Been a Long Time

It's been a long time since I've done any writing, as you can tell.   I'm a firm believer that I should have something worth sharing, rather than just blithering on about whatever little detail is stuck in my head.  So many people do that in their blogs...can't say I am all that wild about reading about someone moaning over their laundry and how long it took to do it and they're still not done yet.   You know what I mean.  That's the kind of life I've been leading over the last several months. 

What has been post worthy, I've probably posted something similar about it before.  Just something of a continuation in a theme in my life, with no new insights to share.  So, in my mind, that rendered it un-post worthy. 

Lately, I've had a sense of reaching for something.  What or where, I don't know.  I am not trying to make contact with friends or family.  I'm just as withdrawn as ever.  I'm certainly not doing it here.  Maybe it's more of a yearning.  Longing.  Wanting my life back.  I've known for some time that nothing is ever going to be the same...and it shouldn't be.   We know where that leads.  Somehow I have to figure out what life is supposed to be like and I'm not sure what that is.  All I know is what it is right now is not necessarily what I want.

I miss working.  I like having a job.  All the jobs I have had have ultimately made me ill, so it's hard to conceive of a job that won't.  Especially when you consider my work ethic.  I tend to throw myself into things.  (Gee, what a surprise.  A bipolar with no sense of balance?  Surely, you jest...).  Here I am without a job, completely inert.  I feel like there are only two worlds to choose from.  And I know that's not how most people live their lives, so there are some skills I need to learn.  Where do I learn them?  Is this something my therapist is supposed to be teaching me?  If not, who?

In March it will be 2 years since I stopped working.  I have achieved a greater level of stability, but don't feel any healthier than I was when I stopped.  Granted, I got far sicker after that, and I'm definitely better than that point, but judging by the level I was at when I stopped, I'm not much better.  I just don't cry like I did then.  How much of that is through the wonders of medication?  Hard to say.

Now, I'm also stuck in a hard position.  I had arranged to go through retraining, but am now in a situation where I have no childcare.  No idea when that will change, but it won't be any time soon.  So there's no getting out of the house for me at all.  It may not be until September that I can put an eye toward any idea of work options.  That in itself is depressing.

At the moment, I wish I was "normal".

Frustration

It's been a long time since I've blogged.  I go on these hiatuses when I feel uninspired.  Lately, I've had some stuff on my mind, but have hesitated writing about it.  I can't hold back anymore, but I'll give a brief update before I get down to the heart of things.

I've reacted well to the change in anti-depressants.  I'm taking 90mg of Cymbalta only now, and from all appearances, I've reacted well to it.  I think there is some room for improvement, but I don't know if that means we'll be going up in my dosage or not next visit.  The neatest thing is I was able to take all 3 kids to a movie by myself last weekend.  That's something that I never would have considered under some of the best circumstances.  So, this must be some good stuff.  I do still avoid going out and doing anything at all most days, though.  Hopefully this changes over time with this medication.

As well as things are going, I'm having a problem with my husband.  He's been drinking again.  It hasn't been just one slip, but is becoming what appears to be a regular thing, a couple times a week over the last two weeks.  I am not sure what to do. 

According to him:  He is still having a hard time with the things I did and continues to be intensely angry with me.  This anger and the pain of what I did fuels his desire to drink and he is unable to resist.  There is also some subconscious desire for me to throw him out so that maybe his pain will be alleviated by not having to be with me anymore.  He is unable to bring himself to leave me, so that if he gets drunk enough times that I reach the end of my rope, I will do it. 

According to me:  He's an alcoholic.  He drinks because he is an alcoholic.  There is no reason, only justification.  I don't feel responsible or guilty for his break in sobriety.  In reality, it has nothing to do with me.  If I had never done anything, he'd find another "reason".  He did before I ever made my mistakes.  This was a problem between us long before I ever did anything.

Aside from all the other problems this presents, one of my big concerns right now is that this behavior is a major trigger for me.  In the past, it has been a trigger for mania.  I'm not saying it is a cause for it, but there is that danger where chemicals and environment collide and you just don't know what is going to happen.  I'm not perfectly controlled right now, although I am on a good dose of Geodon, so I worry.  I've already had the old angry thoughts of "He doesn't give a fuck, so why should I?" however, and that isn't a good sign. 

