At the End of All Things

I'll make it through, right? I can't seem to survive with medicine, but I can't seem to survive without it.

This was probably the 4th or 5th worst year of my life.

And I must be the worst wife and mother on the entire planet...

I am Barely Breathing
And I can't find the air
Don't know who I'm kidding
Imagining you care...

Merry Freaking Christmas.

Done with Depakote...

Well... the tiredness got to be too debilitating, the nausea and many other adverse reactions piled up, and then we got our medical bills... and I can't do it. I can't justify my life passing me by with the physical misery and lethargy and barely being able to keep my eyelids open. I'll... find another way. Somehow.

Going Fine

Everything's been going okay lately. A little depressed, extremely tired, but if that's all I have to suffer then I'm grateful. I was actually flirty with my husband while cooking dinner last night instead of being a deadened, lethargic glob of emotional wreck. I'm smiling a bit more. This... could be good.

Someone's Waiting For You

This song came into my head out of nowhere, and I can't shake it. It was one of my favorite Disney songs as a kid, and it's still one of my favorites today. It makes me feel a little more hopeful.



Be brave, little one
Make a wish for each sad little tear
Hold your head up though no one is near
Someone’s waiting for you

Don’t cry, little one
There’ll be a smile where a frown used to be
You’ll be part of the love that you see
Someone’s waiting for you

Always keep a little prayer in your pocket
And you’re sure to see the light
Soon there’ll be joy and happiness
And your little world will be bright

Have faith, little one
Till your hopes and your wishes come true
You must try to be brave, little one
Someone’s waiting to love you

Letter to God

Dear God,

You remember me, don't you? I'm the girl who used to spend an hour sitting in the clover patch looking for that one four-leaf-clover. The girl who used to chase the boys around the playground, then tackle and kiss them. Well, I'm having some problems, Lord.

You see, my body isn't working right anymore. I've been trying to be normal and happy, but my brain just won't let me, and the truth is... I'm too tired to keep it up. I've tried so hard for so long to keep inching ahead, to be at the same level as my friends and family, but I keep getting pushed back to the starting line. And now, with this tidal wave of psychiatric problems, I don't even know even know where the starting line is anymore.

I've almost always tried to do the right thing. I've tried to be kind to others, and I always tried to make amends when I had hurt people's feelings. I've tried to be a good wife and mother. But all the while I'm being bombarded and plagued with physical ailments that prevent me from living a happy, healthy, normal life.

I kept hoping every time I tried a new medication, or started an exercise routine, or went on a family trip, or started spending more time outdoors that I'd finally turned a new leaf, that things were starting to get better.

But I'm all out of hope. I'm clinging for dear life to my last shreds of faith and feel utterly lost.

I'm lost, Lord. Please help me, or I'll never find my way home.

Cheryl

What to Do With My Anger

I'm awake with anger, but at least I'm awake. It's a frightening and empowering feeling to feel awake from something you've always tried to suppress. But the sudden rage from all that's happening to me has filled me with fire. I'm so angry. So angry and ready for change. So furious about the the lingering, festering emotions and plaguing physical weaknesses. So frustrated that I of all people ended up having bipolar disorder. These waves of mania and utter despair ruined so much of my life. And this unquenchable thirst for retribution for the days I lost are inflaming every strain of thought penetrating my mind.

I'M SO ANGRY.

Transitions

Maybe it's just the transition between switching medicines. Perhaps it's that I've gotten so little sleep the past several days. Or maybe it's that depakote doesn't actually treat the depressive side of bipolar disorder. It's probably a mix between all three.

But I feel alone in this world. My husband helps me stay afloat, and God seems to rescue me when I'm at my breaking point, but it's the same circle of emotions over and over again. And I'm so tired. So tired of fighting for the energy and happiness that others seem to find so easily. So tired of blending into the pavement.

Medical problems, mental disorders, physical trials, financial stress. I'm dying with the music still inside me. Will I never have a chance to sing my song?

Insomnia

Switching Medicines is delicate business; I get that. But this is the fourth night in a row I haven't been able to sleep. I can't even take naps. This is driving me crazy.

UPDATE: I've included an illustration to help you understand the inner workings of my mind on nights like these... (Hooray)

 The Joys of Insomnia (... not really)

 And somehow I wake up alive the next morning... just to do it all again that very night. 

I must be magical. o.O

This Time, Two Years Ago

I wasn't always the crazy, ranting manic-depressed psycho girl you read about, and I won't always be. In about eighteen months I will probably be back to my quirky, normal self (hopefully sooner).

