the year that I died

Things were already falling apart. I couldn’t tell you when it began, I just remember my therapist telling me at some point that I needed to see a psychiatrist. Why, because everything that I had buried so deep inside and chose to forget and other things that I didn’t know were there started pouring out of me and I couldn’t hold it together anymore. For a long time I refused to see a psychiatrist, I refused medication, I convinced myself that I was fine and that I could handle anything. Boy was I completely wrong. This was the second time it was happening but this time was a lot worse than the first.

The first time this happened, I remember in 2012, I sought out professional help because the things that I had buried deep inside and had chosen to forget had started to surface and I didn’t know what to do about it. I found a therapist and we started working through my issues. I had a boyfriend at the time. He knew what I was dealing with and I think we became closer because the more he knew, the more I felt comfortable around him. My therapist at that time suggested that I see a psychiatrist and get on meds to help with the depression. I refused for a while. Then I said I’d give it a try. Not too long after, I ended up in the ER. I don’t know if it was because of the meds or just a really bad anxiety attack. I stopped the meds and I stopped going to the psychiatrist. At some point I thought things were getting better and I was healed, so I stopped therapy and now we end up to the beginning of this blog.

Fast forward a couple years later, obviously I found a new therapist because I was really really really depressed. No one had to tell me. I don’t remember when I started seeing her but since the beginning she had been suggesting meds. I remember complaining to my therapist saying that I would be in a perfectly good mood and be with good company and all of a sudden a wave of depression would hit me. So that’s what clinical depression is. I still refused the meds. My depression was getting worse, things from my past were resurfacing and there was no stopping them. At some point the suicidal thoughts became apparent. They’ve been there before but the urge was a lot stronger now.

Things just got worse from that point on. I started hearing voices and seeing things, seeing ghosts. I felt like someone was following me. I was always on edge. The suicidal urges were constantly knocking on my door. I’d have episodes where I would be talking to someone in person and the voices in my head would start to talk and say that they would harm the person that was with me. I was scared for the other person’s safety and I would cry and cry and try to run away but that person would tell me that there is no one there. I would continue to argue with them telling them to leave, but they never did. In the end, they calmed me down and I would snap back into reality. I had several episodes of that. I remember when I felt like the voices in my head were plotting against me, plotting my death. I remember telling my friend that I wouldn’t make it to my next birthday that year. I remember saying that many times. I remember having a dream where I was dead. I felt like I was already dead. The voices in my head told me to give all my account information to someone. They told me to write goodbye letters to certain people. They would tell me exactly how it would happen, the only thing left is for me to do it. One day I remember them saying, you know where the xacto knife is. I told my friend I wasn’t going to be at church that night. I went home. I starred at where my xacto knife was. I sat there for a while. I eventually got up and ran to my room crying and digging my fingers into the palms of my hands so that they wouldn’t do anything. My pastor and friend found me and took me to my pastor’s house that evening. That was only one incident. I didn’t tell my therapist about that.

In the middle of all this, I gave into my therapists’ wishes and started looking for a psychiatrist. I didn’t realize how hard it was to find one until I started looking. Some said they were not taking any new patients. Some said I wasn’t sick enough. Some asked why my family wasn’t driving me to my appointments? One said they couldn’t treat me and didn’t tell me why. Looking for a psychiatrist and the constant rejection drove my suicidal urges into overdrive. Being told that you are not sick enough according to text book? Just because I still have a job and live on my own, I’m not sick enough?!? I’m on the verge of ending my own life! Is that not sick enough for you?!?

Eventually I found a psychiatrist that would treat me. Eventually I told my family what was going on with me. It wasn’t until September 2016 that I was officially diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder and started treatment. It’s been two years and many changes in medication since then. I think my psychiatrist has finally found what they call the “cocktail” of medication so that I could function normally. It’s been working well the past few months, I hope it keeps going and not have to change again. Things have gotten a lot better. I don’t have hallucinations anymore. I don’t see things any more. I don’t hear voices anymore. I’ve fought to stay alive for this long and now am making plans for the future. I went through hell and back and now I get to live my life to it’s full potential. I’m alive and well and am really glad that the meds are working. All I can do now is look towards the future.

