Honestly.

I had ECT this morning. Now, it's this afternoon and I'm recuperating on the couch, watching a movie called "50/50." If you haven't seen it, I'd recommend it-just, maybe not on a day when you're keenly aware of your own illness.

Not too long ago I paused the movie and lurched off the couch and creaked down the hall to the bathroom. The boys had been playing for a bit and somehow I couldn't put it together where they were... Mind you, we live in a three-bedroom apartment. 

Standing in that hallway there was an open door to our bedroom on my right, a closed door ahead of me, and an open door on my left to the bathroom. They weren't in our bedroom or the bathroom and I couldn't remember what was behind the door in front of me.

I couldn't visualize BB's room. I could hear the boys playing and I couldn't imagine where they were. I forgot where his bed was, the blue mini-trampoline by the toy box and his bookshelf. I could hear their voices and had no idea the space they inhabited, the physical plane where they existed, what they could possibly look like behind that door.

My breath caught and the tears came. I stifled sobs and ducked into the bathroom, collapsing onto the floor in the dark. My nose ran. I wiped away tears and tried to keep quiet. Sucking air as I scrambled onto BB's plastic IKEA stool, I swiped at the door until it was mostly closed and slumped against the cabinet.

I was sick. I am sick. 

It's not usual for people to forget what their son's bedroom-a room they're in everyday-looks like. It's not usual for people to be getting IV sticks more than ice cream cones. When I can't remember what I read on the gym whiteboard or any part of the Super Bowl that I watched with the hubs, my gym friend, and our sons... it's not average. It's not a personality trait. It's a side effect. 

I'm sick. I'm sick and there's no cure. I can-I have-achieved remissions. I won't always be experiencing such dramatic side effects. I'm still sick. I'm still hitting up the pharmacy more often than most people visit The Olive Garden or some shit... I mean, you should see my medicine "cabinet." Honestly, I should be upgrading my storage options, 'cuz it's a cluster, I tell ya what.

Honestly. That word. It's a tough one for me. I have a difficult time gauging what's "honest" and what's "dramatic." Maybe that's because sometimes the honest truth is dramatic. Well, I don't want to be dramatic and I want to honest, so not only am I writing this post-I'm sharing some pictures that I've only ever shown to the hubs (well, he's not even seen some of them!).

So. Here goes. Some pictures. And more about my experience of being sick-not that I'm nearly as sick as some people! I know that it could be worse. I just want to be honest about how bad it is. I think a lot of it's about admitting to myself what I'm feeling... I've been opening up to some gym friends lately and it's a little confusing being so "chill" when I'm feeling so bad some days-ANYWAYS. Here goes.

I'm just gonna do it. (might've shared some of these before, just so ya know)

Heading into ECT w/ my hair net.
We put gowns over our street clothes
& cram all our belongings into bright green bags
that they leave at the foot of our bed during treatment.
Sometimes I'm lucky and get the Bair Hugger!

I got a butterfly IV today. Really easy stick too!
Took a picture to taunt the hubby-

Guess it's all about perspective, eh?
He's not one for needles-

Annual blood work does him in.
Kind of lucky that
I'm the "sick" one in that way!

Coming out of ECT.
This seems like my uniform of late-
striped cap, green sweater, Crocs!
It looks like I've been crying, although
I'm usually just misty-eyed post-anesthesia. 

Recovering last week at my parents' w/ BB
eating "yee-gurt" and watching Olympics.

Today.
Hard to see the goop on my temple from treatment-it's there.
Watching a movie about cancer made my cap feel way more "sicky!"
Hurt pretty bad post-treatment today.
Worst in a long time.
Getting a bit better now.

Found this from last month.
I can't remember exactly-I think we went
to the ER. The hubs claimed that he called
ahead and that they "had a room." Later
he admitted that he didn't know, he just told me
so to get me to the hospital.
Smart man.

So, I'm lying on the couch with a mass pillows and extra soft couch blankets (we're "couch blankets" people around here) and posting all these pictures... I feel like I've said something and not enough. Earlier, those sobs, that pain, I really, truly, deeply felt it. Now I feel numbed again. "It's not that bad" again.

Tapped for now.

Thank you. Love and hugs and gratitude and smiles. I'm getting back to "my life" more and more, hopefully that means more blogging. Even if it doesn't quite yet, know that I think of you all!

Bonus pic:

Made it to 29!
First official (29 yrs) bracelet :o)
PS: Good game in the background!

Back on the Inside

Friday I had another plan with a set date. The hubs was onto me and I confessed in a note, so he skipped out on work and took me to the ER up in Seattle where they do my ECT treatments now.

We clocked in at 1:25 and I got into my room almost exactly 9 hours later.

T I R E D

So far so good. Found some nice folks and like the staff. Got some great tomato soup here.

Hoping to get onto the ECT schedule for Monday and we shall see.

I think we're gonna be trying a "new" medication to try and help with my sleeping.

We aren't allowed to have laptops or cellphones on the unit so I will be sparse for the next week at least (as if I haven't been sparse for MONTHS now!).

Thank you all for your support. I hope-truly-to see those days when I'm well enough to catch up with all of your blogs and stories too.