It just makes me think back and reflect on the last time I had zero emotional or physical problems. I felt fantastic, and life was full of promise. Ah, the days when I was 24...

Oh... and I was blonde. For roughly 6 months. It was fun... but ultimately too high maintenance for me.

My kids were 6 months old and 2 years old, and I was the cute, fun mom who looked pretty darn good for having 2 kids.

And we went camping, and hiking, and spent our time outdoors. It was the best.

Then one day I just got really tired. My whole body was exhausted. Was it because I'd started an intense workout program? ...Probably. Either way, I spent the next several months trying in vain to battle chronic fatigue, and I wasn't the fun mom and wife anymore, because my whole body was constantly pinned down by a heavy, weighted exhaustion.

By the time I began to recover from that I started having depressive episodes again. And I couldn't help but think... Really? Again? ...I'm so sick of being caged by irrational and unnatural emotions. I'm so tired of being tired.

But I suppose all I can do is hold on and wait it out. I don't want to let this trial conquer me. I want to be free.

Nine Years... Feels Like Yesterday

So here I am, listening to my old music from when I was seventeen, and I realize... It's been nine years. Where did the time go? Of course, over six of those years I've been married to my sweet husband. And over four of those years I've been a mom. But I have the same feelings, the same dreams. When did they fall by the wayside?

I know some of my aspirations will never happen. I remember the point when it was either pursue fame or have a family, and I'm happy I chose the latter. But I still want to feel like I matter in life. I want to make my mark in the world.

And I can't lie, it's difficult not to get down about it. I know my family is more important than all those other things, but every time I feel like I have the time or energy to begin pursuing one of my goals in life something bad happens. I feel like my body's crumbling. I'm getting older, less resilient. And yet, my mind is still on fire, yearning for greatness.

Don't worry... I'll get over it. I always do... *sigh*

The End of Lithium

I'm not taking lithium anymore. Apparently the internally asphyxiating dizziness, nausea, and seizure-like symptoms were bad... Who knew? My hands are still quite twitchy, and the nauseousness is still pretty bad. In fact, I still have all the symptoms, but I'm hoping they'll fade within a few days.

Oh well... Too Bad about the Lithium. It worked great for a while.
You know, until it started poisoning me....

And so begins the reign of Depakote.
May it be longer, healthier, and happier.

Like I'm Dying

A few days ago I started feeling really nauseous. I knew it was a side effect of my medicine, but it got so bad that I decided to lower my dose of lithium to 2 pills a day instead of 3. My symptoms however have not improved. In fact, they've gotten worse. I can't sleep, because I'm so shaky, especially my hands. I'm nauseous beyond belief, unnaturally tired and weak, and so dizzy. I can't focus, and it's even difficult to speak. Finally this afternoon I realized something was really wrong, and I opted not to take my evening dose of lithium.

I think it's lithium toxicity, so I'm calling the doctor in the morning. I just can't stop shaking and feeling so nauseous. Ugh... I need to stop shaking..................

Bipartisan Bipolarism

Since being diagnosed with Bipolar disorder two weeks ago I've been trying to connect it to my past behaviors/daily activities. Everyone's talking politics lately, so of course it's been on the tip of my brain, and this morning as I ate some Cracklin Oat Bran (the best cereal of all time) I had a startling epiphany. I tend to agree more with Democratic ideals when I'm having a manic episode, Republican ideals during a depressed episode, and some sort of mushed independent during those "normal" days. Weird... and possibly far-fetched, but still intriguing to think about. Not just my thoughts and feelings may be affected during an episode of that magnitude, but also my impressionable beliefs. Intriguing...

It's like multiple personality disorder for political parties. And I've decided to call it "Bipartisan Bipolarism"...

Perfect Love

Perfect love, purest love

Breaking through my anguish
Precious love, endless love
His love never fails me

He leads my heart when my eyes can't see

When my soul is lost he carries me

He comforts me in all my pain

And so I trust in his perfect love

Perfect love, surest love

Grace beyond my failings

Deepest love, truest love

Strong enough to save me

He leads my heart when my eyes can't see

When my soul is lost he carries me

He comforts me in all my pain

And so I trust in his perfect love

It calms my fears and peace breathes through me

He moves me

And he knows my heart even when I don't

He reaches me when I need him most

He rescues me from all my shame

And lifts he up in his perfect love

Every time I'm sinking without strength... when I feel myself drowning with no rescue in sight, I feel God's love enfold me. I don't know what I would do without Him. It always feels so good when I can breathe again.

