taking the car and leaving me here alone. I’ve been in a house with dogs for all these snowy weeks, sometimes hes home sometimes hes not. Ive barely saw anyone in these few weeks, today I saw more people than all of the time combined. Everything is back to making me cry at the drop of a hat. Or for no reason at all.

Im bored without being bored. I have nothing to do. Some people make the comment about how theyd “love” to be on disability and “do nothing” all day. No. It sucks. It’s sucked for the last 12 years I’ve been on it. You see no one, you do nothing. We just recently cancelled cable because it was something we didnt really use, but then after we cancelled it I realized I did watch it more than I originally thought. I still have netflix and hulu plus, which keep me occupied, at least. We have the internet still. I stopped playing WoW to save money…and now I want to get it back, but we’re saving for a vacation this summer so I feel guilty. I have art projects, or video projects I could be doing but at the same time I’m too tired to do them. Nothing makes sense. I want to do something but then Im tired to do it. Anyway…

Yes what I’m about to say is petty, and I really DGAF.

Although half of it deals with facebook, I’ll write it here because no one will bother to read it that I’m talking about. Note: only half is about facebook, before I go on. Somethings been bothering me about people for about three years and its two things, and they are stupid and petty, and that’s why its taken me three years to actually say something about it. But it’s built to a point and you know once the straw breaks, its done.

1. Facebook: Somehow I always read about these great adventures of friends where they tag who they were with. That’s not the problem. Kudos for them for living life. My problem (while stupid and petty, again, I already know this) is that whenever *me* and a person (and again, generalizing as this has happened with more people than I care to mention or count) do anything at all, nothing is ever said. I’m really beginning to feel like that person who people are friends with as long as their other friends don’t know. Like, it’s ok to be my friend, just don’t talk about it. This is happening more and more WITH more and more. I’m worried about even tagging people any more–what if one of their friends sees? (sarcasm). Don’t get me wrong. I almost never get out of the house. I almost never do anything with anyone, so obviously the times I do go out, I notice. I hear about stupid mundane days spent with other people….don’t I get to be stupid and mundane? (No, obviously just stupid and petty…) I’m just really sick and damn tired of never being mentioned. Ever. It’s like, objectifying my whole existence. I’m really beginning to feel like whats the point?

2. Not facebook: You ever been with a friend and they get a call? Of course. But lemme tell you how it plays out in my world:

  1. They answer the phone. Someone asks what theyre doing. They answer “nothing, you?” I’m apparently nothing. Thanks. Then, to add insult to injury, they stay on the phone. Well, thanks. You’re AWESOME company.
  2. You call them while they’re with a friend. You get “OH _____ IS HERE/ON THE OTHER LINE CAN I CALL YOU BACK?!” Yeah, that woulda been nice when you were with ME and THEY called but apparently thats only a one way street, got it.
  3. Person gets a text. They proceed to have lengthy conversation with person while hanging out with me.
  4. I text a person. It may or may not get answered next Tuesday.

Call it whatever you want. Hell, just reading it I can see how it sounds. But Jesus Fucking Christ I am SO fucking tired of being number 2, 3, 5, 17, 100 when I go above and beyond for people all the time. Not only am I not appreciated but jesus…. whatever, I got this out thats all that matters.

I’m Still Here

This song is very fitting to my life usually, but more so recently. I added this version because I took the time to make it almost 2 years ago. I was going to just put a lyric video, but I’m putting the lyrics after the video anyway. In case anyone don’t know the video, it’s from LOST.

I am a question to the world,
Not an answer to be heard
Or a moment that’s held in your arms.
And what do you think you’d ever say?
I won’t listen anyway…
You don’t know me,
And I’ll never be what you want me to be.

And what do you think you’d understand?
I’m a boy, no, I’m a man..
You can’t take me and throw me away.
And how can you learn what’s never shown?
Yeah, you stand here on your own.
They don’t know me ’cause I’m not here.

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don’t feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change?
They’re the ones that stay the same.
They don’t know me,
‘Cause I’m not here.

And you see the things they never see
All you wanted, I could be
Now you know me, and I’m not afraid
And I wanna tell you who I am
Can you help me be a man?
They can’t break me
As long as I know who I am

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don’t feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change?
They’re the ones that stay the same.
They can’t see me,
But I’m still here.

They can’t tell me who to be,
‘Cause I’m not what they see.
Yeah, the world is still sleepin’,
While I keep on dreamin’ for me.
And their words are just whispers
And lies that I’ll never believe.

And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don’t feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can they say I never change?
They’re the ones that stay the same.
I’m the one now,
‘Cause I’m still here.

I’m the one,
‘Cause I’m still here.

-Goo Goo Dolls “I’m Still Here”

Side effects to cutting.

I’ve been a cutter since I was 17 years old. At that time, I would cut no less than three times a day, every day. I carried a safety pin around and did it in public restrooms. You’d be surprised how much damage something so small can do.

