"Blessed With A Burden"

I am depressed.

What could I possibly say about how I'm feeling right now that hasn't been said a thousand times, and more eloquently, more sensibly, in more or better detail, by other people? Is it even worth it for me to take the time to put into words that I just don't feel like myself? That I know that the person living in my head right now is only a partial version of me? The most frustrating thing is this on repeat. This awful, caged feeling that works its way in every once in a while, affirming depression and killing energy, attention span, motivation, and nearly making it worse because of frequency.

I'll admit that I'm not surprised I ended up here this time around. Sometimes I can stave it off or circumvent it completely - and sometimes I think that's what is meant when folks who've never been here say that depression is circumstantial. Yes, occasionally I can pull myself up by the bootstraps before it gets too bad, but the fact remains that it was there hiding to begin with, it's always there hiding to begin with, regardless of circumstance. I just don't always have the time or energy to fight it. Or maybe I've had too much time and filled it with sleeping instead.

There's nothing I can say to make it better except a reaffirmation that I am more than this. I am more than falling asleep in dirty sheets every night because I keep thinking about washing them but just don't, more than crying in the shower, more than silence in the car, more than laying in bed all day not eating, more than increased anxiety because the fan in my boyfriend's xbox is extra loud today.

I am knitting, singing, laughing, adventuring. I will always find my way back.

Next To Normal - Because No One Said Life Would Be Easy

I'm the ME/spot op for Next To Normal this month, opening this past Friday, and, I'll tell ya what, it has been kind of rough on me. Initially, I was really excited to be working on this particular show, given that it revolves around a bipolar woman, and that's something I can relate to. Now that we're through tech week and opening weekend and I've stopped crying during every show, I'm starting to realize just how challenging this experience is for me.

I was diagnosed with bipolar two years and five months ago. I've spent a fair bit of time over that period trying to figure out how to explain bipolar, explain why "I don't know" is a perfectly acceptable answer to "How are you?", explain why sometimes I renege on plans, don't answer the phone or call you back, don't follow through, avoid people, and then WHAM! A piece of theatre - which, if you know me, you know is pretty much my lifeblood - that, in act I, makes me feel like I'm watching a part of myself on the stage, explaining everything I've been trying to, in song.

In the past, theatre has been an escape. A chance to pretend to be someone else, to get lost in someone else's life for a while. With this show, it suddenly ceases to be that escape and instead becomes a very real interpretation of the life I actually live. While bipolar manifests differently in different people and Diana's is more severe than mine, she and I still share the fundamental highs and lows.

At one point in the show, Diana is seeing her psychiatrist for regular medication adjustments and reports to him that she doesn't feel anything. The doctor notes that this means she is stable - a comment that has repeatedly made audience members laugh. This is, I think, the only audience reaction to this show that has really bothered me. Are they laughing because they're uncomfortable, or do they actually find this sad truth to be funny? I've had a similar experience with my own doctor, and it's not even funny in hindsight. I've been on lithium (see previous post), I've tried drugs that work, drugs that don't work, drugs that give me rashes and headaches, I've seen counselors, done workbooks, I've taken myself off meds, put myself back on meds, and I've self medicated (though mostly with exercise, caffeine, and the chiropractor). I put a lot of work into trying to stay myself, haha.

People have spent a lot of time trying to talk to me about controlling my mood swings, and in doing this show, I've learned that, for me, it's not about controlling my highs and lows because, in all honesty, I can't. I am made acutely aware on a near daily basis just how little control I have over the comings and goings of my highs and lows. What's more important is how I react to and use these swings. I am lucky enough to have a fairly high level of self awareness, but I'm still learning how to manipulate my depression and hypomania into something more accessible and usable and I'm sure I will spend the rest of my life working on that task - something I'm finally coming to terms with.

All I can really say right now is thank you to the cast and crew of Next To Normal. In some small way you have all, even unknowingly, contributed to my betterment and sanity.

Falling Awake

Lately I've been feeling stuck part way between stable and depressed. I can't quite seem to boost myself out of the hole, even though I can see over the top just a little bit.

I've had that skin-stretched-back feeling in my face a lot lately, and last Friday night I had a panic attack when I tried to go grocery shopping. I couldn't even be in the Meijer perking lot - I started crying, curled up in Joey's front seat, and requested french fries. I've found that if I have a panic attack and I acquire food that I can eat slowly, it will help regulate my breathing and calm me down. Might not be the best way to help diffuse, but there are definitely worse things to pacify myself with than food.

And, of course, there's the insomnia. I'm so tired right now I want to cry, but I can't fall asleep! And at 2am, it's too late to take my sleeping meds. Tomorrow I might try taking them at 9pm or so and seeing what happens.