Lithium

Lithium reminds me of a pressing hand. Imagine said hand pressing down on a curved line, and imagine that curved line represents my emotions. Sometimes the hand presses gently, and I find that I can breathe easily and freely between that hand's fingers. It's such a fantastic feeling. So... alive and at peace. Giddiness becomes a peaceable, chipper feeling. Sadness simply becomes wistfulness.

But sometimes the hand has to press harder, and my emotions, like a malleable putty, attempt to ooze between the hand's defenses, trying to break loose. But the hand is still pushing, pushing, and pressing down on me.

Suddenly it feels like I'm covered in plastic wrap. The carefree feeling, the ability to breathe freely dwindles. It's like an almost tangible film over me, keeping me from plunging into a depressed spiral or manic frenzy, but also keeping me from feeling fully alive. I'm just here, trapped beneath the surface, until my emotions can even out a bit, and I can finally breathe again.

It's just........ tough...

It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to...

Just kidding. All things considered, I'm just grateful to be alive today.

My husband woke up with a debilitating headache, which prevented him from baking the muffins he'd talked about last night. The girls were whining and being annoying for a good 6 hours. I'm so nauseous from my lithium I can hardly eat. But I feel loved, and I feel calm and happy, which is all I really wanted for this day. Granted, I had help with my stress, in the form of clonazepam. I barely ever take that stuff, but I needed it today. So now I'm tired and happy and sitting on the couch while the girls jump around and chase each other in circles.

I'm starting to feel a little more like... me though. It's a good feeling. I never wanted to be remembered as that depressed girl, or even as that crazy, manic girl my highschool friends had a blast with back in the day. I only ever wanted to be me, and I'm hoping that these normal feelings will continue and flourish with time.

So Happy Birthday to me. It's mostly been like any other day, except I'm able to see my life from a clear, calm perspective for once.
It's the best gift I could have asked for.

What I deserve

Noises, I play within my head
Touch my own skin and hope that I'm still breathing...
And so I tell myself that I'll be strong
And dreaming when they're gone

I think I've listened to Lights by Ellie Goulding nearly 500 times in the last two weeks... and I'm not exaggerating. When I get in the zone I really get in the zone.

So I'm taking Lithium now. I don't want to be treated differently, but I'm afraid that people who know what's wrong with me won't know what to do when they see me. I wonder if being bipolar means I still have major depressive disorder. It feels like they're separate things... Or maybe depressive episodes just go hand in hand with bipolar disorders.

I know I probably shouldn't have, but I felt guilty for having these disorders this morning. I found out that one of my family members went to the hospital in the middle of the night and another one no longer has a job. Those feel more real and tangible than just psychological issues, and I couldn't help but think to myself, "How dare you feel this way? People have real problems, and you just sit here, switching back and forth between a psycho and a zombie. You don't deserve sympathy..."

Disclaimer- Picture belongs to Allie Brosh @ Hyperbole and a Half

It reminds me of a blog I follow called Hyperbole and a Half. Allie's last post was about depression, and she really gets it. I also worry about her, since she hasn't had a new post in a year.






At any rate I'm just sitting her holding on and hoping that this chaos inside of me will pass. I just want to be whole and happy. I just want to be me again.

A different Diagnosis - Bipolar Disorder.

My new doctor diagnosed me with bipolar disorder. Of course I've pretty much figured that since that one time in highschool when my friend Sean told me I was "the most mercurial person [he'd] ever met". I'm just tired now. Tired and hopeful.

Taking Action

When I'm in the midst of an episode or even just a moment of intense depression I can't find the will to seek help. Since yesterday afternoon I've had this unsettled feeling beneath my skin that I admit made me look and feel crazy. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't stop rubbing my arm and occasionally hitting my head. That's not who I am. I don't want to be like that, but every time I move it's like I get this sensory overload. Like I can't handle anything unless I react physically.

Anyway, that's ridiculous, so I'm looking for a doctor and am praying I find the right one for me...

Not yet, not yet, not yet...

What if it happens early? I guess I had a bunch of minor depressive episodes early when I was 16, but still. I am mother and a wife for crying out loud. It doesn't matter how much I prepare. Ugghhh. Why is this happening? What is happening to me?

Why Can't I Just Be Normal?