I don't want to lash out, I don't want to cause any pain, even if I am being hurt again.  It just feels so intentional, just like before.  That's one thing I've never been able to make him understand.  It always felt like when he drank, it wasn't just that he didn't care, it was that he wanted to hurt me.  He wanted me to feel isolated and alone, like he hated me.  I'm sure he takes great pleasure in that now, but I never understood why he did then.  I don't know what I did back then.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had made different choices.  An exercise in futility, I know, but it's hard not to do sometimes.  Our first conversation about a week before I got pregnant.  What if I had just called it quits before I knew I was pregnant?  Would things have changed once I found out I was?  What if I had decided not to stay with him when I found out he had cheated on me?  What if I had left him when I first threatened to, when I only had two children?  Would we still be at the point we are at today?  All those opportunities precede my bad choices.  What I wonder is, if I had made different choices at those points in time, would I have avoided my mistakes, but would we still have ended up here dealing with this issue but with different "reasons" swirling around it?  I don't know if I would have avoided my bad choices, but even if we assume I would have, I think we would be here.  I am so tied to and love this man, I couldn't have stayed away from him.  He has a disease and it's part of him the same way I have a mental illness that is part of me.   I'm lost at the moment and I don't know what to do, but I know that I don't want to give up.  I just don't know if he has given up.  What I fear the most is that he may have given up on himself. 

Wow, the month has really gotten away from me.  Not too much has gone on, other than a change in my antidepressants.  Dr. Tween switched my Zoloft to Cymbalta, so I'm currently weaning off one and adding in the other.  I'll be completely off the Zoloft by the end of next week.  I have only noticed a tiny difference.  I still get very drowsy, but it's a little later in the day.  I'm still waking up early in the morning, but it's less often than before.  I see her today, so I'm sure she will think that's progress.

I received my 'Ticket to Work' from the SSA yesterday, so I can be retrained to a new occupation now, if I want.  I have absolutely no idea what I would want to do.  It's not feasible right now as it is, but the idea of doing something new does cross my mind from time to time.  I don't think I want to stay home forever, but what would I ultimately want to do, be capable of doing?  I just don't know the answer to that question.

When I've thought of working, I can't conceive of a job that does not require the kind of demands that I have been accustomed to meeting.  The kind that ultimately make me sick.  It's the only kind of work I've ever done, really.  The jobs where I have had less demands, I've spent in pursuit of the next higher position that did have greater demands.  I have always been ambitious.  I don't see that changing for me.  I don't think I can be different.

Does that mean I should be self-employed?  Doing what, exactly?  I have some ideas, but I don't think I'd be able to pay the bills doing them, either.  It's all very premature at this point, but I have to think about it at least a little. 

I do wish I had a passion for something.  Sadly, I don't.

Breakthrough Depression

Earlier this week, I struggled with some breakthrough depression.  It lasted about 3 days, but in that time, it laid me pretty low.  I didn't want to get out of bed.  Were it not for the fact I had to take my Aunt somewhere, I would have stayed there.  I only started feeling better yesterday.  It's a strange thing to have happen.  Everything is going along status quo, and then out of the blue, BAM!  You're on your ass.  I guess that's just how strong mental illness is.  Not even modern chemistry can completely control it.

It frightens me to think that one day, that could just happen and stay that way.  My medication could just stop working altogether.  It happens.  Then again, it could just keep working.  I am comforted by my therapist's story.  As I have mentioned before, he is bipolar and has been episode free for 25 years.  He has been on the same medication for the entire time.

Rather than looking at the episode I had in a negative light, I am seeing it differently.  Many people with "controlled" bipolar still have cycling symptoms.  These are the people who keep mood charts.  I've read about it, but never quite understood why they kept them.  I've read about people who kept mood journals, and how the illness was very predictable so they knew when they were about to have a down day and how to plan for it.  It seemed so alien to me.  Well, looking at it now I realize it's because my moods are stable.  I don't vary widely in how I feel from one day to the next, one week to the next, etc.  I can be easily irritated sometimes, but that doesn't mean I woke up irritable (it usually is a cumulative thing).  I don't have days where I'm extra buoyant, and aside from the aberrant depression I had earlier this week, nor do I have days where I am just blue or down in the dumps.  Sundays produce some anxiety for me, but I know why that happens.  So, it stands to reason that my mood stabilizers are doing their job.  (Ya think, genius?)  I guess this is successful treatment on one level and I just never saw it.

The depression has been tricky.  It's been stubborn and hard to lift, as anyone who has read this blog for more than a post or two knows.  I had a really good day last week where I actually felt happy.  Yesterday, I was out of that sudden depressed state, and guess what?  I felt happy again.  This morning, I feel pretty fucking good, too.  I swear if I wasn't already crazy, this illness would drive me nuts.  It makes no sense.

