The pit of despair

Today I find myself back in the pit of despair. I found out that a friend of mine died from her eating disorder. Everything seems so pointless. Everything feels too overwhelming. I want to hide and never be found.

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The best news, the best timing

I just got wonderful news! If you’ve been around a while, you may remember that a few months back I applied to volunteer at the local children’s hospital. Today I was notified they need people to go and rock their “medically fragile” babies! I have an interview on Monday to be a volunteer. I’m so excited! This is exactly what I needed. This is the perfect timing. I have something bright to look forward to. I feel happy for the first time in a week. I hope, so hope, that they let me volunteer holding the babies.

Distraught

The last few days I’ve been distraught. Inconsolable. I am struggling so hard just to keep from cutting. I’ve been just crying and binging and purging and playing video games and watching the Olympics I missed while I was in California. I don’t see my psychiatrist or therapist until next week. I’m struggling just to get through the days. I keep feeling like I made the wrong decision. Today, I took a nap and I received a text message. It woke me up and at first I thought it was him. My heart leapt with joy, only to crash a moment later when I saw it wasn’t him. He hasn’t tried to reach out to me at all since I left and I feel like it means there must be something wrong with me. Or what if I really hurt him by leaving? Or both.

At random moments throughout the day things will remind me of it, and it hurts so much. My facebook feed is still filled with ads congratulating me on my engagement and offering me money of tuxes or photography packages. It feels weird not to have his ring on my finger, and the noticeable absence makes me cry. I just want it all to end. I want to sleep and not wake up. I wish school would start already so I had something productive to focus on.

LoveMe Challenge, Day 21

Day #21: Something you are proud of.

I was originally going to say my family, but then I realized I probably am supposed to say something about myself.

So, what am I proud of? For a while I thought “nothing,” but then I realized I am proud of myself for pushing myself when I don’t want to, which I do all the time. For wearing pant when it’s hard. For agreeing to to a year-long DBT program when it scares me. For going out with friends when my anxiety tells me to stay home. For doing house cleaning when I’m in horrible pain. I’m proud of myself for pushing myself beyond my comfort zone.

LoveMe Challenge, Day 18

Day #18: Something that feeds your brain.

Reading. I’m lucky enough to have been born to two avid readers who also loved to read to their children. I practically grew up in libraries. I adore reading and when the apathy and listlessness of my bipolar depression hasn’t taken over to where I can’t get myself to do anything, I read all the time, anything I can get my hands on, both fiction and non-fiction. Right now I’m reading Loving Our Kids on Purpose, The Way They Learn, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and The Secret Garden. (The last two are re-reads.)

Missing safety

Sometimes, when I’m especially struggling, I miss being in the psychiatric unit of the hospital.

Right now is one of those times.

Drawing Emotions

 

I’ve been having floods of emotion, moments of panic, periods of numbness since learning I’ll be starting partial hospitalization this week. I was told I would get more information today, and didn’t, so that added to my anxiety. In an effort to help myself calm down, I decided to art.

The first one I did was “How I Feel Now”. I am the center dot, retracted into myself, dark, trying just to hang on amidst the emotions surrounding me. Each level of emotion is spiky because it feels spiky and jarring. The bright colors in the center are “activating” emotions like anxiety, panic, excitement, and motivation and are like an explosion outward. The darker colors around them are immobilizing emotions like depression, overwhelmed, and fear, and are like an implosion, pushing inward.

The next one was my interpretation of what my emotions would look like if I were calm. It made me think of waves, or a gently flowing river.

Fear and determination

I have a couple dozen cuts on my wrist at various stages of healing. Some are fresh.

I’ve never  able to cut my wrists deep enough to kill myself. I’ve always been too scared. 

However, lately I’ve been determined. Iv been working my way up to it, getting deeper each time. 

I wonder how long it will be before I can do it.

Diagnosis

When I was talking to the eating disorder center’s intake coordinator last week, she suggested I get evaluated for bipolor disorder based on my answers to some of her questions.

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist today, so I planned to bring it up.

I didn’t have to. She brought it up first. She recommended a diagnosis of bipolar 2 and prescribed a mood stabilizer for me. She told me that it’s common for people with bipolar to get worse, or even suicidal, on antidepressants.

After I had time to process it, I felt both a sense of relief and hope and of frustration and anger. I feel relieved and hopeful because I feel like so many questions I had about myself have been answered and I have a plan of action that could actually help. I feel anger and frustration because I have been telling doctors and mental health professionals for years that antidepressants make me worse and suicidal and they always just brushed me off like I was crazy and then prescribed a new antidepressant, then acted like I had done something wrong when I proceeded to get worse.

I told my mom this afternoon and she started crying. I thought she was upset about the diagnosis, but when I asked her about it, she said it was relief. She told me she’s never been so relieved about bad news before.

I’m unsure whether to tell anyone else. I told a close friend, but I don’t know whether I’ll tell other friends, or my siblings. Still thinking on this. Thoughts?

Empty Platitudes

You may have seen by now that I hate platitudes, and find them more frustrating and patronizing than helpful.

This was posted on someone’s Facebook wall just now.

This is one of those sayings that sounds so nice and encouraging when you’re the one saying it it. However, as someone who’s been on the receiving end, I have never figured out what “the miracle” is.

I have struggled with depression most of my life and suicidal tendencies for about 2 decades. I have given up, or been close to giving up dozens of times. I have quit, and I have been ready to quit. I have attempted suicide, and I have longed for death. I have had long, hard nights where I KNEW I couldn’t keep going and I didn’t know how to hang on anymore.

I can tell you that not ONCE after any of these points have I experienced “the miracle” that is supposed to happen after. There is no wake up the next morning and things are miraculously better. There is no sudden epiphany that makes everything make sense and all the pain and suffering “worth it”.

My singular goal for tonight, this last day of 2014, was to not spend it in the ER like I did last New Year’s Eve. When a friend asked me what my plans were, that’s what I told her.

I am struggling, and I am hanging on for now, and I am trying to make the right choices. But telling me that “the miracle” is right around the corner is not helpful to me. It kind of just makes me want to slap you and tell you that you haven’t got a clue.

I’m sure I sound cynical. I’m sure I sound mean-spirited. I’m sure I sound bitter. However, when you deal with people telling you the same useless phrases over and over for years, it just gets old.