I can't remember. After my moment of overwhelming peace a few days ago I slipped back into emptiness. I should have filled the void with peaceful, good things, but I didn't. I felt lively. Then I felt aggressive. Then I felt tired. Then I felt dull. But then within the dullness... I had moments where I was outgoing, spontaneous, cute, and fun. Then I'd slip back into my stupor where nothing could breakthrough my lifeless, weighted feelings.

After a couple days of zombie stupor with occasional energetic bursts of extroversion I realized today that I was genuinely depressed. Nothing was satisfying me, nothing gave me pleasure. It felt like it was all pretend. Then I thought of my poor, dear husband. He didn't deserve my lifeless attitude, but I couldn't help it. I also began to realize that my life was overwhelmingly dominated by depression. In fact, everything I feel in life tends to fall into the following categories:

Depression - 40%... maybe
Mania- 30%... sounds about right...
Peace- 9%... possibly
Normalcy- 18%... Yeah, I'm totally making these numbers up
Complete Psychological Meltdown- 3%... Probably more during an episode

I don't know what it was. Maybe my brain just broke... but when I started thinking about how truly messed up I was I felt the insatiable urge to hurt myself. I was so sick of feeling this same loop of hyper-happy, then deadened, then depressed, then masochistic tendencies cycling endlessly. I didn't want it. I fought the urge.

Then I started to shake. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't stop shaking. I was just pawing at a chair in front of me like an idiot, trying to hurt myself yet trying not to hurt myself. Then came the hideous sound effects. I was truly crazy, rocking back and forth, screeching like a dying animal. I was just begging to the air... "Help me, Please help me." I couldn't stop scratching my arm with my fingernails. The pain inside me just wouldn't go away.

My husband came upstairs, and even though my previously lifeless, apathetic behavior was wearing on him, he held me. He calmed me. He loved me. Then he left to do something. I was just in awe at how ridiculous it all was. Why was I so bubbly and happy one minute and completely dead the next? I found myself nearly shouting again. "Why can't I be normal? Why can't I just be normal?" The shaking, the moaned shrieking began to resurface, but I was clinging to my last shreds of sanity for help. I ran to my bedroom, and shaking and clawing at my bed, begging and crying in prayer to be comforted. My prayers were answered. Those crazed feelings are tucked under the surface, beneath my skin. I didn't exactly make it to the "peace" stage, but I was grateful nonetheless.

Now I'm exhausted. I understand now that fatigue is my body's way of recuperating from all these messed up things in my life. I also understand that I need a doctor, badly. I just need help.

Honking the Horn: Is it Effective or just Mean?

I'll admit... I was a rather impatient driver today. It's a 15-20 minute drive to my daughter's preschool, and anything more than that is just unfair.

But I may have gotten a bit carried away. I think I honked my horn 5 or 6 times today. That's a new record! And it's not like these were blaring honks by any means... It was the lightest tap possible to get the people in front of me to move, because they were either turned around disciplining their kids, or talking on their cell phone, or just too busy hanging their arm blithely out the window... Come on, people!!

And I live in Utah... WHERE NO ONE HONKS EVER! So I've found a nice little tap of the horn to be greatly effective. Unfortunately, not everyone appreciates this tactic of getting what I want whilst behind the wheel.

But, alas and alack, my impatience got a bit out of hand. I got way edgier than usual on the drive to and from my husband's work this afternoon, and he scolded me a bit. But it wasn't until I tapped my horn that he really got upset. I just don't understand. Is it some kind of huge taboo to honk your horn in a calm little town in spite of the fact that most of the people there can't drive??? The answer, apparently, is YES. But I realized my husband had a point. I needed to calm down and not worry about making it home in my dream time of 14 minutes. So I took a deep breath and gradually shifted from this:

To This:

... Hey, it could have been worse... and by worse I mean completely insane (You know what I mean, Cruella...).

But we've survived another day, and I have renewed hopes to forever be the slow, calm, stress-free driver... you know, the one everyone else gets mad at. muahahahaha....

A breath of fresh air

Yesterday, shortly after typing my crazy-depressed post on here I typed a plea for help on my primary blog. At the end I typed, "Please help me before I don't want help anymore." A couple of minutes later I literally felt like someone, somewhere in the world, had said a prayer for me. I distinctly felt like someone was praying for me. It's the weirdest thing... But the feelings of despair and inundating hopelessness dissipated within seconds. The music I was listening to no longer sounded the same. The air I breathed no longer failed to satisfy. My head was clear. It was... amazing, and it went on with that clarity until my husband got home from work.