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i beat you to it

I meet a guy. We go out on a few dates, talk/text and obviously like each other. Then things get start to get rocky on my end, personal stuff, I have another episode. I end up leaving the guy in the dark because I don’t want to talk about it. In a day or two I say goodbye to the person and send them on their way because I want to be fair to them. I don’t want to leave them hanging and feel helpless because I won’t let them into my mess. And we’re back to shutting people out. Damn, I’m getting really good at this!

First of all, I want to be fair to them. I don’t know how long my episode(s) will last and each time it’s different. They will just be left in the dark because I don’t want to talk about it, especially because I barely know them. They will end up feeling helpless because they want to help but don’t know how. Not their fault. At the same time, I’m dealing with this episode and it’s consuming me and the last thing I want to have to worry about is entertaining this guy every now and then so he knows that I’m alive. The last thing you want to worry about when you’re depressed is another person. I don’t mean to be cold, but it’s true.

Second, I don’t want to have to explain myself for anything that happens. Why this or why that? Things that are out of my control. I don’t want to have to explain for you to understand. I don’t want to have to repeat what I’ve told others already… It’s exhausting just hearing about it and I don’t want to bore you or make you worry. I barely know you.

Third, I think that I am too much to handle. I come with a lot of baggage. I’m a huge complicated mess. I’m a lot to deal with. A person can say that they can handle it right now, but what about later down the road? Years later? How will you feel then? I don’t want to be a burden to anyone and I certainly don’t want them to resent me for what I end up putting them through because of my situation. So I beat them to the punch, I leave before any harm can be done. I leave before I could cause them any pain. I leave before they could cause me any pain.

It will be hard for any guy to come into my life because of this. You would have to be really really special to get past my walls. For me to talk to you about what I go through in my darkest moments will be your ticket in. Good Luck! and good luck to me if I ever find that guy that I will actually let into my life.

I’m just a little “Unwell”

I was driving home today and heard the song “Unwell” by Rob Thomas. It got me thinking about how much it reflects on how I feel sometimes. I have this thing, Schizoaffective Disorder, that I’ve kinda talked about on here but have a hard time talking about in person. This song kinda helps give me a voice in this saying that I have this thing… “but I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell…” People tell me, “you don’t seem like it.” Well, “I know right now you can’t tell, but stay a while and maybe then you’ll see a different side of me. I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired… but soon enough you’re gonna think of me and how I used to be, me.” I know it’s hard for people to listen to what I have to say sometimes because I know how scary it is. To hear the things that I have to say, from someone you love, something so heartbreaking that you wouldn’t believe that I would say those things. I’m still me, I just have this other side to me. I know it’s a little scary, but if you stay a while and maybe you’ll see that it’s not as bad as it may seem. And maybe if I let you stay a while, then maybe I’ll see a different side of you and you may not be as bad as I think it may seem.

In the word of Rob Thomas’ song “Unwell”

But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be, me

meds, moods and life

So my meds are working, so it seems. I’ve gone a little over two months without a depressive episode. I have to wait a few more months to make sure they are really working, but for right now, they are. I have yet to pass the 6 month mark on changing my meds, then I know they REALLY are working. I do feel the difference. I’ve mentioned it several times before.

