Death from the inside out

Let me preface this entry by saying I have been depressed. Very depressed. Suicidal depressed. I have pulled out of the suicidal part, and the constant crying. I am down to daily bouts of crying and periods of immobility. Just needed you to understand my state of mind so you can take this next part with a grain of salt.

Intimate relationships will slowly kill your soul. Or one person's soul. One member of the relationship will survive, the other will die. On the inside. What about these long, happy relationships? 50 year marriages? Maybe, sometimes. one person is defeated and absorbed. Or maybe it is a symbiotic relationship. Like those fish that clean the bigger fishes teeth (is it sharks teeth?). And if you are not willing to clean the shark teeth you are killed off. I guess I should modify my previous statement. Not all intimate relationships. Just the ones that are overly intimate. Living together is overly intimate. Your lives become too enmeshed. Your differences emerge. You think it is about compromise? How often do you get what you want, what you need? Not the stuff like does the toilet paper go over or under. The bigger stuff. Or what about when all the small stuff adds up? What about how he just chips away at you until there is more him and less you? You try to assert yourself and get the silent treatment. So you give in. Or you don't. Then instead of talking about it, he just pretends it didn't happen. Until you just give in all the time to avoid the cycle. Then you have an epiphany. You are dying from the inside out. And a voice inside says it's too late. Just give up.

No more therapy

Yesterday was a horrible day. I found out I have used all my therapy visits for this year. So the last 5 or so visits to my therapist and psychiatrist will not be covered. I will be paying for those on my own. I'll just head out to the garden and pluck the money from my money tree (sarcasm). I spent the entire day bursting into tears at random moments. Not fun when you are not alone or are out in public. I decided to cancel all my visits with the therapist. I can't afford them and if I have to chose, I need to see the psychiatrist to manage my medication more than I need therapy. Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the therapy would be more beneficial. But it's done now. I feel depressed and hopeless. Why keep trying to get better. No one really cares if I do or not. Any time I think something is going to work, it doesn't. So "it is what it is" as the saying goes. Just accept it. Or die trying.

Why does therapy hurt so much?

Had another session with the therapist today. He said he thinks I am getting better. I'm not sure how he knows that. I wish I could see myself through his eyes. We talk about stuff, like what I've been doing since our last session. All we do is talk. I think I'm waiting for him to tell me what I'm supposed to do to get better, but he doesn't. And after I leave I just want to cry. I'm not sure how this is supposed to be helping.

Broken coping

Haven't blogged in a bit. Started a new medication. It is a mood stabilizer. I have been tapering up in dose for about 4 weeks now. I feel OK so far. I have also been involved in a house remodel that is now all consuming. I have to move at the end of June so the house remodel needs to be ready to live in by then. It is constant physical labor. My entire body hurts, but my mind is peaceful most of the time. The work part is the best. When I start thinking about packing and all the work involved in the move, I get stressed. But who wouldn't?

I also started work with a psychologist. Therapy is difficult. I like the therapist, but I leave each appointment feeling  empty and sad. I can't figure out why that is. Am I feeling hopeless, maybe worried this won't end up working? Or maybe facing the truth about yourself is just a difficult thing? He suggested I was overwhelmed with being the "caregiver" all the time and when my personal life became overly stressful my coping mechanisms fell apart (kind of like my marriage). I don't like this, but maybe it could have some truth to it. If that is the case, it doesn't make me feel much better. Life is constant stress, for anyone. And the personal situation that led to my panic attacks (ok, some might call it a breakdown) has resolved, but I live with the echoes of my old life and what could have been if all this had not happened. And now a new life changing event comes up. So the stressors don't go away, they keep shifting is all. My point being, if my coping mechanisms fell apart because of too much stress, how do you fix them when you are under stress all the time?

Misplaced, but not

This actually has been a good week. My mood has been calm, and at times, down right happy. I haven't actually felt like this for more than a year. It's a good feeling. Until today. Today I am gathering some paperwork I need. I consider myself fairly organized. I file things in a cabinet, neatly labeled. Today I couldn't find the title to my car. So frustrating. As I neared hysterics, I stopped and convinced myself it just wasn't worth it. I could go to the DMV, pay a small fee, and get a copy. Not worth the level of stress I was reaching. I took a break and calmed down. Very sensible. Then I had to find another copy of unrelated papers. I couldn't find what I needed. I did find the title to my car. But now I didn't have something else and needed, and this time no easy fix. I was in a state. Talking to myself, wandering aimlessly now, coming apart at the seams. I made myself sit down again. I needed to focus on something else. I made myself wait 30 minutes before resuming the search. It was right in front of me the whole time. I had my hands on it at least half a dozen times never fully comprehending what it was. I guess all's well that ends well, right?

Medicate me, please

One more week before my current dose of antidepressant will be low enough to start a new medication. (had a reaction to current med, so had to taper down before starting a new one). Basically, I am on almost no antidepressant. My mood has been, well, depressed. I feel out of control of my emotions and my life. I'm overwhelmed by the simplest tasks. Reading the mail is so stressful I have to do it in small steps. How pathetic am I? I slept most of yesterday.

I don't think S.O. is very supportive of me right now. He has said he doesn't understand what I'm going through, but I don't think it's that so much as he doesn't really care. Or it's just me being depressed and anxious about everything. I can feel myself falling into this big hole and I don't want to move or think or do anything. I just want to sleep.

What comes around....

I believe in Kharma. Have for a long time. Even before suicidal ideation was a part of my vocabulary. What I believe Kharma to be anyway, which is basically that what comes around goes around. I know that isn't really it, but let's just go with that for now.

There was a time I thought depression was a lot of B.S. I knew mental illness was real, but mental illness was schizophrenia, anti-social personality disorder, things like that. Depression was just people feeling sad and being lazy. Now I'm involved with a person that has that same outlook. See how that works? Kharma. Or irony. Whichever.

My S.O. is pretty much a homebody, just like I am now. Not like I used to be. But like I am now that I don't like people anymore. In all fairness, it's hard to like something that gives you panic attacks and causes you to behave like an irrational fool in public. He is a homebody, but he has kids. That means school concerts and sporting events. One of which is tomorrow. I love his kids. Whenever I think I can manage it, I medicate myself and attend as many functions as possible. The problem is, SO doesn't understand what it takes for me to leave the house, let alone enter a packed auditorium. If I don't go, I'm the evil *itch that only cares about herself and I am treated to grown man pouting and the silent treatment. Tomorrow we not only have 2 games, but it is our turn to work the concession stand before the 2 games and I have to bring baked goods to sell at the concession stand. I wonder if crushed Xanax looks anything like powdered sugar?