meh. \shrugs\

I locked the door behind me as I was leaving for work yesterday morning.  a thought flashed through my mind: “I should quit my job today.”

I didn’t.
and I won’t.

but I wanted to.  not for any of the reasons I’ve ever left a job before — which is almost always that the job is slowly killing me on the inside.  instead, I wanted to quit because I just wanted to quit everything.

I had stayed home Tuesday due to have fell ill over the weekend.  I slept all. day. long.  and Wednesday morning, I wondered why I wasn’t doing that everyday.

it’s been a while since I’ve just wanted to Quit.  like, not necessarily or specifically Life itself.  but just Everything.  (recent months, it’s been wanting to very precisely Quit Life.)  but as of the last few days?, weeks?, it’s been just wanting to casually say, “okay, that was fun.  but I’m done now.”

like when you’re playing a game, and you’re just done playing.  time to stop.  nothing drastic like taking your ball home.  nothing like forfeiting the play.  just, time to stop playing.  no remorse, no regret, just Quittin’ time.

part of me is very apathetic about my family coming up here in June.  (another part is OMG, super stoked!)  a large portion of me just doesn’t really care about anything.

will I be fit and prepared for the Tough Mudder?  meh.
will I do something fun this weekend?  meh.
will I enjoy reading my books the next time I pick them up?  meh.
will I eat anything today?  meh.
I just don’t really care about anything.

nothing seems important or matterful.  things are neither easy nor difficult, good nor bad.  I just don’t care.

I’m not sure if this is an improvement or just a side step from crippling depression.  the jury is still out on this one.

medication, relationships, and disassociations

oops.  so I’ve managed to not take my morning medications almost every day this week (my most important meds are my morning ones, of course).  also, I’ve forgotten my evening meds numerous times in the last two weeks.  however, I’ve been fairly good about my mid-day meds — naturally, because those are the least important of the three.  ~sighs~

I’ve been totally exhausted lately.  like, before my screwing up the taking of my meds.  that’s actually what led to my forgetting to take them.  over the weekend, I just got really, really tired.  then Monday morning, I sleep in until I absolutely have to wake up for work, and I forget to dope myself up while I rush getting ready.  and it just happens like that every morning for the rest of the week.  today included.

Brian called me while I was on my way to work because he noticed I forgot my meds.  I’d be late if I had turned around though.  and I just also didn’t give a fuck about going back to take them.  “it’s not like they’re doing much good anyway”, half-sleepy me told myself as I steered with one knee, guzzled an energy drink with one hand, and shoved eggs into my mouth with the other hand.  (the second knee was attached to the foot reserved for the gas and brake pedals.  I have to get creative whenever I need each a hand and a foot/knee/leg for the shifting and powering the clutch.)  so I just thanked him, and kept going away from home.

I’ve been frustrated with him for a day or so now.  he did tiny thing A that is a big thing to me, and I noticed I had an emotional response about it.  I did my best not to have an emotional reaction, and I only kinda succeeded.  but then I beat myself up for having emotions at all.  I typically get very angry at myself when and because I’m angry at him.  and of course, during all this, I don’t tell him shit, because I don’t want him to start feeling bad about having peeved me off.  but he inquired this morning, and I was just like, “let’s talk about this when I’m not running late for work, okay?”

second thing I really wanted to discuss here (venting about Brian kinda snuck in here, lol) is my disassociation qualities returning.  I’m getting “that feeling” again wherein I’m not Me.  I’m multiple peoples living in a single body, so take turns sharing the physical cage.  I “see” myself doing and saying things.  I’m over-analyzing my actions in a very particular way — not so much “objective” as it is disjointed and disconnected.

maybe it’s the lack of medication in my system.  maybe it’s the two energy drinks a day I take just to stay awake.  maybe it’s whatever started making me so tired over the weekend.

maybe it’s finally time for a Cycle change, and I’m going to go into a mania soon.  that would be a nice change of pace.  I haven’t had a proper (hypo-)mania in a while.  though I doubt it, given all the additional sleep I’ve been needing.

one thing I’m going to discuss at therapy is how I’m so Tired.  like, when she or my psychiatrist ask me about how this is going or what I feel about that, I just wanna look at them and say, “I don’t know. I’m too Tired to think about an analyze it.”  an me being too tired to analyze something — not a good sign.

