Where’d I go?

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I feel like my writing fell off the face of the earth.

It was an every day thing for me. Every event was one more topic to write about. I felt like a piece of me was missing if I didn’t sit down and knock out a post each day.

And overnight my interest waned.

But writing is an important part of who I am and this is just a symptom of my depression. Allowing myself to avoid putting fingers to keys is one more way I’m allowing the depression to win.

I saw my psychiatrist today. I asked her if we could increase my Lamictal.  Last time it helped.

She handed me a lab slip.

But I don’t want to wait for a stupid blood test. I want to feel better now. I want to feel better a week ago, two weeks ago, maybe it’s been a month or longer.

This constant, although minimal, depression is draining. I spend part of my days feeling like I’m crawling through quicksand. I’m not quite being sucked under, I’m maybe not in danger, but it feels like I could be.

I’m still doing what has to be done but I also spend time being resentful. There’s a quiet voice in the back of my head asking why I’m the only one doing the things that I normally want to the only one doing. (Well now, that sentence was as clear as mud, but it made sense to me.)

Those things that need doing seem like so much work right now.

But the same quiet voice keeps me from asking for help.

The same quiet voice makes me want to pick fights.

It makes me angry over things that I would normally shrug off.

But I know that quiet voice is the voice of depression. It’s the same voice that keeps me from writing.

The same voice that makes me want to crawl in bed because nothing seems interesting and the bed just seems so comfortable. Even though all I do is stare at the image of the clock projected onto the ceiling.  I watch and wait for the minutes to change.

Sometimes minutes turn into hours.

Sometimes hours turn into days.  Days without writing.

But once I put my fingers to keys again, I see that I still have a lot to say.

I can’t let this depression take my words, take my voice, take this part of me.

It’s too important that I speak my story and share my truth.

It’s too important that I keep shining a light into all the dark spaces.

So much to do, So little time.

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I still hurt today.  I woke up feeling like my hip had let up, but as the day has gone on, it has gotten worse and worse.

Now I’m back to not being able to get comfortable, and feeling like I’m going to cry.

I emailed my doctor and asked her if she’d send me for imaging without an office visit.  It seems dumb to go in just to have her say “We need Xrays and if that doesn’t show anything we need an MRI.”

But I said this was a mental health post.

I feel defeated.

I’ve been doing really well with going back to the gym and walking almost every night and today I went to the gym and I feel like I’m paying for it.

The gym is a necessary component of my self care.  It is a necessary component of my mental health care, right up there with meds and therapy.  And right now this hip pain is threatening my ability to access the gym.

I’m also catastrophizing a lot which isn’t helping me deal with the pain as it is right now.  I’m so used to being dismissed when I talk to doctors about my pain, that I’m already seeing a scenario where I have to learn to live around this intense pain.  I’m already imagining what life will be like if this has to become my new normal.

I mean, I just went through this with back pain.  They sent me to a few months of physical therapy, no imaging was done, and when that didn’t help I was told it was just back pain, it was normal, especially in someone my size, and I’d just have to learn to deal with it.  Keep going to the gym, keep doing what I’m doing.  It’s all that can be done, really.

I’m just a fat crazy woman who is exaggerating.

And even writing this I feel like I’m whining.

But I feel defeated.  I don’t even know what’s wrong and I’d almost rather lay down and die then go fight the doctors to get proper treatment that I know I won’t get anyway.

Pain definitely takes a toll on my mental health.  I’m tired of it.

I’m tired.

Bouncy Bouncy Bouncy

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

Parker had a tattoo of Tigger on her calf.  I can almost see it but not quite, one of many images of her that are in the back of my mind but I can’t quite recall them.  Kinda pisses me off, kinda hurts.  I remember she wanted an Eeyore on the other side to make up the bipolar set.

I’ve been a productive little T-I-double guh-er the last few days as I’ve left depression land and moved into hypomania town.  I swear I’m getting whiplash from all this shit.

I didn’t overspend this time, I did clean most of the house (including some areas that hadn’t been cleaned in a year), rip down some of the wall decorations (vinyl stuff) wash the walls from it, frame and put up tons of pictures, make a bunch of vinyl stuff with the Cameo and play around with it more, plus stay caught up with school.

Not bad considering that Thursday I was fighting asshole brain just to stay alive.

The one nice thing about bouncing from depressed right into hypomania is that it lets me catch back up on all of the things I fell behind on.

Now I’m kinda sitting and looking around going “What’s next?”  I want to keep going but I’m out of things to do for the moment.