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With my meds working and me getting better, I notice something else… my mind isn’t as active, there are no thoughts that are constantly running through my mind, my imagination isn’t running a muck and my creativity is just dead. I find it harder to write, to put thoughts into words and I get writer’s block all the time! It seems like when I’m down in the dumps, everything just comes pouring out of me and there is no way to stop it and when I’m better, not even a drop of imagination comes out. I’m not saying that I want to be down in the dumps so I could write and do other stuff, it’s just an observation that I’ve noticed with all of this stuff going on with me. At the same time, I wait for life events to happen to spark any emotion out of me. I guess it has to do with the meds leveling out my moods. Not that I blame them, they are helping me handle my depression and other stuff. Maybe the real me is finally coming out after all these years, buried under this facade that I’ve created to hide from the world or maybe it really is the meds. I know that without the meds, I am this quirky, clumsy, somewhat nerdy, adventurous, sometimes careless girl that skips around life making it as simple as possible but attempting to make it fun at the same time. And right now I’m just on an even playing field with no mountains to climb or planes to jump out of and nothing to write about, really.

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But that is the challenge, right? To pull something out of nothing. To be creative without your fuel source to bring things to light. That’s when real creativity comes in. When you are your true self and you can create something wonderful. I would like to be able to write and be creative without being down in the dumps or some sort of life event happening. I don’t want to rely on my emotions to get my gears working. Is it the same thing as finding inspiration in anything that comes your way? Whatever it is, I want to be able to keep going no matter what mood I’m in. At the same time, I have to find that me again. The one that likes to go out on adventures and explore life to its full extent and not let anything stop me, including my meds. First it was a battle with my emotions and getting a handle on them, now it’s a battle with what moods my meds get me into. Will I ever be happy? (Rhetorical question).

Hawaii is a less than a week away and I am excited! I’ll probly have lots to write about considering all the adventures we’re going to have from riding ATV’s, zip lining, snorkeling and jumping off a 40′ cliff into the ocean. But then what happens after that? Life goes back to normal. Back to the same daily routine day after day until the next adventure I guess? That’s the thing, how can we make everyday life more interesting? I know there are so many things that I could do but, and I’m not making this an excuse but she is one of my priorities, I gotta take Mochi to the park everyday and let her mingle with her doggie friends. I want to do that for her. So with that being said, that makes my schedule a little more difficult to navigate. I can’t do anything til after 7pm. I’m not trying to put a downer on life, like everyone else, I just have to find a healthy balance. I’m sure there are plenty of things that I could do after 7pm, I just have to find them.

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Well I’m off to Hawaii on Friday… maybe I’ll write while I’m there, maybe I won’t. So if anything, I’ll write when I get back. Aloha!

 

Am I okay with God now?

So I’ve been angry with God for some time now and yes I will say that yea, I did turn my back on him. I lost my faith in God. I lost all trust in God. I stopped looking to God for answers to any of my problems when he was the source of all my answers before. I was angry at God for giving me this thing that turned my whole world upside down. That I feel like I can’t handle it. I still feel like I’m too weak to face this thing alone. I always thought, I think about killing myself day in and day out, where is God in that? Every waking moment, that was all I thought about, but God was nowhere to be found. I prayed. I prayed hard and long until I couldn’t pray anymore for God to take it back. Take it all back, I can’t do this. And yet, no answer. I did the only thing I thought there was left to do, and so I turned my back on God.

It’s been a year and a half and I still have this thing, it hasn’t gone away. God hasn’t taken it back. I think I’m getting better. Less and less depressive episodes. Thoughts of suicide are still there, but they are just there. I know this all sounds too familiar because I had a similar post not too long ago, but there is more to it than that. This time is a bit different.

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Lately, God has been popping up in my mind. I feel guilty every time my friend mentions that he is going to church, like something is tugging at me, at my heart. I haven’t gone to church in about a year and a half. For some people, that really isn’t a long time, but for someone who used to love to go to church and devoted all of their time to church, that is a lifetime. I’m not saying I’m going back to church just yet, I’m just saying that there is something tugging at my heart. Besides, I really think that your relationship with God is in your heart, you don’t need a church to tell you to talk to him.