I suppose that’s all for now.  I’m just really off kilter.  and because I don’t know the cause, I can’t even pretend to come up with a solution.

on how depression applies to my current job

I am finally reading posts again. it’s made not crying on my commutes more doable.

to an entry of someone whose writings I admire greatly, I commeneted as follows:

one thing my various doctors and therapists always told me was how with mental disorders, what something is now is how it seems to have always and will always be. for example, then in a manic phase, things seem great and you feel like you could take on the world — and you can take it on tomorrow too, and the next day, and the next … and even months from now, you’ve got this shit in the bed and will never have a sub-par day again. the “sick mind”, as we and it are sometimes called, struggles to separate now from forever. this is the same on the depression front too. and it all really sucks ass.

I would love to take my own advice here, but I think it’s unrelated to my work concerns. I know that eventually I will get the hang of it, and I may even eventually prove to be really badass at it. but it’s legitimately the “right now” about which I’m concerned.

I feel as if I have so few Spoons these days (see Christine Miserandio’s “The Spoon Theory”). I do’t have enough to ensure this shit day after day, and still try to function on top of that. I even told a friend last night how coming home and crying for an hour or so after work (as I have been doing) is generally helpful im the emotional sense, but it requires much more Spoons than just cutting would. sure, it allowa me well enough to move on with life lethargicly that evening. but the next moening, I am still drained and hopeless. just getting out of bed costs Spoons that I will need on the job.

and as I told Brian last night,this is a special kind of self-hatred that I have by the end of each day. this is the kind the occurs because you’ve let people down. it’s one thing, for example, when you are going to fail a class because you suck at something. but when I was teaching, the notion of letting all those students down was devestating. similarly, I am going to end up destroying this law firm’s books. they don’t deserve that; and I can’t help but feel that I deserve this employment chance.

a2z: Hopelessness

April 2015’s Blogging A to Z:
Hopelessness

 

I’m a pessimist.  I don’t mean that so much in I see bad and horrible things all around me.  on the contrary, I go out of my way to try to both find and create goodness.  I admire the small child bouncing through the puddles in a parking lot; I smile at complete strangers who are humming to themselves; I extend warm thank-yous to those who hold the door open for me.  but I am a pessimist.  I assume that horrible, terrible things are what are most likely.  not always promised, just likely.

this pessimism increases the strength of my depression.  and my depression, especially when unmedicated, breeds hopelessness.  I no longer merely predict things will turn out poorly; I now expect them to.  and I expect them to turn out horribly with such sureness that I am surprised and in disbelief when it doesn’t.  but before we get to that point, while are still waiting the demise of justice or happiness, I become hopeless.

I become so hopeless, I don’t even want to want the good anymore.  the hopelessness yields this sense of despair and void, an emptiness that strips me of all effort and care and love and desire.

and that’s where I’m at these days.  it’s a numb pain; it’s like the throbbing of a wasp sting after the venom has passed.  you know it should hurt more; but you don’t care, because the poison’s already in your system.

in many of the scholarly pieces I’ve read over the years, it seems depression precedes hopelessness.  many with depression will just mull in their sorrows; it’s not until they reach a point of actual hopelessness and true despair that they ever take any actions to either A] get better or B] get gone.  in many of my research on my more morbid interests, Dr. Aaron Beck’s work reappears.  as per this topic, I can bring up the Beck Hopelessness Scale.  it was created back in 1974, so the assessment is very simple.  but if one is being honest with himself, he’ll see if he’s in line for a path of trouble, or just having a rough ride.

for shit’n’giggles, let’s take it right now:

