Tag: psychosis

About depression that I have to get off my chest

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, suicide, suicide attempt

About depression that I have to get off my chest

There has been a LOT of talk lately about depression being treatable. Let me say first, that for some, it is. Therapy has been helpful to some in dealing with it. Medications and therapy still prove to be useful in treatment of depression or actually any mental illness. It was once thought that schizophrenia was a medication only illness. But I learned through one of my suicidologists that isn’t always true, as there was a paper written by him about he helped decrease an individual’s suicide risk by seeing him weekly or more if suicide was more present. It helped the patient feel cared for. If I find the article in my files, I will share it if you care to read it.

I am in no way saying you should NOT get help if you are feeling depressed. But my experiences (which are not the same to the whole depression population) beg to differ. I have yet to find anything that helps the mood shifts. Since my long time therapist stopped seeing me for reasons I have still yet to learn, I have been the most unstable and hopeless I have been in the 16 years I was in “treatment” with her. We had our disagreements about treatment. Transference and countertranferences were helpful at times but were no long lasting. She stuck with the way she was treating me and I stuck to being, well, depressed and suicidal.

What I have to get off my chest is that sometimes, depression is untreatable in a small percentage of people. There is such a thing as treatment resistant depression. Despite ECT (“shock” therapy), medication, and therapy, one can still feel depressed. There are a trillion reasons for this. Sometimes it has to do with the trauma one experienced. Some has to do with biology itself, that the genetic predisposition of a person makes them depressed. Other times it has nothing to do with a trauma or situation. It just happens that you start withdrawing from life, slowly at first and before you know it, you can’t go back to things you loved because, frankly, you are too depressed. Sometimes you maybe too depressed to seek help and a friend or family member needs to push you to get it. The thing is, depression still exists despite treatment. Some people have suffered depression for years and have never told a single soul. They are the small percentage that still go on with their episodes after they pass. They are less likely to die by suicide. Hell you don’t NEED depression to end your life. It has happened. Look at the Shawshank Redemption movie. The warden was “well” mentally and rather than be arrested and humiliated, he killed himself. Would anyone have thought he would do such a thing? No. And that is what my point is. Although we know what the risks are for suicide, depression and mental illness is only a small window into those risks. There are some people who die that have no history of mental illness yet die by suicide. I won’t go into more discussion about it because this is a loaded issue. I suggest reading the Myths and Facts of Suicide by Thomas Joiner. It is a really good book about what I am talking about.

I can only talk about my experience, no one else’s. I have been depressed since I was 8, maybe younger. I only know this because I started thinking suicide was a good idea at that age. I was 10 when I tried to end my life for the first time. I suffered from depression and after taking Prozac, became bipolar because the medication caused mania like symptoms. Not once during my years of being on medication AND therapy did my thoughts of suicide leave me fully. Neither did depression. There were brief times where I felt contentment. I honestly don’t believe in happiness. Like anger, it is a fleeting emotion and doesn’t last. But feeling contentment does happen for me and I sometimes feel comfortable in it. I know it isn’t going to last long. It never does. The depression always finds a way back, maybe not right away but it does come back. Despite some of my successes in life, graduating from high school, getting my Associate’s degree, publishing two books, I still was depressed. I was elated for a little while but it was fleeing. Just like when I wrote the article for the New York Times. I couldn’t believe and still don’t, that it happened. I still have the check that one day I will frame along with the article. But soon after all the paperwork was filed and I was waiting for it to be published, I was intensely depressed. The New York fucking Times was publishing something I wrote and instead of being happy as a pig in shit, I was depressed. I learned that no matter what my success in life was, no matter how much money I made, good job that I had, I was going to always be depressed. I could do one of two things. I could accept that this was the way it was always going to be or fight it. I chose to accept it.

