8 posts tagged “depression”

I'm depressed today. :-(

I think it's the stress of putting more into something than you are getting in return.  Of course not everything in the world is always divided equitably, but at some point it's not so great when you're always the person who comes up short in the end.  Steve is spending most of my awake-time sleeping, which means I'm alone most of the time.  Yesterday he woke up at 3:30.  I was gone for over 3 hours yesterday and he never even knew.

I know that he cares, and I know he doesn't want to intentionally hurt me.  But I just don't know what the hell is his problem... is there something wrong with me?  I feel unwanted and rejected.

Lately, I wake up most mornings and berate myself for not swallowing all my pills the night before.  The way I feel is horrible, I just want it to go away.  I'm so tired.

I think that I may in fact be the most self-absorbed person in the world, and in spite of feeling kind of guilty about it, I can't seem to help myself.  I just want to wallow in my own self-pity and have an audience surround me, enthralled by the various trials of my life.

I fell off the Weight Watchers wagon.  I gained 6 lbs.  I feel like a fat, disgusting excuse for a human being, even in the pretty new bra and underwear that I bought myself yesterday in an attempt to feel less fat and disgusting.

I alternately miss and hate my parents.

I have a wonderful vocabulary and a good sense of humor.  I have a sincere laugh.  I slide into friendships easily.  I am loyal.  I am well-read in a variety of subjects.  I love Faulkner and Hesse.  I like philosophy.  I am extremely intelligent.

I am also horribly depressed.  I use people and then throw them away because I need to get rid of them before they get rid of me.  I am burdensome.  I get angry at inappropriate times and often refuse to say that I'm sorry, even when I know I'm wrong.  I can't seem to do anything with my life.  I have dropped out of college twice.

I blame a lot of things on my condition.  Sometimes I'm afraid that it's not a disorder, and that everything bad is my real personality and all the good things are a complete fake.

I don't think anybody but my pets will ever truly love me and forgive me for all the bad things.

Xiao Wen came home.  Earlier today I took a nap with Wendy and Paxil.  I take joy in the fact that Maybel tolerates other people but genuinely likes me.

Maybel and I have been together for 8 years.  My relationship with her is the best relationship I have ever had, period.

Steve said that we should move to his place when my house gets foreclosed.  Maybe he's just humoring me, but I suspect I might end up doing it anyway.  I think I like him more than he likes me.

I'm so tired of being bipolar. :-(

Sometimes I wonder if that's really the "only" thing wrong with me.  Every time I head to a psychology appointment, I resolve to ask my doctor if he thinks there's some other issue at play.  But I never actually seem to ask him.  I sneak peeks at the chart my psychiatrist keeps on me, hoping for some additional diagnosis code.  I want some kind of explanation for the way I feel, and for why I can't seem to get past it in life... if there's something else wrong then maybe there's hope I can address it?  I hate to think that I'm struggling so hard with only one condition.  I want to crawl in bed all day.  I want to cry.  I want to take my whole bottle of sleeping pills.  I want to cut myself.  I don't want to work anymore.  I don't want to think anymore.  I want to drive in one direction until I run out of fuel.  Then I want to keep walking until I can't walk anymore.  Then I just want to sleep.

I started hiding all the emotions again, the people around me don't see them.  But they're all still there and it eats away a little more every day.

So I'm a little late on my Christmas post.  Steve and I went to his parents house for the day, which was interesting because they are Jewish.  I never met anybody before who had converted to Judaism, which I have no problem with or anything, it's just kind of an odd occurrence.  We ate dinner next to a "Happy Hanukkah" banner, and our cups had little stars of David on them.

I think I made a good impression, at least.  His father and I had a discussion about environmental politics, and his mother and I talked about mental illness and the corresponding health care problems.  I'm not sure how I lucked out and got into conversations on topics I actually know about!  I also told Steve's mom that he was becoming a jobless bum.  I'm not really sure why I did that, in retrospect it's kind of a betrayal of him.  Oh well, maybe she'll give him shit about it in a way that I can't... I'm just a (girl)friend, but that's his MOM.