I saw my pdoc last week.  We didn’t really change much, but since I refilled my meds I can take the higher dose of Abilify which in theory should keep the suicidal thoughts quiet, and should keep the mania toned down.  We shall see.  She also ordered blood work (which I actually went and did, go me with the adulting) to see if my Lamictal (mood stabilizer) is at the right dose.  If it isn’t, we’ll adjust it.  If it is, we’re going to consider adding another one.

Because I totally need another pill bottle in my, already full, gallon sized, ziploc bag.

But if it helps stop this bipolar coaster I’ve been on, then it’s worth it.

Round and round and up and down.

Bouncy trouncy
Bouncy pouncy
Fun fun fun fun fun!

Someone slow my brain down please?

The good kind of boring.

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I’m not really sure how many days it’s been since my last post.

Only a day or two, I guess, but it feels much longer than that.  I’m on more solid ground again, can’t even believe that I was so low, so recently.

Today I officiated at a derby bout and there were a few people who asked how I was doing, then, when I said I was doing good, they gave me that look.  That look like, “What aren’t you telling us?”

I don’t exactly understand it either, two days ago my brain was trying to kill me.  Two days ago walking out into traffic seemed like a perfectly logical plan.  And now, I’m fine.  Nothing has changed.  No medication changes, no major life changes, nothing.

Welcome to life with mental illness.  Don’t like what’s on the mood channel?  Wait a few minutes, it’ll change!

Except it doesn’t always happen that way.

Sometimes, you really want it to change and it doesn’t.  Sometimes, you really want it to stay where it is, and it changes.  Sometimes, you are intensely suicidal one day, and then back to boring old mixed mood symptoms the next.

I’m happy with this kind of boring.  This is the good kind of boring.

The dishes are piling up in the sink because I’m pushing hard enough to find the motivation to cook, but I’m having a hard time finding the motivation to clean up afterwards.

I’m okay with that.

I’m getting hyperfocused on projects that take me all day, and then looking for the next project, and the next, and I must do all of the things.

I’m okay with that.

My sleep is either too much or too little.

I’m okay with that.

I’m still struggling to stick to a budget and I really can explain exactly why it’s perfectly logical for me to buy everything.

I’m okay with that.

I have to talk myself into showering and even brushing my teeth.

I’m okay with that.

I haven’t been to the gym in 2 weeks or more.

I’m not really okay with that, but I’m not ready to change it either.

This is the good kind of boring.  This is the kind of boring that isn’t trying to kill me.

I see my pdoc on Tuesday and I’m sure we’ll talk about all of this.  I have a nice, month worth of notes for her.  I have no idea if we’ll change medications or not, but at least we can talk about what options there are and if we want to consider changing something.  Some of this isn’t really fixable.  Unfortunately, some of this is just riding it out, weathering the storm, and using my skills to make the best of it.

This is the good kind of boring, though.  I’ll take it.



Zoom Zoom

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I wish I could take a side step off of this roller coaster and just settle.

Wheeeeeeeee.  I’m up high.

I was driving last night and my anxiety was through the roof.  Every time another car came near me I was seeing the impending accident.  It’s not all that often that I get to drive, and normally I love it, but last night was just terrifying.  Luckily it was late enough that there weren’t many cars on the road and I only had to focus on my own anxiety about the car blowing up or a tire blowing or something happening to cause me to have an accident by myself.

I didn’t go to bed till after 5:30 in the morning.  Just couldn’t stop.

Unfortunately I can’t get wrapped up into productive things like cleaning the house, which would be nice right now after a week of depression, instead I’m crafting and making more of a mess.  But I’m having fun and making really cool things, so there’s that.

My brain is going a million miles a second and my urge is to drink coffee and take my ADHD meds and stay awake and focused and keep going going going, but I also know that it is an incredibly bad idea to do such things so I’m avoiding coffee (WHAT!?!) and my ADHD meds until I float back down.

I’m hoping I don’t just suddenly crash.

I also wonder how much of this is a mixed episode (and why do I even care, it is just exactly what it is) because my body image issues are still there this time.

I’m not getting comments about my “amazing energy” from strangers and those comments are always a sure sign that I’m going manic.  I’m still pretty withdrawn and not interacting with people on the street and in stores so I’ve probably got a pretty good lid on it.

It’s probably just more mixed episode.  At least the suicidal thoughts are gone for now.

But my thoughts are going zoom zoom all over my brain.  I feel like there’s an interrogation light in my skull and shining onto the back of my eyes and like the bright light is shining out everywhere and everyone can see.  Not literally, but I just feel like I’m radiating, something.  Like I’m vibrating with the number of thoughts that are pinging around all over the place.

And they are dying to get out, I want to talk about them but I can’t organize them enough to get them into the air.