When I got sick, my family was upset and concerned for me.  I agreed to let them call Dr. Tween.  I didn't want to feel that way any more than they wanted me to feel that way.  Since I see her this coming Friday, normally I would have just toughed it out until I saw her.   This time, I acquiesed but did not speak to her.  She told my husband that she was considering changing one of my anti-depressants to Cymbalta or Effexor.  I am not interested in taking either.  I researched both, and there are side effects with one or the other that I don't want to risk experiencing.  I've only been at the current dose of Wellbutrin for 30 days, so maybe I just haven't given it enough time.  I don't know.  I do know that I haven't been doing as much as I can for myself, as much as I should be doing for myself.  I need to do that before I move on to something else.  I can't solely rely on medication--no matter which medication it is--or it will never happen.

So, while I am not a "Resolutioner" as I mentioned in my last post, I do have to create a new structure for myself.  I am cheered at the prospect of building one because order and predictability are a bipolar person's best friend.  I feel good. I feel strong enough to devise and implement a solid plan.  The kids go back to school next week, so my normal routine will be back in place.  That should also help me stay on board.  Setting up a schedule is going to feel a lot like making a resolution.  It has that fresh start appeal; all the excitement of a new beginning.  Then again, I always have had a weakness for a blank piece of paper, too.  I like new stuff.  I think that's a bipolar thing.  Anyway, just because it feels like a resolution doesn't mean it IS one.  What am I obsessing about, anyhow?  Nobody gives a shit whether or not I've made a resolution!  They aren't thinking about me.  They're probably too busy trying to achieve their own resolutions.

So, my mood is stable overall.  In the grand scheme of things, I started feeling, and right now feel, better than I did before the depressive episode.  I feel better than not sad.  I feel reasonably happy.  I think between the medication and a full routine/solid structure, I will achieve the level of mental well-being for which we have been aiming.  That's what I'm telling Dr. Tween, anyway.

Welcome 2010!

Here we are beginning another year.  I think everyone has a sense of changed perspective at the turn of a year, nevermind the fact that nothing has really changed.  It's just the next day after the last.  I think we all just feel like we have a fresh start, and who doesn't like that?

I know I am happy to drop kick 2009's ass into the past and tell it to never show it's dirty face 'round here no mo'.  It was by far the worst year of my life thus far.  I am hopeful that 2010 will be a year filled with happiness, but I am reasonable in my expectations.  I am not a "Resolutioner".  I don't think changing calendars is a magical ritual that allows one to create a perfect future.  If I want to make changes, I can do try at any point in the year.  Setting goals to begin right at the New Year is setting oneself up for failure, if you ask me.  Here you are with a full head of steam, ready to go balls out on something, only to lose your mojo because you went too hard and fast at it.  The New Year inspires too much enthusiasm at goal setting and changing.  Go to any gym and take a look after January 1.

Speaking of gyms...I have spent a fair amount of time in the gym during my adult life.  I have always hated the period between January 1 and March 1.  It is a damned zoo.  I'm all for people trying to get healthy and better themselves.  I just wish they didn't all do it at once.  The Resolutioners descend en masse, taking all the parking spaces, hogging the machines and generally getting in the way for two months.  Then they slowly give up on themselves.  It's hard not to get grumbly and think "Why are you bothering in the first place?  You aren't going to be at this for long--now get out of my way."  Terrible thinking, but terribly human.

Now, here is my dilemma.  I have not been to the gym in a long while.  I have been fighting a stubborn depression.  I just went through a bad couple of days and my psychiatrist is thinking of changing one of my antidepressants to one of two others which I am not willing to take.  I realized that I have not been doing my part to improve my moods by working out, setting up a complete structure--a regular routine--for myself.  I could be eating healthier and regularly (I skip meals a lot).  My medication can only do so much.  Without doing my part, I'm only going to get half way there.  All this just happens to coincide with the New Year.  Greeeaaat.  I'm going to look like a Resolutioner, and I'm going to have to deal with them from the get-go.  My only hope is that I will be going mid-morning when most people should be at work.  Unless all the stay-at-home moms have decided to do something about their big butts, (which I suddenly realize is probably a very big demographic for Resolution Movement) I might do ok.  Regularly, there is almost no traffic during the mid-day when I have time to go.  The scary part is the YMCA, where I work out, has free child care so that won't be an excuse to keep those broads home.  Now I'm really scared.  Hopefully they are too self-conscious to go without their husbands.  I sound so petty and condescending.  I don't mean to be.  I just have my social anxiety and want to be alone.  Shoot me.  I'm bipolar.  I'm actually afraid if too many people are present, I will fail at doing what I need to do and I'm selfish.  The only other option I can think of is walking around the track at the park we have down the street from our house.  At least I have options.  I'd just have to tough it out at the gym when it rains.

Well, the one thing I can really look forward to is buying new work out clothes.  All my stuff is pretty ratty.  I sure do like to shop.  That part is complimentary of my bipolar, too.  The downside is that I will really look like a Resolutioner to the cashier.  Oh well.