  1. I look forward to the future with hope and enthusiasm.:  false; I am fearful.
  2. I might as well give up, because there’s nothing I can do to make things better for myself.:  false; I could run away and start a new life somewhere else.
  3. when things are going badly, I am helped by knowing that they can’t stay that way forever.:  false; even if they were to get better, they would only grow worse all over again.
  4. I can’t imagine what my life would be like in ten years.:  true; I’m struggling with more than ten weeks from now.
  5. I have enough time to accomplish the things I most want to do.:  false; I feel overwhelmed, which causes a lack of productivity, which yields a sense of additional overwhelmation (can “overwhelm” be a noun?).
  6. in the future, I expect to success in what concerns me most.:  false; I will never return to grad school, and I will never get published.
  7. my future seems dark to me.:  true; it looks like hell.
  8. I happen to particularly lucky, and I expect to get more of the good things in life than the average person.:  true; I am actually very lucky, all things considered.
  9. I just don’t get the breaks, and there’s no reason to believe that I will in the future.:  true; conversely, I’m also very unlucky; things are rarely just “normal” for me.
  10. my past experiences have prepared me well for my future.:  false; I have no idea how to be an adult or responsible without special treatment.
  11. all I can see ahead of me is unpleasantness, rather than pleasantness.:  false; I expect some of both; though I predict more of the former.
  12. I don’t expect to get what I really want.:  true; but largely because I don’t even know what that is anymore.
  13. when I look ahead to the future, I expect I will be happier than I am now.:  false; I honestly dodoubt it.
  14. things just won’t work out the way I want them to.:  true; though more accurately, things tend to not go as I prepared.
  15. I have great faith in the future.:  false; I have faith in very little.
  16. I never get what I want, so it’s foolish to want anything.:  true; though I think this more about ever being happy.
  17. it is very unlikely that I will get any real satisfaction in the future.:  true; I will always be miserable, even with all my numerous blessings.
  18. the future seems vague and uncertain to me.:  true; 100%.
  19. I can look forward to more good times than bad times.:  false; not at all.
  20. there’s no use in really trying to get something I want, because I probably won’t get it.:  false; I often get what I want — except peace.

scoring is one point per “negative” response (and these statements make it rather clear in which direction “negative” is, lol), though an actual key is provided to the staff member.  scores 0 to 3 suggests no issues; 4 to 8 denotes mild hopelessness, but nothing alarming; 9 to 14 suggests moderate hopelessness, and the staff member is to recommend treatment; a score of over 15 suggests the individual is a suicide risk.

so let’s add me up: 1+0+1+1+1+1+1+0+1+1+0+1+1+1+0+1+1+1+1+0 = 15.  okay, that’s disgustingly coincidental.  I was hoping for a 13 or something.  you know, something to suggest I hadn’t given up yet, but was close, lol.

and again, this is an slightly antiqued and incredibly over-simplified approach to determining one’s level of hopelessness.

besides, if we’re actually hopeless, we don’t need a test to tell us so.  it’s something you feel in your core, deep into your bones.

 

Hopelessness

World Bipolar Day 2015 (…was yesterday, oops!)

as with most things, I’m somewhat late to celebrate.  yesterday was World Bipolar Day (WBD).  they self-describe the event’s intent as “bring[ing] world awareness to bipolar disorders and to eliminat[ing] social stigma”.  I wanted to do some of the events and stuff they promoted (like added words that describe something about you other than your disorder on a photo of yourself, then share it on your social networks with the appropriate hashtags), but I never managed it.  bleh.

instead, I’ll drop off some links about WPD, and do a quick questionnaire.

Why a World Bipolar Day?” from Huffington Post: “Mental illnesses have historically been misunderstood, feared and therefore stigmatized.  The stigma is due to a lack of education, mis-education, false information, ignorance, or a need to feel superior.  […]  Like most groups who are stigmatized against, there are many myths surrounding mental illness.  Enter WBD.”