I knew I had been fighting it since I was 16 that I would always have to take medication for my mental illness. It wasn’t easy but I knew if I was to avoid a lifetime of hospitalizations, I would need to take medicine to hold off the demons. Yet despite this theory, I was still hospitalized. Many times. Some times it was like a revolving door during my worst episodes. In 1994, I suffered a huge major depressive episode. I was hospitalized almost every two weeks and then for two months because I tried to end my life. It was one of the lowest periods of my life. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. Showering didn’t matter. I gained a ton of weight from the meds I was put on. I started living an almost double life. The life the psychiatrists wanted to see and who I really was at home, when I was by myself. Hopelessness was rampant and totally lost on me. I can’t say that I got better. I just got better at hiding from myself, to keep the darkness at a minimum so I wouldn’t be committed at the age of 19 to a state hospital. Even then the façade I built was hard to put down. I just did what I was told to do and when I felt like acting on my feelings of suicide, I told my therapist or psychiatrist, which inevitably led to another hospitalization. But the hospitals in the 1990s were different than they are today. Today they are nothing but holding pens. Two maybe three days you are in and then you are out. If you need more help and have an outpatient therapist, you see them. You don’t need to be in. Maybe you stay for a week or two. But never more than that. Insurance won’t pay for it. And you don’t really get “treated”. You are watched 24/7 to make sure you don’t harm yourself. You might find a “treatment team” that listens but that is ALL THEY DO. They don’t help you in what you came in for. That is for you and your outpatient therapist to work out. If you don’t have one, you might get referred to someone. I’ve never been in that situation so not sure how that works.

I have lost faith that my illness is “treatable”. Seems no matter what I do, I end up depressed or just stay depressed. I am okay with that. I’ve known for a while that there is no longer an antidepressant out there for me. I am grateful my mood stabilizer still works. I just hope that it does fuck up my sodium levels and I need to some off it. Then I will be really screwed. In that sense, I still take my meds because they help. I no longer have commanding voices every day and the accompanying paranoia and delusions. I have to take a med for that every day. But therapy is still elusive. I honestly don’t know if it helps. Talking with someone honestly, like writing this blog, has been useful. Sometimes it feels good to talk to my therapist and leave knowing that someone understands, even if he thinks I am crazy. He said that he is “taking my lead”, which I am not sure about but it is a learning curve like anything else. And I will stress again, that if you aren’t comfortable with the person you are talking to, if they make you uncomfortable or just not getting it, find someone else. There are a lot of different therapists out there. A lot of different degrees as well (but all should be licensed by the state you are in, if they aren’t, I wouldn’t see them). It will take some time to know if they fit with you. The average is about 3 or 4 sessions. Any more than that might be a waste of time if there is no connection.

random thoughts 07062018

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, suicide

I was up late last night. I was talking to a friend who was concerned about me. I didn’t tell her specifically what I was going through. But it was getting late and I let her know that I will talk to her sometime today. She said okay.

I then got a message from another Twitter buddy saying some friends have contacted him over their concern for me. I had told him months ago what I was planning so he knew. He said I was important to him. I told him he was important to me, too. I didn’t say more than that.

I went downstairs and made coffee. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to eat. I ended up making a peanut butter sandwich. Afterwards, I took out the recycle and trash. I was feeling okay but the bins were on the street so I had to do some walking back and forth. By the time I was done, my foot yelled at me. I limped upstairs. There was one more bag of recycle to take out. I wasn’t going to do it, least not then. I went up to my room and even though I checked off that I took my pain meds, I didn’t. I took them and tried to nap but my foot wasn’t having it.

I am hurting a great deal because of the trash. I had taken a shower so I am sure that just stressed me without realizing it. I am so tired of being in pain. I am trying not to freak out over tomorrow. Tomorrow I see the pain doc and I hope my pain meds will be changed. My PCP has written my current meds which I will pick up tomorrow before the appointment should the pain doc not prescribe or if there is a problem filling them at the pharmacy so I will have meds over the weekend. I am seeing the pain doc late so by the time I get home, and if there is a problem, I won’t be able to fix it until Monday, which will leave me with no meds.

I wanted to write a blog last night but nothing was coming to me. I had woken up around 1500 so there wasn’t much to talk about. I had written a blog around 0600. I don’t know why blogging is becoming so hard for me. I guess it is hard when there is no feedback and I feel like I am just throwing the words out but no one is reading. There may be a few who read the blog for the day but no comment or like. I don’t think I got a like on my blog since last week. This blog is just an outlet for me but lately, I just say the same things. Pain, routine, end of blog.