I was really depressed about Christmas in general so I'm extremely glad it's over.  Now I've got different things to be depressed about, but at least it's not all at the same time.

Steve and I had an interesting conversation yesterday morning that kind of turned into a passive-aggressive non-fight.  He said that he'll be going back to Merritt Island.  I've heard that before, of course, but this wasn't said amidst being pissed off.  He was very matter-of-fact about it all, said that he never had any intentions of staying in Jacksonville.  I asked why he came at all... he said he likes it here.  So why leave?  Apparently because that's his home.

My next obvious question... what about ME?  He didn't have any good answer there.  I brought up the fact that I sort of need to know what he is doing so that I know what *I* am doing.  His response was that I haven't known him long enough, and I should do what I want without taking him into account.  But... but... I want to take you into account.  Well you shouldn't.  What the hell is his problem.  I kept pressuring him to just explain himself, to tell me what he WANTS out of this situation, out of everything in general.  "I want you to stop hassling me!"  I stormed out and went to work.

I got home... he acted like nothing happened.  Does he have some kind of underlying emotional life that he's having trouble revealing, or is he really just this much of a dickhead?  It's probably somewhere in between the two.

Incidentally, I've been depressed and haven't really eaten in two days.  I slept 3 hours last night and 4 hours the night before.  I'm ready to feel better, why is it taking so damn long...

At least there's one positive, I passed my certification exam so I am now a nationally certified pharmacy technician.  I'm getting a merit raise at work in the middle of January (I'll be going from a meager sum to a meager sum plus $.31, can't go any higher because my rate is capped), and then after that I'll turn in my certification paperwork to get another raise, plus to get reimbursed for my $129 test fee.  I could really use any extra money at all, mid-January needs to hurry the hell up and get here.

I hate Christmas.  Hate it.  With a fucking passion.

I've always gotten depressed around this time of year (even when I was hiding it really well) because other people have families and I don't.  Even before I finally got rid of the people I am sadly related to, it was always hard because I've just never felt this warm, fuzzy, come-home feeling that others seem so frequently to exhibit.  I used to spend so much time looking for and finding the PERFECT gifts for everyone that I know in an attempt to make them happy, and I realize now that it was only because I want to give people the thing in my life that I am lacking.  We instinctively give others what we want to receive for ourselves.

I didn't buy a single Christmas present this year.  It's not just that I don't have any money (which I don't anyhow) but I also don't have anybody I really love for whom I should expend the effort.  That's pretty pathetic.  I'm 28 years old and I don't even have those kind of relationships.  I guess I could get something for Steve, or at least I could if I wasn't worried about paying my electric bill, but that would just be awkward because I know that he has absolutely no intention of ever doing such a thing for me.  It's not that he doesn't like me reasonably well or something, it's only that it would positively never occur to him that extending such a gesture would be nice, or even appropriate.  He doesn't think about other people in the way that most people do.  That's pretty depressing too.  I have a boyfriend (I use the term loosely) who only stays here because, I think, he doesn't have a job and we get along most of the time.  Which is probably only because I'm scared to be completely alone, so most of the time I just keep my mouth shut about the things he does which hurt me so much.

We had a big fight yesterday because he still hasn't filed for unemployment.  I asked him why didn't he care, doesn't it bother him that I am totally supporting us (and not even that well since this morning he had ramen noodles for breakfast and I didn't have anything because there's no food)... I asked if he was only going to start caring when I didn't have enough money to pay for the internet connection.  For his cigarettes, his FFXI account, his beer.  He said he was leaving.  I told him it's not that I want him to leave, I just want him to care.  That's probably asking too much if I want to go ahead and be realistic with myself.  Steve will never care about anyone else as much as he cares about Steve.