As with any cutter, it progressed a few years back to knives. Steak knifes, with serated edges, because that’s always what I seemed to pick up. I have 2 scars from the last two incidents with them, and it’s the last episode that prompts me to write this.

I cut my arm, badly. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until several minutes and much blood later. It finally stopped and eventually, even though it was ugly to look at, started to attempt to heal.

A few weeks afterwards, I noticed my right breast was inflammed. I immediately went to the doctor, scared of Inflammatory Breast Disease. We discovered it was strangely a case of mastitis…strange because I haven’t ever had children, when it’s more common. Of course you can get it when you don’t have children, but it’s much more rare…and as an added “bonus” it puts you at an 11% chance of “regular” breast cancer for the next year. (Which I have been being routinely checked for since it happened, and I’m almost in the clear.) We chalked it up to me wearing too tight of sports bra. But I was treated for MRSA, in case. He looked at my arm (which still was ugly, and open, after that time.) and told me that when you cut yourself, bacteria can travel. It could have landed there, causing the irritation in my breast. Because I caught it mere HOURS into it turning red (OCD can save your life!) it never hurt, or got much worse. I was put on the antibiotics, and routinely saw the doctor in intervals to make sure nothing was amiss.

The point of the story that I never really knew, even 14 years later, is that when you cut, you can cause infection…in places other than where you cut. Every now and then I would get my cuts inflammed or even infected, but I never thought of it traveling somewhere else in the body. I haven’t cut since that day in the doctor. That seriously scared the living hell out of me.

That isn’t to say I’m cured or that I’ll never do it again. I’m sure I will. It’s ‘in my blood’ (for a horrible pun). But I know to take extra care and precautions in the clean up process. Hopefully I won’t ever do it again. Once I abstained for a few YEARS. But it came back. But for all you cutters out there, read this and keep this in the back of your mind, that something very serious can happen from cutting.

Did this polar vortex blow depression in as well?

With the exception of a ten minute jaunt to BK last night, I have been in the house a week due to this weather. And I think I’m starting to go a little mad.

I’m an introvert in the most extreme way. Being alone is something that I actually like. I’m not good around people…never have been. Going out into public is sometimes a trying event. But something about being caged in this house is setting off all sorts of issues in me. I’m getting depressed, my OCD is going apeshit, anxiety is off the hook. I sit here day in day out with nothing but my animals because my husband has been working alot. My OCD is screaming at me this isn’t clean, that isn’t clean, GERMSGERMSGERMS but then I don’t have the energy to do anything about it. (and in reality, everything is clean, anyway.) Ive thought my house was being broke into for a few days now, when in reality its ice melting. (although that one night I really have no idea what was going on…)

I can’t up any of my pills. I’m maxed on zoloft. They won’t raise my elavil. (Being on two anti depressants is bad for bipolars coz it can make you go into mania if there are too many at once). And if I take any more risperdal, I’ll be so fat I’ll not be able to move. I’m on double-triple the dose I used to take, as it is. And the more I take, the more weight I gain. I’ve gained 50 lbs this year. And I feel like it needs to be raised sometimes, with the thoughts in my head, but I just cant bring myself to take anymore.

I hate that because I stay in mixed bipolar 1 that its so damn hard to medicate. Im up, Im down, all at the same time. How the hell you medicate that? You don’t. You just take pills and pray they dampen the shitty parts. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

I had pop for the first time in like three months yesterday. (Ive been giving it up, trying to lose weight…didn’t work this time so fuck it.) The large dose of caffiene kept me up an extra hour rehashing the last 15 years of my life, and all the fuck ups Ive had/done in that time. It was awesome. Dark room, unable to sleep, normally I cant remember anything, but suddenly, I remembered everything. And most of it, I didn’t want/need to remember.

And suddenly Im back to being emotional….how many pills can I take…I used to hate feeling numb, but I’m kinda tired of feeling.

Being chained to a pill dispenser

This summer I decided for the first time in 17 years I was going to not take pills. At all. Not even an anti depressant–the only thing Ive been on non stop for 17 years. It took about 1.5-2 months before not only was I depressed, I was in a depression psychosis. Since that little set back, I got put back on pills…more than I was taking before, and I’ve taken them faithfully every single day for over three months. And they worked. They worked well. Then they didn’t work so great anymore.

I was irritated easily. I was depressed. I didn’t want to do anything or go anywhere. So, against my psychiatrists better judgement, (he only likes to “up” one pill at a time, for obvious reasons, but I know what I’m doing, I’ve done it 17 years) he ups my Zoloft (now I think I’m at max theraputic dose) and doubles my risperdal. He only wanted to do the risperdal, but I reminded him about this summer and how fast I sink. And this is going to be one hell of a winter, I can already tell. In the meantime, I gain 8 lbs in two months, so my family doctor decides to put me (back) on topamax (on a tiny dose, 25. I was on over 400 a day before, and didn’t lose any weight.)

