The Holiday

After I crashed huge last week, Hubby was having a harder and harder time managing to keep his emotions in check. It came to a boiling point on Monday evening, so we decided that we both needed a small break. Hub went to stay with some family for a few days while my Mom came to help me and help with Munchkin.

Yesterday was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. The entire atmosphere of the place has changed, everyone’s much more relaxed. Although today I’m having a bad day, I’m managing not too badly, and most important of all, I haven’t self harmed in two days now.

Oh how I wish I could be happy about this. I wish I could be happy about all of this, but I’m not. As my Therapist says, it’s like I’m getting screwed twice. My meds allow me to function, and I’ve been exhausting every bit of my personal strength to try to accomplish every day tasks, but because of the depression and the numbness from the pills, I feel no joy in my accomplishments.

People keep telling me that it is enough that I am going through the motions and even if I don’t feel good about it yet, it will ultimately help me in the long run, but on bad days like today, I just wish I could tell people to screw off. If you’ve ever forced yourself, in a really bad state to do something that you used to be able to do without thinking, on auto-pilot, and you’ve returned from it shaking, sweating through your shirt, and with no feeling of triumph, then you’d never say “It’s going to be better in the long run”. I don’t care about the long run. I’m trapped in my head, in this hell, in the now. There is no more light at the end of the tunnel. I am alone in the dark. Depression has narrowed my view of the world to the size of a peephole. No more big picture. Just immediate and never ending pain.

I only hope I have the strength to get through this. I don’t know how long this will last, but it’s wearing me down. I doubt myself all the time. I know it’s the disease, I know it’s the depression, but that doesn’t MEAN anything to me. It’s still what it is. I still have to deal with it. I don’t care what causes it, no one should have to live through this hell; To live in a world that they once found beautiful and can now only see as tainted.

When I laugh, I feel fake. It’s not the wild abandoned laughter that is naturally my own. It’s a hollow laugh, a forced smile. But I’m well practiced at this, and sometimes to protect the ones we love, we have to show them the best of ourselves. Even if it is an act. If anyone who cared about me knew half of the thoughts in my head, half of the pain, the side effects of all the pills I take, the self harming…they would be horrified. Just as I am all the time. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. And so I keep quiet, I try to smile and laugh, I make myself go through the motions. All this means to me is that I haven’t given up yet.

And Today’s letter is the letter ‘B’

I’ve been so fucked up lately, I don’t even know what to write. Hubby took some great pics of Munchkin last night so I thought I’d post one of those. How can you not smile at that sweet little face?

Whatever it takes…

Today was another bad one. I did however, whenever I felt the need to self harm, force myself to go to bed, cuddle under the covers and cry and tell my teddy bear all about everything. Stitch has been my faithful companion since birth. Now tattered and more delicate, he still lives on my bed. I was thinking today…imagine if he could somehow come to life. The things he would be able to tell us. That bear has seen a lot of things, many of them bad. He has always been my source of comfort, and while I know that Stitch is just a teddy bear, just an inanimate object, that bear is an entity to me. Maybe not a person, but I have poured so much of my soul into him over the years, there must be something special about him.

The bad news however, is that I ran out of Seroquil (I take 2 pills every night before bed), and the pharmacy couldn’t advance me any because there was a mistake on the computer saying the prescription was canceled. No way. I’ve been on this stuff for months, they don’t cut you off, they wean you off, but this is an addictive drug, and so the pharmacist just couldn’t give me any, despite my history. I just need to survive tonight without it, and I can get it fixed tomorrow. If the anxiety gets really bad, I may take an extra dose of Clonazepam, but only if I absolutely need it. I’m also planning to take two Gravol, which should knock me out in a manner similar to the Seroquil.

Last night was the best so far out of the past few days, so maybe I’m coming out of this. I hit bottom, and I have a long way to climb up. I’m so tired. Tired of being afraid all the time. Tired of the sucking feeling in my chest. Tired of the pain in my heart. Tired of the chaos inside my mind. I can’t keep things straight anymore at all. Last night, after taking my pills, I watched the latest Harry Potter film, The Order Of The Phoenix (yeah, I know, it fits, right?). I found it distracted me well and I was able to escape to their world for a few hours, at the end of which I could hardly keep my eyes open…which meant no self harm last night.