He says it's not any of his business if I lose my house, because he's not the one who made the decisions that got me here in the first place.  I don't care, I'm going to try and keep it anyways.  Once my pharmacy tech certification goes through, I'm going to try and get a second job.  If Steve doesn't get unemployment, he's going to have to leave so I can get a paying roommate.  I probably will still lose everything, but at least I can try.  I don't want to just sit back and let life happen to me.  At some point, I have to happen too.

I really hope I can survive until January.  Well, hope is kind of a strong word.  It's more that I idly wonder.  The suicidal ideation is getting bad and I've found myself devising schemes to find homes for my cats, who are really the only reason I haven't killed myself yet anyway.  They're the only living beings who love me and I don't want to let them down.  My psychologist is having me come in on Christmas Eve because he's concerned about my mental state.

I am, too.  But it hurts so bad that I just can't seem to care.  There is not enough medication in the world to make this go away.

Putting the house up for sale is progressing... I've got a very nice realtor named Jennifer, she came over and checked out the house and gave me a TON of papers for Kenny and me to sign.  I faxed them to her already and her next step is to come and take pictures of the house so she can put it online... although honestly I think it's got a better chance of selling if it's NOT photographed!  Kind of a mess right now, I had gotten to the point where I was cleaning regularly (still am) but stuff has been getting pulled out left and right, I'm starting to put stuff in boxes and Kenny has been systematically getting his things out too.  I was having a hard time sorting through my stuff vs. Kenny's stuff, so I started keeping one box just to put his things in (as I pack my own stuff), probably easier for both him and me.  In a way I want the house to sell quickly so that I can figure out what I'm doing next, but at the same time I really love it here... I'm sad to leave it... and I'm broke.

It's becoming apparent that it is NOT safe for me to live on my own right now.  I've started to to spend just 24 hour periods in states of depression, normalcy, hypomania.  The depression is leading to mild self-injury, but the hypomania is bad bad bad... day before yesterday I was pacing and crying and couldn't get myself calmed down, the result of which being I cut myself at least 40 times.  I didn't realize it was so much until the next day when I saw all the marks and tried to count them... at 40 I gave up.  It's pretty painful.  Even when I'm level-headed, it's very difficult to remain calm and not get stressed out.  When I checked my mail on Monday morning there was $1400 in medical bills calmly waiting for me to find them.  $1400.  That is a lot of fucking money.  Some of it was probably billed incorrectly to my insurance, so I made a stack of the 7 bills in order of most to least expensive.  I tried to call on the first one, after 15 minutes on hold I gave up and moved on to the second.  That one said I needed to talk to my insurance company, so I called BCBS, who said they want my other insurance to pay instead.  I explained to them (again) that I don't have any other insurance... so the representative transferred me to another department to fix it... and of course that department was closed for a meeting.  "Thanks, try us tomorrow!"  I'm always worried that when tomorrow comes, I won't have the presence of mind to call and argue over billing; I'll just get overwhelmed and throw them all in the trash.

The realization that it's very possible I'll default on all these bills hits me... and then I realize that if I don't come up with some way to pay, I'll lose access to medical care... which means I can't get any more prescriptions... which means I'll end up dead.  I don't mean to be melodramatic but it's a very real possibility, when I cut myself this last time I was trying to go deep and find veins that would bleed more, was even holding them under running water.  Fortunately I suck at targeting when I am that agitated, and anyway I only cut my legs and there's not much damage I can do there.