Be well.

Still Here

Tomorrow the hubster foiled my would-be attempt by having my dad drop by the apartment unannounced. My dad took care of BB while I slept most of the afternoon (or laid in the dark contemplating new strategies) and until the hubby got home that evening.

Apparently the hubster got me into a drug trial down in Portland. Since things with ECT have slowed down because of needing that EKG and bloodwork (which seems so simple) he wanted to act more quickly.

Feeling broken. Broken and split. I can feel that my brain isn't working. Part of me feels like ending my life is the best thing for everyone involved. Part of me sees the illness and a life worth living as separate... as the hubster was having me say last night, "I'm out of my mind." That bout covers it.

One day at a time. Gonna be under supervision for foreseeable future. Can't blame them considering I was driving in the rain without my windshield wipers on going 55 in the right lane completed spaced yesterday...

Life is messy right now.


Had a few interesting dreams and stories to share-maybe later. My head hurts and food must be consumed.

Be well.

Hi Again

It's been a little over a week now since the hubster got laid off.

It's been rocky and at sometimes suspiciously smooth. A confusing mash of understanding and support jumbled up with grief and misdirected anger.

Already having been in the midst of a recovery period and trying to regain some of the balance I lost during the summer living with my family makes me feel more vulnerable. Not that unemployment at any stage of stability wouldn't be a nuke on anyone's life.

There has been some down swings along with a few upswings. The more problematic symptom has been anger. Outbursts, violence, bickering, and eventually the shame and sadness that usually follow my angry moments.

Thankfully the violence has been limited to slamming my fists on a table, flicking or throwing something (not at anyone or to break anything), and yelling. It's still embarrassing and I know that it stresses Baby Bananaface. The hubs and I aren't used to this level of... angst and expression. Being the types that don't just let things lie means that we struggle to shelve things in order to discuss them in a more appropriate way. Things just erupt wherever and whenever.

Even during these rough times, we know that we are committed to one another and strive to improve. We know things will get there. Baby steps.

The holidays are coming.

My nephew's birthday is Saturday. We haven't heard of any party or anything. Wouldn't be surprised if we weren't invited, or invited last minute with the hope of us not being able to make it sort of thing.

We are going to send him a gift and card in the mail tomorrow, just in case.

The journeys across state for Thanksgiving and Christmas are a little worrying. Expenses and potty training complicate things. Our little commuter car isn't something we like to drive over the pass-let alone put more miles on-and we hate to spend money on a rental right now. We shall see how things work out.


Off to errands and chores.

Thank you for commenting! I'm sorry that I can't respond to everyone lately or read around. I do miss everyone and look forward to catching up more thoroughly soon :o)

Acknowledge, Accept, Engage

Ya might think this will be a political post and it isn't. The truth is that I've been having a rough time and I haven't posted about it because I'm self-conscious about posting too often and/or posting incongruous posts. Well, that's life with mental health diagnoses. I can have glorious moments on family vacation and horrible lows all in the same week-or day.

So here goes.

The Friday before we left for our road trip I had my first full-on panic attack in months. My anxiety had been elevated for weeks and I think the pre-departure stress put me in a very vulnerable position.

The class that day was probably around triple the usual size because of an altered schedule that week. We were doing an exercise that involved many people dropping barbells almost in unison. That first round put me over. The tears came on, my body began shaking, my heart rate sky rocketed, and a flush came over me beyond my workout glow.

I grabbed my water bottle and purse, bounding into the front room to haphazardly open my emergency pill container that dangles from my wallet at all times. Between the shakes and my restrictive weightlifting wrist bands it was quite a task! After popping my pill I ran cold water over my hands and face before grabbing some frozen sponges and taking some time to walk around outside to calm myself. A friendly childcare/office lady talked with me during this time and helped me calm down as well.

Yesterday, I had to run out of a workout again.

I haven't been able to manage my anxiety the last several weeks and injuries preventing me from engaging in my workouts as I'd like have been quite upsetting. With the elevated anxiety I wasn't able to think straight and ask my coach for help scaling, instead I panicked when the workout began and subsequently walked out before a full blown panic attack struck.

I collapsed on the grass in the sun outside the gym and cried.

My coach hollered from the warehouse door to see if I was okay and I told him it was anxiety and that I'd be fine.

Later, after the workout, he asked if I wanted to talk about it. I started crying and shrugged my shoulders. He asked if the anxiety just "cropped up" and I told him that it had been a problem for a while. This time, it was more than anxiety though, the suicidal impulses have returned. I told him that I had some mental health diagnoses that involve anxiety and chronic suicidality. That these disorders require me to work out frequently at a certain intensity or things can get dangerous for me. My injuries have been gumming that up.

He thanked me for talking to him and I thanked him as well. A couple other folks inquired as to my well being and wished me well.

I love the support I've received there. It does freak me out that I'm experiencing such intense symptoms where I feel most safe. I can understand it, sure, I'm just concerned that I can't even relax at my relaxing place.



I'm very scared. The dips are persisting longer than they have in a long time. I've had suicidal episodes since moving here, they were acute though. This is a different animal. A slippier animal.