There was a wonderful facebook post about Kate Spade. She is the fashion bag designer that died by suicide the other day. The write wrote about how she knew this actor had cancer and the type it was and listed a few people with other chronic illnesses, but you don’t hear about people with depression or anxiety or schizophrenia. No one wants to hear that. Everyone seems to judge them on their character, saying if you are this then you can’t be depressed or anxious or have a serious mental illness. Stigma kills so many people who want to get help yet are afraid about how they will be perceived after they have or even to admit they have a mental illness.

My blog started off as a way to talk about suicide because no one was. It is a daily struggle for me but I have stopped because there are people out there who don’t understand or are fearful about it so they report me. I had it happen on Twitter the other day. Just because someone says they are thinking about ending their lives doesn’t mean they are going to right then and there. Talk to them about it. Be there for them. Don’t make them feel more crazy than they are already feeling. Be a support to them and if need be, go with them to get help. Admitting you have a problem is only half the battle. I know so many people who have serious issues and the one thing holding them back is fear of how they are going to be perceived by others. Fuck them. You need help, get it. Simple as that. If the first person you talk to you don’t like or doesn’t fit with you, try someone else. I went through so many therapists to find the right one. And even though the therapist I see now is not right for me, he is good enough. Yes, rejection hurts. I have been rejected by so many therapists because of my suicidal history it is not funny. But I didn’t let that stop me from finding the one I am with now. If the psychiatrist you are with doesn’t help you, there are others. Find them. I know it’s not easy and you think you are hopeless, but you are not. That is the depression lying to you. Too many families go through heartbreak because one member doesn’t seek help they need. Take the step. There are resources out there. Check out NAMI or Google a search for therapists in your area. Talk to your primary doctor about how you are feeling and that you need help. They can often refer you to someone. Or call your insurance and find out who is accepting new patients. Ask how recent the list is because most therapists (as I found out) are not always seeing new patients as the list is old and hasn’t been updated in years.

shaky arms are back

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Shaky arms are back

Appliances that I ordered for my mother came this morning. I didn’t get much sleep. The delivery guys were fast and installed the washer. Thankfully there were no problems, other than the washer need “high efficiency” detergent. I just told my mother to use less detergent. I don’t know why she would use more than a quarter of a cup anyways as the damn thing is so sudsy. She wanted another washer but they didn’t have one that were the size or price range she wanted. She said she would use less. I told her after 10-20 loads, she could just use white vinegar to prevent mold and mildew. She agreed.

I made a sandwich and then went up to my room. I had made coffee but it didn’t help my poor sleep. I took a nap for a couple of hours. I woke up feeling weird. I used the bathroom before my bladder burst. Came back upstairs and then my arms felt like spaghetti. Not what I wanted to feel. It was side effects to the Invega. I quickly took an Ativan before they became worse. I don’t get this way often like I did when I was on the abilify. I hate this feeling. It is the worse.

I called my mother and told her to hold dinner for me. I would be sleeping for a few hours as I didn’t feel good. She didn’t ask what was wrong, thank god. I am feeling restless so I don’t know if I will be able to get back to sleep. I got to wait for the Ativan to kick in. My ankle pain is rearing its ugly head. I just feel like giving up. Last night I was swimming in despair. I wrote some stuff in my journal and then vented to a friend via email. I don’t remember what I wrote. She wrote back in the morning with the words in all caps “Don’t kill yourself”, so I must have written something to that effect. I have been feeling a little suicidal at night. I think it is this time of year. Being in severe pain doesn’t help. I put on an ace bandage thingy and slept with it. For the first time in a month or so, I was able to stand without too much pain so it obviously helped.

Now my ankle/foot feels like it is made of strings. Fuck! I hate this type of side effect the most but it is the least concerning. It doesn’t happen often, so I am grateful for that. I just emailed my psych about this to keep her in the loop.

