Saturday, October 8, 2011
Scraping Up Some Hope
I feel hopeless today. It is a horrible day. Well I feel horrible anyway. It should be a great day. I am taking Victorya to celebrate her upcoming 4th birthday at the Circus! Yay!! WEE!!! THE CIRCUS! ...nope not exactly. I am overwhelmed by so much internal chaos and anxiety, and I feel very depressed. I couldn't get up with Victorya early this morning. I kept her in bed with me watching cartoons until we fell back asleep and slept in until 10:30. I made it to the store because we had no food and my SIL needed to trade foodstamps for cash because they are living in a hotel and couldn't pay the room. I remember being in that predicament. It was so horrible and hard to get out of. I should be able to feel some relief that I am not there any more, right?
I don't know what I feel. I feel like I am sinking. I feel like a failure. I don't know the black and white of my condition anymore. I guess that is what medicated bi-polar looks like. Everything's grey because the medications take away the black and white. At least I think that's how its supposed to work. I feel like I have only lost my mania and I am still incredibly depressed. I guess I am in the black hole of depression, no grey, no white. I am trying so hard to understand how to get out. I need help, but the things I am doing aren't helping. Meds aren't helping. Counseling isn't helping. I missed my counseling appointment this week because some drama with my daughter came up, and I got side tracked and forgot the appointment. Tells you how stable I am.
There is a recurrent theme that Destin's and my counselor keep insisting on : Sleep, diet, and exercise are key in recovering from anything. I dont feel like eating or exercising and all I want to do is sleep. I never feel rested. I never have energy. I am still in mourning for being manic. I find myself praying before bed that I could just have one good manic phase to help me get everything done that I am behind on. I was superwoman and could handle everything when I was manic. Now I can barely make it to the computer.
Here are the things I am still getting done, although a little slow/late sometimes: Getting Victorya to school, keeping house picked up, but not as clean as usual, making dinner and cleaning up the kitchen after words (kids do dishes that fit in dishwasher), mine and Bryson's, and Victorya's laundry (slow, last minute), getting kids to all of their appointments, paying the bills. The problem is, I am struggling to get all of those things done. Each one is like facing up to my worst fear. Its like going on stage. I have panic build up and I sit paralyzed, sometimes until the last minute when I have to push myself, and then it takes all I have to get up and go. I feel panic when I am driving, when I am waiting in a waiting room, or sometimes for no reason at all and sometimes I can't breathe and it builds and builds until I cry. I have told both my Psychiatrist and my counselor and I get a lot more sympathy than I do solutions. I think Bryson is runing out of sympathy. He never had any solutions. The more I look at this, the more scared I get, as I realize I am probably not going to come out of this without a lot more agony. I am sick right now, yet somehow I need to be my own advocate and I have to fight to come out of this. I also need to fight because my kids need me. Destin has reported suicidal feelings all week. He has been falling asleep in class and the teachers are confused and don't know if its still his concussion or depression or? He needs an advocate too. Mentall illness isn't understood or accepted the way physical illness is. Part of my daily fears is that someone who is involved in our lives (counselor, school personnel, Dr.) is going to find me unfit to be taking care of the kids and is going to call social services. I have to get well. I have to, but I don't know how. I refuse to go down without a fight. I will keep taking what energy I have to scrape up some hope.