Waiting for What I Know I Need

I have met with a fuck load of psychiatrists in my lifetime and each of these psychiatrists has met with a fuck load of patients. And so it has become routine for both of us. We both say the same script we have gotten used to.
But I am sick of this disease so fuckin much and I am determined to make this visit at Psych Facility Land worth it. I want to get the most out of everyone I meet with. I want this to be like the best speed dating ever, but with mental health professionals.
I met with the psychiatrist this morning and expressed what I needed with more insistence then I ever have before. I reiterated how frustrated I am at having this depression, how angry I am at myself, how much guilt I feel, how that anger and guilt turns to hurting myself and wanting to end my life.
I liked the Dr. I met with and he seems to want to make a lot of medication changes that seem like they would be helpful and make a lot of sense. He talked to me about DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy.) DBT is something I did before a few years ago and I told him I was interested and I had an appointment with someone for today but I cancelled it because I am here and I rescheduled it for her next appointment which was in a month.
He said that is typical that it would take a month to get an appointment and I got so fuckin annoyed and found it hilariously messed up.
“Isn’t it ridiculous that a Dr. who is best at working on suicidal thoughts has a month long waiting list?!”
This is like a joke my dad often repeats: “Suicidal Hotline. Can I put you on hold.”
The Dr. felt my frustration and said they would try to start help me here but the wait for DBT is so long because there are only so many DBT therapists. I can see my other therapist, of course, in between the DBT appointments and I will. But it just sucks to know exactly what you need and not be able to get it.
But I got sweet smiley socks, a computer, and a lot larger support system then most. So I’m lucky.

Fine Line

I haven’t drank soda (aka pop for my Midwestern cohorts) since Tuesday. For someone who usually drinks at least 24oz of diet Mt. Dew a day, this has been hard. I have also been eating more fruits, veggies, and nuts. More real food. I went to see a Dr. and get some guidance.

This is how depressed I am right now. How lost I feel. How much I want a solution: I was willing to change my diet. That’s pretty close to a miracle.

And so far I don’t hate it.

I am walking a fine line these day and it sucks. A line between staying here and not.

I think about Robin Williams a lot. His death has made me both consider suicide more and want to fight harder for it never to be an option for me. I see that not one good thing came from his premature exit and I want to fight that like hell and at the same time I am so sick of fighting, of feeling like depression will always be this huge presence in my life, of feeling like I will be defeated.

But I am committed to continue fighting and I am beyond fortunate to have a support system who encourages me to fight, who tells me what I don’t always want to hear, a system I’ve learned to trust.

This week I will venture into another in-patient program and I feel a bit of relief knowing I will have this supportive place to hopefully get the six different kinds of help I need right now.

If I could say anything to others struggling, it would be find a support system. People are there and they will respond. Be willing to make the first move. Nine out of ten times you will be rewarded.

Angry Parts

My long term goal: Be healthy.

My short term goal: Not hate myself for being sick.

I am bad about this. Logically, I get that there is no reason to be mad at myself for having depression but sometimes I am not good at holding to this. Depression feels like something you should be able to beat or at least deal with it less often than I have been. I get that depression is not a sign of weakness. I get that it is chemicals and other stuff and that it is a disease. I get that. I’m just not great at sticking to it.

I don’t think there is some virtue in giving yourself a hard time for being depressed. In fact, I think being mad at my self undermines how this is a disease, not a state of being, and that’s not a good thing.

So why can’t I let the anger and frustration at myself go? I don’t know. All I can say is it feels like I should be well and part of me thinks it’s my fault I’m not. And part of me is mad at that part for being that way. Like a centerfold, I just need to get all my parts on the same page.

Brain Fart

I decided to take a break from ECT. It hasn’t really been helping this time and it has caused lots of problems. The memory loss part is giving me a really hard time. It’s more than memory. My ability to think and write has been affected. I believe this is all short term and will be back to normal soon. Right now, it’s a pain in the fuckin ass. It feels like I have had the world’s biggest brain fart.

I love writing. Even when I feel like shit, I can find joy in writing. Now, not so much. It’s kind of sucks because besides getting paid to write, I also find writing therapeutic. And right now, I could use some therapy.

I am struggling right now and I am spending a lot of time reaching out, trying to find what will help. I think people sometimes think depressed people want to see the sad side of life but that’s not it at all. It chemical shit. Something is not working right in my brain and if I could, I would force it into the joy zone so quick.

But while I get to be proactive, I don’t get full say in the timetable. So I shall just keep going and look forward to my writing voice coming back so this is more enjoyable to read.

Forget It

I’m struggling and I hate it. I hate that my moods are out of wack, that I feel so low, that the depression is back.

And the thing I hate most about the depression?

Feeling like a failure just for having it.

Logically I know that is not true, but much of me feels that way. And now I’ve added in ECT too, which means memory loss.

The memory loss is frustrating because, like depression itself, it slows me down, makes me more reliant on others, makes me feel like a fuckin moron.

Going into work and not remembering what I’ve done, who I’ve e-mailed, what programs we use,…fuckin moron.

So tonight I came home and took notes on my day in hopes I will be less reliant on others when I go back on Tuesday.

Now to just remember where I put the notes.

 

 

17 things

I am struggling. Again. I think this is the thing about depression (and there are about 17 “the things” about depression, “the things” being what makes depression different. But honestly it might not be different, it is just what I have.)

But back to the thing: I struggled with depression. I made it through. I knew I wasn’t done for life but I didn’t think it was going to be this tense this soon. I’m back to three ECT treatments/week and they are taking their toll on my brain, my life, my day to day.

I am a lucky person. I get that. I so unbelievably fuckin get that. Really. I do. I am reminded on a daily basis how lucky I am and I love that.
And because I am so lucky I feel bad complaining, but right now, stuff is hard and I wish that would change. I get that’s not how it works but I just need to say it: Right now sucks and I want the disease to get better ASAP.

Ok, I’ll let the universe do what it does and I’ll just keep doing what I do best: Working on getting better (while also complaining a little,) reaching out to people, and making references to 80s/90s TV.

Liar of a Disease

I used to be able to separate what this disease makes me feel and what I actually feel but it is getting harder. Maybe the depression is just becoming a better liar. Maybe depression’s pants are so on fire, and I just can’t see it as easily.

It’s easy to believe what depression says, that I am whiny and self-absorbed, that if I wanted to, I could be better, that the depression is still around because I’m not working hard enough.

Depression is like one of those dick husbands in an old school Lifetime Movie and I guess I just need to get all Nancy McKeon on its ass. I swear I’m trying but it’s getting to me. A lot.

I’m fighting the illness and also the side effect of the illness, the one which makes you doubt any strength you have, the one which tells you, you’re not worth the fight.

I just have to keep remembering that voice’s pants are on fire.

Something Else Please

I am suffering right now. I don’t know that I have ever said that sentence, it sounds whiny, but it is how I feel. I feel in pain. The pain makes me angry. Angry at myself. It doesn’t make sense, but then it so does.

I know that I am working hard to get better, to manage this disease, logically I know that, but deep down I don’t believe it.

I blame myself for feeling this way and logically I get why that is untrue and harmful, but I do it. I am trying not to. A lot. But I am doing it. A lot.

I wish there was a way to handle the up and down of getting healthy without getting knocked around so much.

I want to enjoy feeling better without getting attached to it, in case it fades.

I want to not need others in the way I do.

I want to be for myself who I hope I would be for someone else.

I am struggling and I want to find a way to get through.

If this website had helped you, and you want to show thanks and support, donate here:

Small Donate Button