World Bipolar Day 2015” from Being Beautifully Bipolar:  “Bipolar disorder has ruined a lot of good things in my life and I guess I should be resentful.  But it has also taught me about real love and forgiveness and for that I am grateful.”

Bipolar Disorder: World Bipolar Day Sets Out to Inform, Break Barriers and Stigmas Attached to Mental Illness, Organizers Say” via HNGN:  ” ‘As Martin Luther King once said, I have a dream that one day our nations will rise up and create all men equal,’ wrote Muffy Walker, [founder and president of International Bipolar Foundation].  ‘And I have a dream that my son, who has lived most of his life with bipolar disorder, will one day live in a nation where he will not be judged by his illness, but rather by the content of his character.  I believe that World Bipolar Day will help bring my dream to fruition.’ ”

World Bipolar Day, March 30, 2015” from bpnurse:  “For my part, I’m proud that people with this disorder are finally talking about it instead of hiding in a closet. Much of what our society believes about bipolar is wrong, and those of us with lived experience are the best source of information; but putting ourselves out there can still be risky for us due to discrimination in employment, loss of friendships and changes in our social status.”

 

and now, I’m snagging yet something else from the lovely blahpolar diaries: a bipolar questionnaire.

World Bipolar Day Questionnaire

1. What does “bipolar disorder” mean to you?
it’s an explanation for my inabiality to find and maintain balance or consistency.  I’ve always been an extremist in most everything.  knowing that this is not just my having less self-control or will-power, but is instead a result of mis-wiring in my brain — I can hate myself a little less.  that doesn’t get me off the hook; that doesn’t mean I don’t have to continue struggling to live appropriately.  rather, it means I better know how to find assistance in and how to approach management of this problem.

2. What was your life like before you were diagnosed with bipolar disorder?
like most who are eventually noted as bipolar, I was initially diagnosed with major (or unipolar) depression.  so I was prescribed mainly anti-depressants.  however, that only controlled one end of extremes.  I was pretty competent at hiding my more reckless behaviors from the parental units; however, I know the things I did and the risks I took, and I thought I was just fearless.  instead, it was because I was legitimately mental unstable and, in some cases, actually insane at the time.

3. How old were you when you were diagnosed?
sometime in June 2010, I think.  at least, that’s what my “Medical History” document tells me; and it has a better memory for details than I do, lol.

4. How do you manage your symptoms?
medication is my first go-to.  but I know therapy also worked in the past.  having my partner or close friends assist in monitoring me is an excellent way for me to have an external and somewhat objective interpretation of my behaviour, too.

5. What is life like for you now?
heh.  well, back when I was on medication, it was … better.  I was less manic and less depressed; my lows weren’t as low nor my highs as high, but they were still there.
currently, not being on meds — it’s getting bad.  I’m in a mixed state (watered-down details here and here).  as I’ve stated in a previous entry, this is one of the most dangerous places for a bipolar bloke or lass to be in — we’re still miserable and hopeless and depressed, but we’ve got the energy to do something about it; and because we’ve got that mania still in us, whatever we do is gonna be fucking drastic as hell.

6. Has having bipolar disorder affected your friendships, personal life, or professional life?
omg, yes.  when I’m hypomanic and not medicated, I do all kinds of sort I regret.  and I’m not even really aware of it at the time.  I, uh, I’m not really gonna share the details, because I have IRL people who read this shit.  but just know, it gets pretty fucking bad.
but even when medicated, it’s still difficult.  I make all kinds of promises and plans.  then in a few weeks or months when my depression kicks back in, I’m royally fucked — I don’t have the energy to fulfill these commitments; so I’m either disappointing someone, failing at something, or otherwise having to abandon something else more important to honor a previously made though less important agreement.