Seriously, 2:09am! My "falling asleep" has become "falling awake".

Wimpy, wimpy, wimpy!

Oh, hey there - long time no chat!

I've noticed something about the people around me; they seem to be increasingly more wimpy. Just an observation.

Also I'm pretty sure my friend J has a thing for me. I always feel bad when the young ones dig me because I usually don't reciprocate, and if I do, I tend to eat them alive. See my above statement about being wimpy.

I think I've become more lethargic as of late, which is most unfortunate. I'm trying to combat my standard two-year depression cycle (I'm due...now) and so far I've kept afloat.

I'll try and keep you posted.

a mixing bowl metaphor

This is a mixing bowl. It collapses!
And oh, hey, so do I!
What a coincidence!

You combine things in this bowl to make something new!
I have mixed episodes and feel like I'm going crazy!
Dissimilar and really not coincidental at all!

Now that I've used my allotted amount of exclamation points for this post, I think it's safe to say that I'm one of the following: rapid cycling, having a mixed episode. To be honest, I can't tell the difference, but either way I feel like I'm going nuts. One minute I think I'm great, happy, excited, whatever, the next I'm crying. Is this what menopause is like? More importantly, 25 years from now, is my menopause going to be twice as bad because of my bipolar? Or will it be better because of my medication? Ok, I suppose that's not really more important than my current state. I've been feeling a little off lately, but I just assumed it was because of show stress (tomorrow is tech Sunday). Perhaps it's that coupled with the excitement of Brian being home. I can't describe how I feel because it changes from moment to moment - I knew I had a laundry list of things to finish before rehearsal tomorrow, but I didn't get them all finished even though I had more than enough time.

I feel a little bit flimsy. Something else I have in common with the mixing bowl!

Happy in the Gray

My friend Rex posted about happiness yesterday, and it got me thinking. Where is it written that we, as humans, are supposed to be happy?

Everyone gets depressed sometimes, true, but not everyone has depression. If we've spoken about it or if you've read some of my previous posts, you probably know that in the past I've been the version of myself that doesn't sing or knit and gets home from work every day to spend six hours sitting on my bedroom floor crying. Because I have been gifted with self-awareness, it's easy enough for me to look at that person and say, "Ok Carrie, this is not you." The trick though, is being able to ask for help once you've reached that realization. There is no doubt in my mind that I am incredibly lucky. Yes, I have bipolar and asthma and a few other medical issues, but I have insurance. I was raised to know that those things can and will be taken care of. Even now, if I didn't have insurance, there are enough drug companies and programs that will give medication for free.

Medication is a challenging thing. For some people taking it is a no-brainer, something they are happy to do. Maybe they see it as a cure, maybe not. Others are staunchly opposed to taking it for a variety of reasons, namely because they don't want to be chemically altered or become dependent. To me, those are the black and white views. I used to be absolutely against taking medication, and then it became a necessary part of my life. Now I like to think I'm happy somewhere in the gray - no longer fighting against my depressed self sans militia simply for fear of dependency, but not succumbing to the false assumption that medication will solve all of my problems.

Here's a secret: I haven't taken my meds in about a month now. How am I doing? A little up a little down - just like everyone else. If I feel myself slipping, I know I can take care of it. My issue at this point though, is that my anti-depressant basically induces my manic rage. I'm working on getting a new drug. I'm glad that I know myself well enough to be able to notice those patterns without the help of a doctor.

I realize that I will probably be on an anti-depressant for the rest of my life, and that's ok. That's ok because I know who I am, and it's not the depressed, pathetic version. It's the strong, goofy, nerdy version. Medication doesn't put you in a chemical-happiness bubble, it keeps you from losing your true self to your depression.

And honestly? It helps. So am I happy? Am I depressed? Not all of the time, no. Am I thinking clearly and doing what I feel like I should be doing? For myself, yes. Something that always makes me happy is being able to put a smile on other people's faces. I think that's one of the reasons I seem so motherly some times - because if I know you're sad, I will try and go out of my way to put a smile on your face.

friends/rant

I've realized that I have no friends and it's my fault. and by "no", I mean "very few". I alienate myself when I'm depressed or overly anxious, like last fall when I pretty much bailed on all of my friends at Wesley. which really the only one I was close to is/was Katie. my other Wesley peeps have all moved to other cities anyway.

which brings me to loving the Brophys. Those boys are absolutely spectacular. I think Jason and I are starting to become closer, which seemed a bit odd to me at first, because I was sweet on him for so long, but it's really nice. it seems like we're just now realizing how much we have in common besides being goofy and just a little off, haha.