I saw a prevue for a movie we have available to rent off the TV. It’s The Seeker: The Dark Is Rising, a flashy looking, adventuresome, Indie film, which IMDB gives a whopping 4.6. But for me, it may be just what I need to distract myself from my pain until I can sleep.

From this post, you may deduce that I’m a different person that the one who wrote the last two, or that perhaps I have more than one personality, but the truth of it is, I was inspired today. Not just a little inspired. A lot inspired:

Today my baby boy’s face glowed when he saw me. He clumsily stumbled across his playpen and kissed me. He made the weight lift. He made my heart glow. He made me swell with the kind of love that conquers all.

Now I’m trying so hard not to self harm. So hard. I’ll do whatever it takes to get through this. For myself, and for the amazing people who are a part of this battle with me.

To those people: Fear not. Even when times seem at their darkest, just remember how my spirit always shines, and that I have amazing courage. No matter what knocks me down and out in life, I’ll always get up.

Remnants from the Dustbin

Usually, when I sit down to write a post, I have some idea in my mind of the direction my writing will be taking. Most of my posts are neat, complete little packages, which can be read by themselves, or grouped together with the rest of the posts to tell, what is ultimately, my story. This time however, I feel compelled to warn you as a reader that I have no idea at all about what I should or might want to write about. This post may wander all over the map as far as subjects go, but I’ll try to keep it as concise and flowing as possible, for your sake(s), if not my own.

I’ll start with the highlight of my day, when I got to see a raccoon family of four bed down in a tree right near our balcony. I went outside to watch them, and none of them seemed to mind my being there. Seeing raccoons again reminded me of my Grandparents, who used to feed a few strays some dog kibble until one day they found themselves with no more lawn, and around 30 hungry raccoons clambering to be fed. These days, it’s a different animal, same story for them, they now are the proud supporters of a large herd of deer and some wild turkeys to boot, also fed on their front lawn…their back lawn…their driveway…who really owns that place, that’s the real question

On to new topics…I’ve been blogging for about a year now, and have had several blogs, some describing my own life, and some the antics of my son. I never seemed however, to have the staying power to keep on writing. While I turned out some fantastic writing, most of it was forced and over-edited, without that natural flow of words that comes with the freedom of thought as we put our fingers to keys. In the end, all of these attempted blogs fizzled out. I took some time off from writing. I wasn’t ready to deal with the world, let alone write each day, feeling as though it was chore of some sort. Since I’ve started therapy, I’ve been encouraged to write and express myself, which I found impossible to do for a long, long time. And then one day, bam! The words just started to flow out of me. I guess I was finally ready to share. The things I love most about this blog are a) It’s anonymous, b) I can write about any subject I choose, without having the feeling that I have to pander to my audience (mostly family) and c) It has proven to be very therapeutic and has helped me to discover and come to more understandings about my situation, than I ever thought possible. Cheers to WordPress for hosting and powering this blog.

P.s Happy 4:20 ;0)

Finally, A Good Day

I’ve been waiting for one of these for the longest time.  A good day.  Wow.  It was amazing.  I started out this morning tentatively, not knowing what kind of a day it was going to be, and before I knew it, I was having a great time playing with A and M.  M has pool on Monday nights, so my Mom has generously offered to come here on Monday evenings to be with A and I.  Sometimes I can’t even get out of bed.  I’m terrified and hide in there, curled in the fetal position.  That’s when M stays home from pool.  But now, thanks to Mom and L, I’ll have support on the night I’m alone.  Tonight turned into a fun evening, watching the antics of A, then having a girl’s night, including a haircut for my Mom, and just generally relaxing together.  Getting reacquainted.  It’s been a long time since Mom and I spent this much time together.  We used to be very close, but life has steered us slightly apart so that we see a lot less of each other these days.  I look forward to these Mondays very much.

M returned from pool and Mom went home.  M and I enjoyed a pleasant rest of the evening.  I’ve had only very fast flashes of panic, but they’re gone before I know what to think.  I’ve been awake for a while since M went to bed, but I’ve been having fun on my own, and plan to head to bed after this post…harm free!  My first day in a while.  I’ve also begun to take good care of my burns again, medicating and bandaging them to keep them from infecting.  For a while I hated myself so much that I didn’t bother.  I’m glad that I care once more.