This morning all those feelings of depression, the worthlessness, the disinterest in everything, the loneliness... it's gone. I woke up this morning completely clear, and it's fantastic. I survived a minor depressive episode fully intact, and I'm so grateful.

Now... bear in mind that a minor depressive episode is not nearly as bad as a major depressive episode. Those last for months. The depression just grows and grows, and all the bad feelings linger and fester and expand until I want to die. And that wanting to die lasts for a couple of weeks at least. Now you have a hint of understanding why I started this blog in the first place. I'm terrified of having another major depressive episode. I don't want it to conquer me. And I don't want anyone else to have to suffer alone if they have clinical depression. They're not alone, and neither am I.

Episode?

The past few days have been awful. Maybe it's a depressive episode of some kind, but more likely, it's a recurrence of the PMDD I had as a teenager. It's bad. I'm aware enough to realize that something is really wrong, but I already feel like I'm drowning. Hopefully this will only last a few days. All the minor depressive episodes only last a few days. Just a  few days. People must think I'm crazy... I am... but only part. The other part is trying so hard all the time to be a good wife and mother. It's all I ever do. The only real friends I have are my husband, my sisters, and a couple in-laws. All my other friends have moved on, faded away. Finances are stressing me out so much. I don't want my husband to get me a birthday present. I don't want to buy a halloween costume. Because we can't afford it. I'm suffocating. I'm suffocating. I'm dying. I can't breathe.

It's Probably the PMS talking...

How is it that I can feel so alive and charismatic in public and around friends, but when I get home and I'm no longer distracted by the busyness I feel so inundated with hopelessness? Normal people wouldn't understand I guess... I hate depression.

Um... what?

I thought my jeans were starting to feel looser, but I figured I had just stretched them out. Then I realized I must have lost a couple pounds when I noticed how lean my waist looked a few days ago. So I weighed myself today for the first time since July... and I've somehow lost fifteen pounds...

... Wait a second, WHAT?

I've lost fifteen pounds. And all I've done differently is that I started eating fruit and walking my daughter across campus to class in the morning. I hate fruit, but I've been eating it when my children eat it.

... Also, the red hair may have indirectly boosted my metabolism.

Zing!

I've been so pumped about everything today. I can't stop shaking. I have so much energy. I'm so dizzy. Dizzy all day. Dizzzzzzzzy! Not in a good way though, but I feel so good. I feel like I might faint. I felt so passionate and alive today. I felt totally invincible. I am finally alive!

Schism

Today was fine, but then something embarrassing happened, and I plummeted into the downward spiral of sadness. I haven't hit rock bottom, but I'm just kind of floating in the air, not quite sinking, not quite suffocating. I called my husband at work to try and talk about it, but I couldn't stop crying... I didn't mean for him to come home from work, but now he is, and it's probably better that way.

I am a writer, an artist, a singer, and an all-out craft enthusiast. I've already posted previously that music lends to specific emotional states in which I find myself. But when I write a lot, or really get into my art or music, I tend to separate myself from reality. My thoughts and dreams become reality, and I tend to get into this "zone" where nothing else is real. I can switch out of it immediately to take care of my kids and stuff, but it's more of a foggy in between when I'm on my computer.

I posted a song lyric on fb today and made it custom so only one person could read it. What I didn't realize is that the person would be able to see exactly who was on my custom list... only them. As a result they freaked out and unfriended me. At first it hurt my feelings, but then I realized that I'm completely insane. The fact that I posted something so vulnerable for just one person to read proves that my reality and my illusory world have officially collided. Whereas I thought they would be understanding of my plight they instead took it as some sort of frightening ambush and did what a perfectly balanced individual would do and flee.

This rude awakening has sent my mind into some kind of forced schism between what is real and what my mind has created. I don't know if I can recover from this. I've been feeling less and less "real" over the past few weeks. I used to imagine that I would be happier living in a coma where I could dream whatever I imagined with no need to wake, but teetering on the edge of what is real and what isn't has me realizing that I ought to be terrified. I may "wake" tomorrow finding that I'm normal again, and everything is fine, but today I'm on the precipice of losing my mind. ... And I'm scared.

Wanting to Take the Low Road...

I had a bad day. It's been such a good couple of weeks that this complete meltdown came as a surprise. I didn't want it, but I felt it coming anyway. My kids have been so clingy and my husband so exhausted from work that I felt like the stress was eating away at every fiber of sanity beneath my skin.