I miss Sam. She gets home on Monday though, which is amazing. it's just hard sometimes, because she tends to do the same thing as my mom - I'm not sure either of them can tell when I want their opinion/input versus when I just need them to listen. seriously though, Sam is hands down the best friend I have ever had. Thinking about all these other people I've called my "best friend" in the last 20 years and the only person who can even touch her is Mikey...and those are two different kinds of relationships so I shouldn't compare. I'll probably be fucked when we end up living in different states and, you know, having lives outside of Kzoo. I think that's why people get married. consistancy. they don't have to move across the country by themselves. they don't have to live by themselves. they don't even have to shower by themselves if they don't want to.

I think it's kinda weak though, you know? how can you learn about yourself if you've never been by yourself?

mini rant.

12-Step Program

How to make April 2011 pretty much awful:

1. Bronchitis
2. Asthma + Bronchitis
3. Stop bipolar meds in exchange for antibiotics and steroids for the bronchitis and asthma
4. No eating because of illnesses
5. Medication change from lithium to oxcarbazepine
6. Oxcarbazepine causing insomnia
7. Irritate tendon and nerve in right elbow
8. Two weeks later tear TFCC in right wrist
9. Moving across town while injured
10. Skip work because of a combination of wrist and elbow pain and medication wooziness
11. No internet for almost the entire month
12. Force myself to stay away from the tattoo parlor

I need someone to tell me to take my meds.

I can't do this right now. Please? For most people this is considered a breakdown, but for me this is...normal. Being sick made my moods go bonkers, AND I stopped taking my lithium for a few days because of the antibiotics. And oh look what happened. I'm a fucking idiot.

I've been consistently crying, eating, and thinking about getting something else pierced for the last 3 days. So does this (plus other things, don't worry) mean I'm depressed or manic? Oh hey, it's BOTH.

Like I said, I'm a fucking idiot. Caitlin is texting me and she's all baby happy and I just wanna sit around and do nothing until forever.

I emailed Madison's dad about living in her basement last week, and he called me but I never called back. Partially because I don't want to, partially because talking on the phone with strangers make my anxiety skyrocket. I emailed him today and he said to just let him know when I want to move in and how long I want to stay, so at least I can actually still live there.

WHY DO I FEEL LIKE EVERYTHING HAS GOTTEN WORSE SINCE MY DIAGNOSIS? Apparently that's pretty normal - you're diagnosed and you start to become more aware of your emotional swings. I should probably do some sort of mood charting, but I don't even want to start, because I won't remember to do it and then I'll be angry with myself later for not.

...it looks like muddy water and tastes like turpentine

can I just say that my little brother is by far one of the bravest and most badass people I have even met? good, because I just did.

when I fist started have issues with depression when I was 18, I would come home and cry to my parents. my mother, being the unfeeling creature that she is, had no idea what to do, and of course did and said all the wrong things. it's not her fault, she was just ignorant of the situation. the next time I entered a major depressive episode, I avoided my parents - well, my mom at least. and this past fall (episode #3) I pretty much avoided both of them.

my brother is having similar issues, and I think it took him a lot less time to realize that our mother is terrible at dealing with negative things. he called me today and we talked for 45 minutes because he wanted to know how I have felt and compare it to what he is feeling in order to paint a more complete picture for his doctor tomorrow. it is really starting to amaze me how alike he and I are. I don't mean likes and dislikes, but more fundamental character traits. For example, we are both happier when we are 100% in control, we are both very self-aware, we just...are finally starting to understand each other.

he is far braver than I, to be able to go through this while he is in the military and on the other side of the country.

jump rope

I find myself unable to feed my soul
lithium dries my lips and the
words will not come
except as they please.

I feel like I'm jumping rope in slow motion,
like the flick of my wrist isn't enough
to cut the friction of oxygen,
thick in my lungs.
but movement without
friction is an impossibility,
like world peace or happy family.

that's just the first part. I don't feel particularly inclined to share the rest.

doc lowered my dose! I'm down to 600mg of lithium as opposed to 900mg. he said that should cut my side effects by 70-80%...brilliant! as far as moods go, I do feel better, like I am slowly approaching normal. I was tempted to put normal in quotes, but I suppose I won't exactly be my "normal" ever again, hah.

well that's depressing. I like myself when I'm "manic". except for the anger part. I guess I really have no idea what I'm talking about.  OH, after talking about it with my counselor and then again with my friend, I took a Myers-Briggs personality test - and I'm an ENFP. After reading the description, it sounds pretty damn accurate, haha.

fragility

I don't know how to be this fragile person. This weepy, flaky, horrible person who can't control the temper she spent so many years getting in check. all of that work for nothing. I feel like all of the things I have done to better myself in the last 10 years have been for naught. I don't know how to react to not knowing who I am. I've never felt like that before.