They also three months ago made me get on birth control to help tame my overreacting hormones and my nonreacting menses. So at that point, I’m on BC, levoxyl for hypothyroid, elavil for fibromyalgia (which is ALSO an antidepressant), zoloft for depression, risperdal for psychosis, topamax for weight loss. I come back to the doctor, and managed (after changing my diet, not drinking any pop, drinking tons of water, and being on this topamax) to gain 4 more lbs. So off of topamax, and back on metformin for insulin resistance.

I’m sitting here watching the clock, its about 45 mins until I take my pills for the day. I haven’t missed one dose since I’ve been back on the pills. But now, with doubled risperdal, and my body getting used to the upped zoloft (which shouldn’t make me tired) and the metformin, I’m SO damn tired. I used to only take .25, I’m up to 2. Hardly a maxed dose, but the most I’ve been on ever, plus all the other meds, plus even though I’m on max zoloft, and also elavil, I still am depressed, and still don’t want to do anything. At this point I’m beginning to wonder if I have ANY serotonin in my body AT ALL. I’ve been maxed out on zoloft and luvox both, until it wrecked my liver (or kidneys, I cant remember which organ luvox effects.)

I can’t really complain, I used to take 15 a day. Everytime something was off, they just would double everything I was on and hope it worked. All that happened was me being doped to the gills not having a damn clue about anything, nor can I remember 2000-2004. I have a vague rememberance of part of 2003. But regardless, I’ve been on a lot of pills since I was 17. I hate relying on them to be “normal”. Without them, I’d most likely end up staying in a mental facility. I feel really bad for people who take more than I do just to stay alive. I wonder how they feel. Are they grateful for the pills, or are they mad at them for being their lifesource?

I’m not real sure what the point of this post was when I started writing it. Probably to bitch and moan about having to be chained to a pill bottle to function. There’s alot of other things I’d like to write about, but until I can really sort my feelings out about the topics, I can’t really write about them. Holiday season sucks. Especially for mentally ill people. Especially for me.

July was a very, very bad month.

I was just reading backwards on this site, and July–I wonder how I lived through it. I want to put on the record what has happened between that mindset, and now.

Soon after the tirading posts about being worthless and a burden, I started “seeing” things. They weren’t “there” but I knew they were there. I saw them in my mind. My house was being overrun by these weird demon people. I spent nights up with insence trying to rid my house of these problems. I went to my psychiatrist, at this point, I had not been on ANY medication for almost 2 months. Since I have been diagnosed I have never, ever, not been on AT LEAST an antidepressant. The past 14 years, I have ALWAYS been medicated.

At the point, I literally stopped taking EVERYTHING for two months. When my mom or husband asked me if I took my medicine, I just kinda mumbled and nodded or changed the subject. I didn’t want to lie and say I took it, so when I was pressed, I would just say “I’ve missed a few doses, I’m going to be more careful”, and it would be dropped after more conversation.  I was tired of relying on pills to make me “normal”. Its degrading and I was so sick of it.

I went into a depression psychosis. I went into my doctor, and had an absolute melt down in the office. I was told I was going to have to have an in home visiting nurse to monitor me. I was going to have to go back on anti psychotics, and possible other pills that we would add gradually. I had never had a depressive episode in summer. Summer was the time for mania. For spending and speeding, and whatever else I could get my hands into. Maybe it was our lack of funds, my inability to spend or speed, that did it. There was alot of stress, building stress from a few years ago. It was coming to a head and I couldn’t deal anymore.

My hormones at that point were a complete disaster. I was tested (again, the first time at 23!) to see if I was going through menopause. I was not. I was put on pills to fix the issue, between hormone issues, and psychiatric issues, and stress issues, they really wanted me medicated. And I had not been any kind of medicated for 2 months.

Getting back in the swing of taking pills was easier, only due to the birth control that you have to take or it fucks up. That honestly (due to my fear of puking) is the only reason I have managed to take my pills, every day, since I was put back on them. (Last time I was on birth control, I missed one, in 2002, and doubled up, and spent the next day puking my guts out.) The demons are gone, (though every now and then I think they might check up on me) stress is somewhat lifted. I still feel like I’m being watched and there are people around me I can’t see, but I’ve always felt that way. Me and my husband chose to take care of some things in life that were really bothering us. Maybe one day I’ll talk about it. Today is not that day. Stress has gone down alot. We are getting along alot better. Life is looking up.

For a month, I had to go to my moms on Mondays, to avoid him on his day to go back to work. We would get in horrible arguments where he would (for the third/fourth time) mention divorce, during these days. I couldn’t handle the stress and pain this was causing so I would sleep at my moms on Mondays for about 4-6 weeks. With one tiny minor slip up, I have been able to return home on Mondays. We get along so much better its almost scary. We don’t fight alot any more. We’re even  more honest than we were before. I’m not as folded into myself. For a long time, I just wanted to be left alone. In every way possible. My depression had just bottomed out. I have never went into psychosis from depression. That was a huge wake up call to me. I knew I needed medication. I have stayed on it, and feel better. I just worry for the day my brain rationalizes that “Im better” and I dont need it anymore. God help me when that happens.