I craved retreat. I wanted to grab my headphones and hide in the dark of my room, but at the same time I didn't want to give in to it. I remembered what would happen when I went down that tunnel of despair, and while I yearned for an escape I had enough sense to cling to the fact that I didn't want to fight my way out of the darkness when reality set back in. It took hours last time to be myself again.

So I didn't take my tablet into my room and drown my unreasonable sorrows. My toddler begged to play a game on it, and I realized in a slight breath of clarity that I wouldn't be able to feed my pain if I let her play a game instead, so that's what I did.

I still yearn to give in to my emptiness... And I know that I can probably take care of it if I try to fill the void with uplifting things. .......................................... but do I really want to?

UPDATE: Yes, I want to. Gosh, I wish I could just snap out of it and realize how irrational I'm being at times like that. If only it were that easy. :-/

Grood

I can't leave out the days when I'm feeling good. I'm very tired... but I'm always tired. And yet, today I feel really happy and content. Nothing's really going on, I'm just... happy. Grood, Great and Good.

Resurfacing

I had an extremely bad morning, obviously per my previous post. I was so psychotic that I ended up making my husband come home from work to help me calm down. For the first time since my fatigue problems really started last August I was honestly grateful to feel "too tired". It was bad, but it would have been much worse if I'd had any energy. I feel subdued and tired now, and also weak... like my body's just gone through a traumatic experience. And it makes me scared. For all my planning on how to take care of problems like these... I felt completely stuck. I couldn't get out from beneath the crazy, depressed feelings. Sometimes I truly feel like my husband is my anchor. It took about 2 hours, but he stayed by my side and helped me resurface from the screaming in my mind and the emotional pain. Now I'm sitting in bed taking it easy and listening to a carefully selected playlist of calm, uplifting music.

For the first time ever I recognize that my fatigue might have been an immense blessing in disguise this whole time.

Bad, Bad, Bad

Bad day, Bad Day, bad day, bad day, bad day...

It's like I have this twitching itch under my skin, but it's not really there, and I'm sad, and I'm crazy, and unggggggh...!%*#$@(%

Anxiety

I was going to illustrate this post. It was going to be grand and humorous, but I've been so fatigued that I can't find the will. Long story short... I've been having chest pain. It got so bad that I thought I was having a heart attack one day. I got put on anxiety medicine and anti-seizure medication. I also got diagnosed with Acid-Reflux. I was told that taking my acid reflux medicine at least 30 minutes before breakfast and dinner on an empty stomach would help with the heartburn, the nausea, and supplement the anxiety medicine for my chest pain. I've been taking it for about 2 weeks.

But 3 days ago I had the most insane pain just above where my stomach is, in between the ribs where they taper out. I'm not very good with anatomy, but I thought I must have ulcers. The pain lasted 2 solid days and got much worse after I ate and when I first woke up in the morning. At any rate I've stopped taking the acid reflux medicine. It didn't seem to be doing me any good. If anything things seemed to be getting worse. My husband's worried, because I haven't been eating very much. The discomfort in my upper abdominals and the nausea saps my appetite any time I think I might be hungry... and when I do eat I get heartburn.

I always have fatigue, and it's been much worse since last August. Today I feel like I can hardly even move.

The fun part of the post was going to illustrate how I felt during my anxiety attack from a week and a half ago... but I'm too tired. I'm so tired.

The awkward adjustment to warm weather

So I've been really happy and upbeat lately. Not much to write about in terms of noteworthy emotional changes, but the past few days I've been so tired it's ridiculous. It must be all the warm weather. Bleh. And since we're trying to save money we have the thermostat set to 78 degrees. Nights are the worst! I'll toss and turn until I violently throw the blanket at the wall because it's touching my foot.

11:00 p.m.

 12:15 a.m.

 1:30 a.m.

After hours of some sleeping and mostly plotting the destruction of all blankets I'll finally sneak off to the bathroom, and on the way back I'll set the air conditioner to 74 degrees.

3:15 a.m.

Ah. Sweet Bliss.

Music Scales... but not the kind you'd think

I've been listening to a lot of Duran Duran and Depeche Mode the past few days. I reflected last night about why I decided to listen to these two bands. Did I pick out the songs because of my already angsty mood, or would I have listened to them anyway? Would my mood have progressed the same way if I had chosen more uplifting music? 

I decided that, while I might have listened to the music casually, I  would not have listened so intensely. Most of the time I listen to music and it's completely normal. But when I get in a "mood" I start playing the same songs on repeat, over and over until it completely synches and saturates with the way I'm feeling. 