And I want to buy all of the things.  I NEED to buy all of the things, Right, Now.

And I have really good reasons for wanting all of the things Right Now.  And they make perfect sense in my head.  But they probably don’t make actual sense in the long run and sometimes it’s so hard to understand how something can seem so clear and true right now, but once this neurotransmitter induced high wears off it will seem so dumb.

I have to live with any of the decisions I make now, even once I come back down.

Mania seems like so much fun from the outside.  But from the inside, it’s just a different kind of mental illness hell.

Soul Sucking Sadness

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

Trigger Warning:  Suicidal Thoughts

It is amazing how quickly I go from “eh, I’m having a bit of a rough time, but things are pretty good.” to “Holy shit, I’m in over my head and my thoughts are scaring me.”

adult alone backlit black and white

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


It’s hard to believe that 5 days ago I was proposing to my future wife and today I’m thinking about ending my life.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m mostly safe.  I know the thoughts are just thoughts and I’m able to let them pass through without acting on them, but sometimes they’re getting awful loud.

I am supposed to be away at a conference today and tomorrow.  Was supposed to leave a few hours ago.  The school paid for my ticket and lodging and I was going to ride up with Batwoman.  I was really looking forward to the topic and the discussions that I’d be a part of.  But my anxiety kicked in so badly that I just couldn’t go.  I started looking for any escape to avoid it, including the idea of death and that’s when I realized I just needed to give myself permission to cancel.

It fucking sucks though, because I wanted to be there, and on top of that I’m letting people down by not going.  Batwoman got stuck going alone and dealing with her own anxiety, and the school is out the money they paid for my ticket, and there are probably people who wanted to go and couldn’t because I said I was going and now I didn’t.

It’s one of those times where taking care of myself and doing what I knew I had to do makes me feel like a total fuck up.  One of those times where my mental health feels like it has total control of me and like I’ll never really get control of it.

I cancelled going to Roller Derby last night as well, for the same reason.  My anxiety is out of control.  I’m not quite to the point where I can’t leave the house, but anything having to do with crowds of people and the thought of it makes me want to recoil.  Normally I can push past it, but right now it just feels like too much.  The thought of pushing beyond the anxiety makes me literally suicidal.

If I’m dead I don’t have to deal with this anxious bullshit.

If I’m dead I don’t have to keep letting people down.

If I’m dead I don’t have to keep fighting my own brain just to live an average life.

If I’m dead I don’t have to worry about becoming home bound again.

If I’m dead I don’t have to worry.

Wonder Woman is going out of town for the weekend and I’ve already played out the fact that it would be two days before anyone found me.

Of course I immediately chastised myself for even having those thoughts, but they’re there.  What good is it beating myself up for thoughts, I just let them pass through, but this is what it’s like in my head when it gets dark up there.

So, I take more of the medication that I’m supposed to increase when this stuff happens.  I get myself out of bed early and make myself do the dishes and follow some sort of routine.  I sit down and write and shine some light into all of the dark spaces.

And I hold on.

Hold on.

Hold on.

Round and Round We Go!

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

TW: Mention of Suicidal Thoughts.

I’ve had nothing to write about, really.  But the longer I go without writing, the less I want to write, and the more I know I need to write.

I had a great day Sunday.  An all day date, of sorts, with Wonder Woman, doing all of the things.  An amazing breakfast, good coffee, walking around Annapolis, and dinner at The Melting Pot.  One of those days that you want to never end.

But it did.

And I woke up this morning and didn’t want to get out of bed.  Eventually, I crawled out of bed, late, and went to the gym, late.  And when I got back home I climbed right back into bed.

I crawled back out twice, convincing myself that I had to find something to occupy my time so that I didn’t waste my day away under the covers, but each time I crawled back under, turned off the lights, and rolled over.

The entire time I was beating myself up for how useless I was.  And beating myself up over how useless it was to beat myself up.

Finally the suicidal thoughts started creeping in slowly and I rode that wave for a few minutes before they dissipated.  If I’m always going to end up stuck in bed again, what’s the point of being alive.

Days like Sunday are the point of being alive.  Now, Shut.  The Fuck.  Up.

The thing is, I’m really in a good place mostly, or I should be.  I’m doing all of the right things, I’m taking my meds, I’m getting sun and water and food, and I’m exercising.

Cooperate brain, cooperate.

Eventually I crawled out of bed for good.  I did some of the weekly stuff that I never got to this morning, I drank coffee, I freshened the color on my hair, I started dinner.

I know that when I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, it’s typically a sign that the day is going to be rough with depression, so I’m hoping tomorrow morning goes better.