7. How do you think society treats people with a mental illness, especially bipolar disorder?
I’m honestly incredibly blessed.  when people learn that I’ve got mental disorder X (OCD, anxiety, bipolar, whatever), they often don’t believe me.  I guess that’s because I’m so damn good at pretending I’ve got all my shit together.
however, that means when I’m suffering or struggling really terribly, it’s difficult to reach out.  I’ve never really let on how bad it gets, so I scare people when I finally actually open up to them.  it’s happened several times during my life; so I now just avoid opening up at all.  (that’s why this blog is so great — you don’t like what I’m saying?, then stop fucking reading.  easy as that!)

8. Have you ever felt discriminated against or looked poorly on because of bipolar disorder?
thankfully, no.  but again, I believe that’s because I can hide my Crazies so that it seems like I “have bipolar” just as how an anal-retentive person will say he “has OCD”.

 

9. Do you have any words of advice for people in the world suffering with bipolar disorder or other mental illness?
you’re only as fucked as you let yourself be.  someone or something, somewhere, is willing to help.  sometimes it’s ass-hard to find that person or place.  but if you really do wanna get better or at least make it out okay, you just gotta look.  ::shrugs::

~REBLOGGED~ One Order of Darkness, Please!

beautiful piece on why sometimes we stay Ill.

my two favourite bits are quotes below:

Darkness is, in my attempt to explain, not the lack of light. It is not the lack of love or the lack of compassion but rather the lack of hope. Darkness in my mind is a simple place without much adornment that allows me to feel not just sad, not just depressed, but allows me to fall deep into my own internal soul and put the world far away. It is a place that gives me permission to not have all the answers and it is a place that gives me permission to not have to be what all those I love hope for me to be.

My darkness which makes bottle of pills very attractive also blocks out much of the world. There is no expectations in this darkness but rather the need to be nothing.

The Truth Ache

secretI will let you in on a secret. I will tell you a secret about myself that I don’t talk about, that I don’t think about, but live with. I am sorry to say it isn’t a dirty little secret nor will anyone be that astonished. It may not be understood by anyone, but it is my reality. And the secret is…I like the darkness.

Let me back up a couple of steps so that you can understand. There are important steps to know when coming not only to terms with your own mental illness but when you have teach others about the diseases. Trying to entertain while still teaching about a subject I know like the back of my brain without scaring my family (and husband) out of their wits is difficult. There are certain truths that you have to lightly touch on and others that you simply have…

View original post 1,359 more words

maybe we won’t make it out alright

:: TRIVIAL WARNING ::
in retrospect, this entry is all the fuck over the place.  sorry about that.
um, i’d love to give you a map or outline so you could follow along;
but i got lost in re-reading it for grammar and spelling errors m’self.
so yeah, that’s no-go.  :/  good luck on your own, though.

i’m getting really hopeless.  like, really hopeless.  as in i included the words “my wanting to die in the near future” in a recent email to my psychiatrist.  i’ve been off any “real” anti-depressants since November when Townsend took over my medication.  and i’ve been off even their stuff since mid-January.  i mean, i’m on the valproic acid, which is an anti-epileptic medication that many bipolar people take because it also stabilizes moods.  but that doesn’t actually improve my mood; it just means i’m fairly consistently depressed.

i’m getting lost in my Thoughts.  i get sick trying to figure out how people can just be okay with life, wondering why not everyone is suicidal.  i can’t fathom the idea that there exists people who aren’t hurting internally all the time, who aren’t falling apart completely.  i realise that many are wounded and just hide it well.  but those who talk of hope and send words of encouragement — from where do they get that?, from where does that come??  i am so far down that i literally cannot comprehend that some people do not suffer like this.

apparently thinking about killing oneself on a daily basis is not the norm.  apparently wanting to rip your skin apart or take pills until you pass out is not typical.  apparently the average person does not have to spend 15-45 minutes in the shower every morning talking themselves into enduring yet another day of living instead of committing suicide.

i honestly don’t get it.  i can’t understand.  it’s like asking a blind person to imagine the colour red.  wtf?