I closed my window because it was bloody cold in my room when I woke up. Holy crap! It wasn’t snowing or raining yet. That wouldn’t start until the afternoon. When I checked the mail, there were flurries. They didn’t appear to be sticking. My mother had turned down the heat because of yesterday’s high temps. I turned it up as it was cold in the house. I must have been cold during the night because my comforter was on me. It’s still chilly in my room but it’s bearable. I like the cold anyways. My ankle and foot, however, doesn’t. They are warm under the blankets right now. I have made sure to keep them warm. Last thing I need is that icy coldness that CRPS brings. Takes forever to warm up and then when it does, it burns.

I have to go out tomorrow to get my prescriptions at my PCP’s office. I don’t get paid till Monday so I won’t be able to get them until then. I just calculated all the meds I need to get next week and it’s going to be roughly $60. I was hoping to fix my laptop this month but I don’t think I can afford it. I’m still waiting to see what my premium is for my medical insurance. I haven’t received the letter yet, which is odd because I usually get it the beginning of the month. I somehow messed up my finances as I don’t have that much money left over after all my bills are paid. I think I might have to shrink my grocery bill somehow. I wanted to make a chili cornbread casserole. The ingredients are not too expensive, except for the beef. I will have to go to the butcher shop. I like their meat better than the grocery store. You can definitely taste the difference. I might buy a 3 lb bag of beef. Then I can make my dirty gravy. My mother is not a chili fan so I will most likely eat this thing, if my brother in law doesn’t have some. My sister might as she likes hot stuff.

Ativan is kicking in so I am going to rest now. The spaghetti feeling is fading. I am glad.

Shepard’s Pie and my downfall

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders

Shepard’s Pie and my downfall

I woke up early, around 0630. I was in pain so took my meds. It was too early to get to the butcher shop. I wanted to go before it started snowing. I played on my phone for a bit. Then decided to leave around 0720. I figure I would go to Starbucks and maybe write if I felt inclined. I brought my notebook with me. I had breakfast. I mobile ordered it because I didn’t bring my own mug. It was the first time I forgot. After I ate breakfast, I didn’t feel like writing as nothing was coming to me. It was after 8 so I went to the butcher’s shop. I had to laugh when I found a 2 pound ground beef package for $18. It was not labeled as ground beef though. The label said marinated steak tips. I found a package within my price range and then left to go to the grocery store across the street. My mother wanted eggs so I grabbed three dozen.

I came home and was hurting. I was also tired. I took a nap and had some wild dream. It was snowing when I woke up around 1. I wasn’t hungry. I wanted to make the cheddar biscuits but I was in too much pain. I decided I would just make the Shepard’s Pie. I was kind of disappointed but I didn’t want to push myself. I tried to nap again around 1400 and my foot went berserk. It was raining by this point. I closed the window. I really just wanted to make the pie and have this comfort food. It came out pretty good, though I forgot to put the beef gravy in before topping it with mashed potatoes. Oh well. It still came out good. My mother said it tasted blah and I should have put in onions. I don’t like onions. A friend saw the pic I posted of how it looked and said next time I should try it with creamed corn. I think I am going to. I haven’t had creamed corn in a very long time.

I came up to my room after cleaning up a little. My foot was hurting and I was sleepy again. I laid down and my ankle, foot, and shin muscles went berserk. I cried out in pain. I took the strong pain pill and was feeling really crappy. It was not a hard meal to prepare and make but CRPS doesn’t care. I was hurting too much to go downstairs to get a heat pack for my shin muscles. I have found that helpful to calm them down. I am still hurting but the pain meds are helping. In a little bit I will take my regular pain pills. I am just so done with this day. I took my night meds early because I just didn’t care. Voices have been bothering me most of the day and my psychiatrist doesn’t want to do anything about it. She asked if I wanted to come to the ER but that will just freak me out as there are always too many people and with my paranoia, it just isn’t good. I wouldn’t feel safe being surrounded by strangers. I see her next week and I will ask her to either increase the Invega or take the trilafon as a PRN. I am playing Mary Chapin Carpenter as her voice calms down my agitation. There is just something about her voice that I find so soothing. She is coming out with a new album the end of next month. I bought her single, Heroes and Heroines. It is a good song. She changed record labels again. I think she has had at least 4 different labels over the years that I have noticed. I don’t care as long as she has new music. She is a great writer. I know she hasn’t been nominated for awards or anything lately but I love her just the same.