So, as for where I'm going to live.  A random roommate is not a realistic possibility, it's too likely that I'll have more and more episodes over the next few months and I can't see that leading to a functional cohabitative relationship with some person I don't know.  I have one option of a place to stay but I really don't think it's a good idea, yet I can't come up with another solution to my problem.  I think I'll be able to live on my own eventually, it's just that NOW is not going to work.  I can't get my condition under control because of all the stress I'm under, I can't cope with the stress because of my condition, and if one or the other doesn't improve I'm going to end up living in my car.  Steve promised me that if anything happens to me (hospitalization, suicide, whatever) then he will contact my vet and ask them to find homes for my cats.  At least that is some relief because I genuinely worry about their welfare.  Steve is coming to visit this Friday, I think he wants to check on me after I called him in the middle of the night and spent a good 2 hours sobbing on the phone.  He knows all my fears of abandonment (which are constantly validated by the fact that everyone leaves me eventually) and my general terror over life in general but does his best to be a comforting friend.  He always assures me that he will be reliable for me, that he's my friend today and he'll still be my friend tomorrow and every other day.  It's such a nice idea and I want to believe it, but I still don't.  Even so, I believe that he means it when he says it, and that's some reassurance in itself.

When I explain that to my psychologist he says "oh really?" and then starts making lots of notes on his legal pad.  I wonder what he writes down about me.  Dr.Moreland (the psychologist) thinks that I don't need therapy every week, preferably every other but I had to go to once every 3 weeks since I can't afford the $35 copay.  He told me that what I need is a "third party monitor" in my life, that if I have to report to someone who can remain objective it will help me think my actions through more (even after the fact) and hopefully keep me on the right track, or help me avoid destroying things around me.  I feel better after the therapy, I wish I could go more often but such is life.

Speaking of affording my copays, I'm going to try really hard to be on time to work today.  I have 14 minutes to make it out of the house.

My doctor thinks that I'm still getting the anti-anxiety and anti-craziness benefit from Effexor, but that it's not quite controlling my mania and occasional terror.  So, I've been on Wellbutrin (in addition to the Effexor) for about a week now.  I really can't see any difference at all... I still feel like shit.  I know that there's no definites in mental health care and I might just have to keep trying new medicines until I find a combination that works for me, but still... it's disappointing to take a pill every day and feel like it's not benefiting you.  I could feel the differences of Effexor within about a week, but realistically I need to give the Wellbutrin about 3 weeks before I know if it's going to help.

I don't feel panicked any more, I just feel... irritable.  And stretched to the limit.  I keep finding myself in situations where I have to repeat "don't overreact!" in my head as a silent mantra.  It shouldn't be difficult to keep myself from yelling at everyone, and yet it is.  Seems like it's easier to be at work, where I already have an automatic 'behavior filter' in place to keep me from doing anything inappropriate.

Maybel has been more affectionate with me than usual - I'm sure it's just coincidental, but it's nice.  While I -do- believe that Maybel loves me, I really don't think she'd be all that concerned about my emotional state.  Her presence is really comforting though... Maybel was there back before I flipped out a few years ago, and she's kind of a reminder that I'll get through it eventually.  I have these strong parental feelings for her that I don't have for the other cats, probably because they get love from other people.  Maybel only has me, and I feel like I have to get normal so that I can take care of her properly.  I just reread that sentence, and it is freaking loopy.  I'm married, I own a house, I have a job... and the thing about my looming craziness that worries me most is my relationship with my cat.

Is this why my doctor wants me to go into therapy?  Probably.  That's kind of frightening too.  Just the phrase "cognitive therapy" makes it sound less like talking and more like electroshock.

I wanted to accomplish three things today... update the address on my driver's license, clean the catbox, and print our amended tax return from 2004.  I have done none of those things.  Instead I worked on my puzzle for awhile.  This is what makes me such a burden on Kenny... I'm fucking helpless and there seems to be no reason for it.  The bits of my brain that are supposed to get me up and moving don't seem to function anymore.  It took enormous effort just to go outside this morning and put out food for the squirrels.  I think that Kenny thinks I'm lazy, and how can I defend it?  I have no energy.  I can't seem to help much around the house.  If I could just muster up some motivation, I could do these things... the mere idea of it is kind of scary.  All the projects seem huge.  I just want to sit quietly and not think about anything - which is difficult when I keep having to berate myself for being such a tool.  How do I know I'm really suffering from mental illness?  It's horrid to think about, but what if I really AM such a lazy, useless excuse for a human being?  That's not what I want to be. :-(