the amazing Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half created a post about her own struggles with depression (one of two that i reference and quote all too often).  at one point, she explained it as follows: “But trying to use willpower to overcome the apathetic sort of sadness that accompanies depression is like a person with no arms trying to punch themselves until their hands grow back.  A fundamental component of the plan is missing and it isn’t going to work.”  and it’s true.  the brain is what’s broken, and it’s the same tool that needs to be used to fix the problem.

by the shadows of the night, i go.
i move away from the crowded room,
that sea of shallow faces masked in warm regret.
they don’t know how to feel; they don’t know what is Lost.

things have gotten worse over the years.

i mean, other than having Brian and my cat, i’m in no better place than i was when i graduated college.  in 2008, i left UL a success.  i was popular, well-liked, had an incredibly high paying career (for someone of my age and experience), had my own apartment, etc.  within the next six months, i got Zero.  i love that furball.  in 2010, Brian and i started dating.  but we had been courting long before that.  he’s really enriched my life and has gotten me through some tough times.  i couldn’t have survived without him.

but every other aspect of my life has fallen apart.  i’m more in debt than ever (more hospital bills, student loan, credit card debt, two DUI debts to parents, etc).  every day, i’m learning there’s more about my body that’s falling apart — therein more doctors to see and more medications to take.

i’ve stopped writing.  i hardly read.  i’m just … i’m not Creating anything anymore.  that used to be my sole drive for waking up every day.  and now, i can’t even manage that much.

i’m still in Lafayette.  i’m still in fucking Louisiana.  i’m still in the south.  i mean, i love the south.  i’ll be a southern girl until i die.  but i feel like i won’t really understand what that means until i’m not in the fucking south anymore.  and nigh everyone who’s lived anywhere else says how different Lafayette is from the norm.  HOW?  i want to know more!  i’m getting fucking cabin fever in this damned city.  legit claustrophobia is going to set in soon.

gad, this is all shit i’ve bitched about a thousand times before.  like another fucking post is going to change anything.  this is ridiculous.  i just don’t know what else to do!

lost in the Darkness of a land
(where all the Hope that’s offered is)
Memories of being taken by the hand.
(and we are led into the sun)
but i don’t have a hold on what is Real.
(and we can only try)

what is there to Give or to Believe?

i’m getting so far Down into this, that i don’t think i want to get Better anymore.  because 1] it’s too fucking difficult and may not be worth the effort; and 2] i don’t think i deserve it anymore.  i mean, my psychiatrist doesn’t charge me for most of my visits and gives me as many free samples as he can.  my friends are the most supportive and loving people i know.  even coworkers and mere acquaintances offer their assistance and sympathy.  i’ve got a good job; i have a car (though no license); i have an apartment with someone who loves me incredibly; my cat is great; i’m learned and well spoken; i’ve got excellent work experience; my family would do anything for me; et cetera.  yet i keep fucking everything up.

i’m a selfish, whiny bitch.  i want the world to revolve — not around me, but — because of me.  i want to be the best at everything, yet i don’t want things to be so easy for me that i’ll be bored.  i want to overcome my flaws and weakness without having to endure the patience for it.

i don’t deserve to be Happy, to get Better, to have Hope.

i deserve this Pain and Suffering.  and i deserve to endure it all forever.

i want it all to go away; i want to be Alone.
Sympathy’s wasted on my hollow Shell.
i feel there’s nothing left to Fight for,
no reason for a Cause.
and i can’t hear Your voice,
and i can’t feel You near.

would you like to know how pathetic this is and i have actually become?  i am honestly to the point that i hope the sentencing goes very poorly and that i do, indeed, lose my job.  i hope that the medicine doesn’t work, that life doesn’t get better, and that everyone abandons me.  because i’m ready to fucking Leave this shit; but i worry that i’ll only do so after everything’s truly fallen apart.

how fucking selfish is that?

i wanted a Change,
knowing all i could do was Try.
i was looking for some[thing].

as of the 2009-2010 decade transition period, the suicide success rate was 1:33.  that’s not promising.  :/

lyrics courtesy of Sarah McLachlan’s “Lost”