I don't know how to react to my anger and frustration with myself for not having the patience to see what happens with this new medication. I don't know how to pretend that I have the patience.

I don't know how to be this person. because I'm not fragile. I worked hard to leave my unreasonable anger in the past. I have so much strength, but somewhere it was lost, leaving me drinking the dregs. I've been awake since 11am yesterday but I feel too wound up to sleep.

I want myself back.

Please.

don't watch "Precious"

I can't breathe.

tonight is hard. the pain in my calves is distracting in the best way, though.

cardinal directions

this week was awful.

I feel like I have no words anymore, you know? like everything I have ever said is the summation of everything I ever will say. I'm never going to learn much more than I already know and I'm not going to grow any more. my mind is freezing as my body gets older. I will fight it.

Thursday I went to see my shrink for a med check. SURPRISE! I'm bipolar. it's not really a surprise, I guess - just an overwhelming explanation for the last few years of my life. over the last two days a desire to apologize to everyone has been building up in my head. an "I'm sorry if I flaked/freaked out/fucked up somehow and here's why" kind of deal. but I just keep telling myself that being bipolar is a reason, not an excuse. massive difference. and if I'm bipolar, then I'm going to try and embrace it, because any other course of action would quite possibly be even more detrimental to my mental health.

I talked to my mom on the phone for a little while yesterday and she was asking me all kinda of questions about being bipolar. somehow we ended up on the topic of my weight - apparently she didn't know that when I was 17 and looked really thin that she used to tell me I looked too skinny and I needed to eat something nearly every day, and that it got to the point where I didn't even want to look in the mirror. She kept denying it, saying that she never had a big concern about my weight except once in the 6th grade when I lost weight because I was overextended. I sent her a message on Facebook with a link attached to some information on bipolar II, and this is the message I got back from her this morning:

"Thanks for the info. Guess I really haven't spent much time around you in the last 4 years or so. I've seen the depression but not mania. Things like overspending and pretentiousness? Anyway, got to thinking about your comments on weight when you were a teen. Dad and I did go through a period of time when we were concerned about you having an eating disorder. Didn't realize it carried over into my interactions w/you. You have probably noticed I don't really have comforting words when it comes to bad things in a person's life. Just not good w/that stuff; even for my own children. Its hard being imperfect and not wanting to be. Let me know how I can support you. I just know there are plenty of people out there w/bipolar that are having great lives. I know a couple. I always think of you as strong enough to handle what life throws at you, but if you need something, please ask."

 It hasn't been until recently that I am finding out just how highly my mother thinks of me.

I always hoped my life wouldn't be this kind of hard. I need a compass.

whoa, slow your roll!

I don't think I've ever cycled that quickly before, it's kinda freaking me out. I was just laying on my bed eating rice and crying, then like two songs later I was up doing dishes, thinking about this job that I applied for and actually being productive...and now I'm somewhere in between the two. I can't type tonight - I'm having to fix every third word or so because I type it wrong. Also, I should probably stop picking at my new tattoo. I'll vacuum tomorrow. Maybe. Also, I will call a counselor tomorrow. Maybe.

Cyclical

I do believe I have officially entered cycle #3 of my life with depression. And here I was, hoping that it would skip a generation, skip a decade, skip a beat. For the time being, it seems like my depression hits about every 2 years. It generally hits every late summer/early fall, and varies in intensity and functional level.

Cycle #1 (Fall 2006):
Freshman year of college. I thought that was the cause so I did nothing. I handled it relatively well, I think. No medication. No failed classes. Success?

Cycle #2 (Summer/Fall 2008-Winter 2009):
Sonofabitch, worst time of my life. It got so bad I stayed in my dorm for days on end, oscillating between sleeping for 20 hours a night and not sleeping at all. Failed an entire semester of classes. Spent 9 months taking Celexa and different levels of Welbutrin, along with meds to help me put weight back on.

Cycle #3 (Right Now):
Trying to self medicate with exercise - hey, it works for my brother. We'll see how it goes. I have one song on repeat and don't feel like doing anything but sleep. I've been a little late to work every day for the last 2+ weeks but my boss hasn't said anything. Polls open bright and early tomorrow and I'm only a little excited - definitely not a good sign. I should be absolutely stoked to go vote, per usual.

I think I'm going to try and blog the shit out of this sucker.
Ugh.

Mission: SOLVE

"Love songs suck and fairy tales aren't true
and happy ending Hollywood is not for me and you
add it up, break it down, it's not that hard to figure out
you're crazy and I'm crazy about you"
-Bowling For Soup

I'm having trouble remembering the last time I was totally and completely honest with someone. That's a problem. I need to solve it, ASAP.

Late night depression is getting the best of me tonight.