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One of my older posts I said that God was just waiting for me to come back to him. Well, I think, this is where it starts. I read back some of my old journals and all I talk about is how much God was in my life. I turned to God for every little thing, every little problem, every thought good or bad and he would always have an answer. I strayed away a little, but everyone does at some point, we just have to find our way back. Even before, there were several times where I lost my way but eventually came back. I’m still angry with God. We’re allowed to be angry right? Why not? We’re allowed to question him too, right? Even though I still have this thing, maybe I can reason with him? Maybe I’ll learn to accept what he has given me. Maybe I’ll learn to live with it and get around it. Maybe he is helping me and I’m just too caught up in this thing to even realize it. And maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of the continuation of the relationship that I once had with God. Maybe even better?

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asking for help

I’m in my in between world again. Not up or down. Just somewhere in between where I really don’t feel anything. My natural high has dissipated like a balloon deflating back to just a piece of latex. I feel like a dead weight. Maybe it’s time to go back to therapy. I stopped going to therapy back in January because things seemed to be going really well but a lot has happened since then that I never really talked about so everything got bottled up and now I feel like I’m going to explode. Maybe this is why I’ve been getting a whole lot of chest pains. 4 months of a roller coaster of a life being stuffed in a tiny itty bitty space just waiting to come spewing out like a volcano. Wait, I haven’t gone to therapy yet. Hold your breath. Screw the cap back on. I have to get an appointment first. But for right now, I just feel drained. I feel like the life got sucked out of me. I’ve been holding my breath for 4 months and I need to let it out. Why did I ever think that everything would be okay after I stopped going to therapy? Of course bad things would happen. I don’t live in a perfect world, who does? I feel like I can’t get a grip on anything. Everything is falling through the cracks. You throw something against the wall and it shatters to a million pieces as it scatters all over the floor and you don’t know what to do with it. I can give you many more analogies but it’s all going to end up the same. I’m just sitting on the floor and the world is spinning around me with no means to an end. Can I hit the pause button please and rewind a little then tread lightly over the course of 4 months? Of course not. Only if I could go back in time.

Life isn’t easy. Anyone can say that. We all have our problems and we all deal with them differently. Sometimes we just have to know when to ask for help. For a long time, I refused it. I said, I can take on anything. Give me what you’ve got. And I gotta tell ya, it knocked me on my ass pretty damn hard, and that’s saying it lightly. Fortunately, I learned to give up my pride and now I know when to ask for help. And you know what? It is definitely okay to ask for help! It is okay to not be okay! No one is perfect. No life is perfect. We all need our shoulder to cry on.

my saving grace

I took the day off today… for two reasons. One, I didn’t feel like going to work and two, I was feeling depressed. I definitely needed it. Work is not crazy but it’s not busy either. I slept in til 11am and then went to lunch with my cousin. Went home and took Mochi to the park.

It seems my depression has been getting worse. This is the 3rd time that I’ve gone home or stayed home from work because of it. It seems like I have depressive episodes every week. My doctor changed my medication again but this time they have to increase the dosage slowly and the effects will happen in the span of a couple of months. That scares me! If my depression is already getting bad, I don’t want it to get any worse waiting, months for the right dosage, for the medication to work. I wish I could say that I was getting better, that the medicine is working and I’m on the road to recovery. Well kinda but not really. I’m afraid of what’s to come in the next month or two. I’m afraid of how bad it might get. I still wish that all of this never happened. I get tired of going through the same thing month after month. Taking medicine day after day waiting for something to work. I hate being asked if I have suicidal thoughts, if I have a plan, and what am I going to do? Knowing full well that there is a definite answer to that scares the SHIT out of me! I know what I am capable of. But, in the back of my mind, I really really really don’t want to die! Even though sometimes I do. Maybe that will be my saving grace. That thought alone will keep me from pulling it off. That thought alone will fight my other half to stay alive. Maybe if I’m fighting for someone else and not just me, that will stop me. Maybe that support that I get from someone is enough to pull me out and get me through this mess. That too will be my saving grace. That has to be enough. There is still that glimmer of hope that I will get through all of this even though half the time I’m skeptical about it. C’est la vie.