I realized that if a person knew me well enough that they would be able discern my state of mind solely by my playlist. So I have created a sort of empathy scale with the songs that affect my mood most deeply. These are many of the songs that I will play on repeat when I feel a certain way. 

Here's the Manic Scale. The songs start ballady and smooth, but as I get more hyper they become more upbeat and jumpy and nearly as crazy as I sometimes feel.

MANIC SCALE

You'll notice there are no techno songs. I couldn't decided if they were actually happy or if I should put them on the Depression Scale, so I left them off, along with songs that tend to make me angry.

The Depression Scale is a more frequently visited list. If I'm at 8 or 9 on the Manic Scale, but something or someone causes a blow to my self esteem, I drop to -4 or -5 pretty quickly. I've always tended toward mercurial emotions though, so it's probably not the same for everyone else.

DEPRESSION SCALE

So there you have it. And it's not just the music to pay attention to. The pictures are helpful too! If someone starts plummeting down the depression spiral and then suddenly gets this glazed, calm, completely withdrawn countenance they are probably on drugs, hurting themselves, or about to commit suicide. Psychotic trance is also a possibility. 

I'm all over the positive scale today, but I have dipped into the negatives for today's post. I've come to the conclusion that while the music may lend to my present mood it can't be held responsible for the mood itself. If so my head would have been screaming after listening to Eraser. It was more like a shadow in the recesses of my emotive memory. "Oh, I remember how it felt to listen to that song 20 times on repeat one... Thank goodness I don't feel that way now." And there it is. I'm going to listen to "Don't You Want Me" by The Human League (Yes, I am all 80's this week!) 

What songs would you put on your scale?

Why I am terrified of 27 - My MDD Backstory

I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression, or Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), when I was seventeen. As I have tracked pivotal events in my life via journals and blogs I have discovered an alarming recurrence. Every five years I suffer a Major Depressive Episode. It attacks without motive, and it has lasted between three and six months each time. Toward the peak of the past two episodes I tried to end my life just to get rid of the pain. I love my life and want to live it without fear of hurting myself or others, so I have outlined these traumatic events hoping to find a way to avoid another episode:

The experiences of my young childhood are mostly positive. My parents described me as precocious, insightful, and perceptive. I loved to explore the outdoors and imagine secret, magical lands and play games with friends. When it came to sports, computer games, or other competitive activities I preferred to spectate. I loved reading the dictionary, encyclopedias, and almanacs that clustered throughout our bookshelves. I loved to dance and sing.

Seven
The only age I ever acted out on several occasions was as a seven year old. I can't remember most of the circumstances, but I recall the isolated emotions, sitting in a corner in the dark, feeling alone. No traumatic events accounted for the loneliness, yet it pervaded and flooded every thought. One time as a seven year old I remember feeling particular anguish. The actual memory is vague, but I recall my mother and I standing at the top of the stairs. She scolded me for doing something wrong, and I completely lost it. I took a large mirror and threw it at the ground, shattering it into pieces. I don't know what possessed me to act out so brashly. The uncontrollable crazed misery I felt that day was irrepressible.

Twelve
The 6th grade started out promising enough. All of my core classes were either GT or Honors level, and I felt proud to be in the ranks of the intellectual elite. My peers were witty, creative, and I loved my teachers. I joined the Community Problem Solvers club and had so many ideas to help. I don’t recall any kind of catalyst that would have turned it all upside down, but not too long after my twelfth birthday my ability to concentrate on my assignments became labored. I failed my favorite classes, because I couldn’t grasp the will to rise above the deadening fog that suffocated me.

I tried to turn a new leaf the next semester, but the drive to learn and explore that had always motivated me just wasn’t there. A hopelessness and despair I didn’t understand continued to overshadow every aspect of my life. Toward the end of the long enduring months of severe depression I had seemingly psychotic moments of clarity. I wrote a paper for my English class on how to commit suicide. Several days later I got suspended for bringing a pocket knife and fake drugs to school. I didn't know why I did it, except that I could hardly control my crazed thoughts. Within a few weeks I was back to my normal, quirky, motivated self again.

Seventeen
My junior year in high school started well. I was seventeen and felt empowered to make a difference.  It was around the end of November that bizarre, impulsive thoughts started to creep up on me out of nowhere. Minor depression worsened beyond my comprehension to the point where all I could do was lay sprawled on the floor while the screaming in my head paralyzed my body. Everything positive I had committed to accomplish dwindled as my mind fell into tunneled, imprisoning lifelessness.