For Laughs

From the show “Frasier“: Niles prepares for his Valentine’s Day date, but things go awry…

A Rock, A Hard Place & A Wedding

Yesterday was the day of the wedding that has been causing me so much anxiety this past week. Hubby had been looking forward to it for weeks, talking all about it with his relatives, and he was going to wear a suit for the first time since we’ve been together. I, on the other hand, was becoming more of a wreck with each day it grew nearer. The day before, I tried to tell hubby that I didn’t think I could do it because of my intense fear of crowds. There was to be about 200 people there, and I am in no condition to be able to handle that kind of thing right now. He maintained that we would go. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I was petrified and spent time crying and rocking on the carpet and self harming. Among other things, I branded myself many times.

I felt stuck. I wanted so badly to go to the wedding for my husband, to support him as he’s been supporting me these last few weeks, that I was forcing myself to go. I knew in my heart that I couldn’t do it. God knows, I tried. I tried to gain control of myself over and over. Morning arrived, and with it, uncontrollable tremors, and still, my husband wanted to go. My parents arrived to babysit munchkin and were understandably concerned with my condition. I tried to talk to my husband, but I couldn’t force myself to ask him for what I needed: to stay at home. We made it down to the car before we figured out we weren’t going. Unfortunately, it took a lot of yelling and drama to get us to that realization.

After that, I began to relax. My parents stayed for the majority of the afternoon and I felt relaxed in their company. Last night I was able to get some sleep, although it was disturbed, despite my Seroquil.

After all the difficulties yesterday, I have finally realized that I am very sick right now. I have almost no control over my anxiety and my emotions. Over the night before the wedding and the morning of, I branded my arm a total of 12 times. I counted last night. I need more time to heal. I can’t expect so much of myself. I need to trust my family more. I need to stop trying to fix everything on my own and ask for help, because I have a wonderful group of people in my support group who would do anything to help me. It’s time I started to let down my guard and let them.

To those people: I’m sorry I have been distant. I’m sorry I have been wary of trusting. I am very vulnerable right now, and I find it extremely hard to open up for fear of getting hurt. My natural instinct, the way I lived my childhood, is to put up walls. I have to fight this every day. Every hour. Every minute. But while I may lose some battles, I am ultimately winning the war. Please be patient with me.

The Lizard and the Eagle

During one of my many smaller depressive episodes, a wise woman sat on the edge of my bed and told me a story of a Lizard and an Eagle. The Lizard was lazy, waiting around on his rock all day, bathing in the sun, waiting for his prey to come to him. The Eagle was hunting all day, feeling the freedom of the wind on his wings, and seeking out for himself that which he wanted. She told me that though I was down then, and I was the Lizard, one day again soon, I would be the Eagle, and I would soar and achieve my goals.

Since that day, I have become the Eagle. I have achieved more in my short lifetime than some achieve at all. But the Eagle has enemies. I’ve been caught by mine, and as I fight to escape their clutches, I lose more and more of my heart, more and more of my spirit, until I am once again the Lizard, waiting.

The other day I was in a convenience store, and saw a small black lighter. A different brand than the usual kinds you see. There were many designs, but the first one to catch my eye was one with a lizard on it. I purchased it for those times when I can’t be the Eagle. I can’t soar above it all. I can only fight as hard as I can each day, and wait. And when I am weak, and I need to resort to shame and torture to beat back my grief and pain, I will use that lighter and take comfort that the Lizard is a wily creature, a tough creature, a creature who survives.

Comfortably Numb

After last week’s traumatic events, my anxiety medications were both upped in dosage to get me through this weekend and the coming week.  While I’m extremely relieved that they’ve taken away the worst of my anxiety, and for the most part, my urges to self harm, I feel…dopey.  All the time.  I feel as though I’m stumbling through the day half awake.  Half the time, I can’t remember if I’ve taken my pills.  I have yet to decide whether this is a good or a bad thing, but for now, I’m just thankful for the lack of nightmares.  A few hours of peace each night go a long way to making me stronger.  In the meantime, I might as well sit back on my over medicated ass and enjoy the vapor trails and pretty colours.

P.s While I was comfortably numb today, I deleted my dad.  No more phone numbers, no longer in my contacts, every single e-mail between us gone.  No more reminders.  And you know what?  I felt good for the rest of the day.  However, we’ll wait and see what tomorrow brings.  I’m guessing a wave of guilt that will nearly drown me.  I know I’ve made the right decision though.