I stood in the bathroom one day while I looked in the mirror with my whole body screaming to fix the pain. I spotted a pair of scissors and began cutting my hair. I cut and hacked until my beautiful locks scattered the bathroom floor, and the lengths that still cropped my head ranged from half an inch to one inch. I could breathe again just long enough to realize that I had ruined my lovely, light brown tresses, and I cried for my loss.

It didn’t take long before I slipped into my hopeless stupor once again. There were days when I would feel like I was drowning in the air around me, and the screaming would get so loud in my head that I could only focus in spurts. My body craved and outlet for the insanity. I found it first by listening to loud, pulsating music. I could feel it all the way to my soul. But it wasn’t enough. I began to cut my wrists to relieve emotional tension, I would bang my head against a wall to clear my head, and I contemplated suicide in the occasional eerie, serene quiet. I had misplaced my wristband one day, but I felt so sure that no one would notice a skin colored band-aid. My older brother came to visit and did notice, in front of everyone while we all played a board game. Although my mother took immediate action and began taking me to a psychologist and psychiatrist, it took several weeks to emerge from the haze of depression and really “wake up.” I was put on Lexapro to treat general depression, and it kind of helped. Because I was now diagnosed with depression and on medication I thought that I wouldn’t have to worry any more. All this happened in the course of a few months.

Twenty-Two
At age twenty-two I felt happy and complete. I had a loving husband of two years and a beautiful nine month old girl. I was attending college full time and feeling great. I felt the depression coming on for a month before the suffocating walls closed in over me. I should have paid better attention. I should have known that it wasn’t over. The same crazed feeling and inability to focus in class or on homework lasted a few weeks. In a fit of hysteria one day I returned from school shaking and crying for no reason. I promptly withdrew from all my classes and applied for a leave of absence for “health reasons”.

I don't know what came over me the next few months, but there were times when my husband would get home from school, and I would be hiding under a desk in the dark. I was freaking out crying on the floor of the bathroom one night when I just lost my mind. I needed to get rid of the crazed pain that was smothering me. This psychotic calm came over me, and I resolved to get a knife to just get rid of the pain somehow. Meanwhile, my husband felt the prompting in his mind to go sit in the kitchen for some reason. I thought he was in bed, and I crept out of the bathroom toward the kitchen in the dark. I knew exactly how far I needed to step to reach the kitchen knives. Suddenly I tripped over my husband who had fallen asleep on the kitchen floor. I started bawling and asked him how he knew, and he just said he felt like he should be there. This actually happened two times within a couple of months. I wholly believe that Divine intervention took place during those occasions.


Reflecting on the Past
I know of a surety that the last three of these occurrences were due to what is called a major depressive episode. They can last from a few weeks to several months and usually occur in people who already suffer from depression. When I took adolescent psychology I studied that major depressive episodes can be recurring, often in similar intervals. After I emerged from those terrifying few months as a twenty-two year old I made the connection that this was happening to me every five years, and each time it happened it was worse than the time before. 

I honestly think the timing of the events as a seven year old are a coincidence, but sometimes in my deepest moments of worthlessness I actually felt like my seven-year old self, and I believe those events as a seven-year old are significant somehow to what happened later. I suspect I have had Major Depressive Disorder since I hit puberty as a twelve-year old. 

I would like to note that there have been minor depressive episodes in between these five-year periods, but they have never been as severe or long lasting as the times I have elaborated on here.

What now? 
So what do I do now? I am twenty-five. I’ve been happily married for over five years and have two beautiful children. My depression seems to have faded completely for the past year and a half, and I now battle problems with adrenal fatigue and anxiety. Do I just cross my fingers and hope that history doesn't repeat itself? The past occurrences came with little warning and no catalyst or traumatic experience.

I also don't want this to be a case of self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe it could be over, since my symptoms of depression have nearly all disappeared. On the other hand I want to be prepared. I feel as though my general depression may just be a symptom of another problem. I've been trying to find out things about my body and family's history. My family has a history of hypothyroidism, social anxiety, depression, low progesterone levels, ADD, and I had Sleep Apnea as a child (maybe I still do). I think that's it, but I'm not sure what to do about it. I'm planning on taking progesterone, but I have to be careful about it. Isocort and Corvalen are also supplements I've recently used with pretty good results in terms of energy levels and/or handling stress.

This blog is hopefully going to be an outlet for me to track any changes to my life and receive advice about what I can do if another Major Depressive Episode strikes.