The hubs has pushed things into high gear looking for alternate housing. I've been trying to avoid my family as much as possible. I still need to pull out my DBT book and focus on really working some skills...

My brain is slow yet my thoughts are fast.

My body is weary yet I can't relax.

I have to acknowledge this isn't just a little dip. I've had a few intense episodes since the move and this isn't that. It's been a slow, sneaky descent. I find it more difficult to recognize the dark logic as my disease and I'm starting to romanticize suicidal ideations.

I feel like I'm walking a very dangerous line. I feel desperate. I am afraid. And I'm crying at the drop of hat-more and more in public and when driving (not exactly safe).

Moving here was a bad, bad idea. I came in with the best intentions, trying to tamp down the fear and focus on meeting the challenge, but I have to retreat.

Over and over I think, "my family is killing me," and it haunts me. I feel guilt. I feel anger. I don't think they mean to and yet a sense of victimization overwhelms me. It isn't fair. Why me? So many other people have it so much worse... It's so messy. It's so hurtful. They aren't safe. This can't be malicious, you can't hold them accountable for ignorance... I feel like they would be offended and confused to hear this and yet I can't deny it. I don't want to hurt them, I don't want to blame them (though it is so hard to delineate between fact and blame for me)... but a cut needs to be made. I need to excise this threat.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain for staying, pain for leaving.

I suppose my brain chemistry at the moment doesn't help either.



Hope this isn't too incoherent. Thanks for being here, from vacation to crisis :o)

One of those "anger release" exercises...

WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG POST!

Seriously, it's really long.

If you have to pee, pee now.

So... I had intended to do a different anger releasing writing project and instead I found myself "gifted" with a new starting point today. I ended up mixing some of my previous complaints with the newer ones. It might be a little confusing-somehow in my process I blended multiple members of  my family into one. No matter. The process is the important part. 


DISCLAIMER: I tried to embrace my anger. I tried to fan the flames. I tried to dig up compacted rage. As intentional as this is, I am still quite uncomfortable with expressing my anger. I don't know if such phrases are effective. I don't know if it's rational or justified or something I can stand by... I'm trying not to judge myself and I hope you can withhold judgment as well :o) I don't like saying mean things. I empathize and I see both sides so much that I struggle to even own thoughts like these let alone express them on paper, screen, or out loud!

DISCLAIMER PS: The hubby has encouraged me to embrace a "go fuck yourself" mentality. Instead of being hurt and trying to figure out what's wrong with me or how to be good enough, reject the hurtful opinion. Think or say "go fuck yourself" instead of throwing myself under the bus or putting myself at risk for relapse. I don't have to analyze every comment... I can let it go. Push it away. So, I tried to embrace that. In real life I don't really say, "go fuck yourself." Ever. Very weird feelings... Anywho. Just sayin.


Here we go. Somehow an offhand comment set my off...



Maybe you thought it was a compliment today when you said I should be on that show, "American Grit." The thing is, when the host describes the show as a place for people "all who either have lost their grit or never had it" I don't take that as a compliment. 



A) How the fuck can you think that I don't have grit? Do you have that little appreciation for what I've survived? 


It's puzzling to me that you have never seemed to grasp my mental health issues. It's been over 15 years since my symptoms surfaced and yet it seems like you still struggle to acknowledge my disease. I mention something relating to my mental health and I'm greeted with a "deer in the headlights" stare. My husband says that he has given up on trying to explain that this type of illness can't be "cured," that it's part of my body chemistry and brain structure. Do you really think I'm not trying hard enough to "fix it?" Do you think that I'm lazy?

Maybe you don't appreciate the years of my childhood and young adulthood spent in quiet desperation. The years of self-harming and isolation. You pegged me as "the Eeyore of the family." Why does my mental illness define my personality? 

Maybe you didn't notice my instability. You didn't notice my disease sending me into months of darkness or jerking me into weeks of elation. Years of feeling like I couldn't be trusted with my own life; whether that meant wanting to kill myself or being aware that I was too starry-eyed to make responsible decisions. I was impulsive and unstable and trying to figure out a solution all on my own... I suppose these deep-rooted feelings of rejection and abandonment have grown from multiple seeds, I'm sure this is one of them though. You didn't know what to do, I get it, maybe if it felt like you tried I wouldn't feel this angry. I wouldn't feel this heartbroken. You turned away from me and fed my self-disgust. 


And what of the last couple years? Do you appreciate the fact that I spent months barely able to care for myself or my infant son? What about the period of time that I couldn't be trusted alone with my son? Surely you remember the weeks in the hospital. I'm told you visited. I know that you helped drive me to ECT treatments. Do you know how many times the hubster drove me? or drove BB north to daycare then drove south to work then drove west to see me in the psych ward before rushing back to BB and caring for our son throughout the evening-multiple wakings in the night-before waking early to do it again all on his own? (Hubby comment: he only got one speeding ticket!)

Do you see the scars we carry? The scars that bind us? That time broke trust and built trust. I couldn't be trusted with my life or with my son's life. He saved us. Why does the hubby ask so openly and abruptly if I'm safe? if I'm suicidal? if I feel out of control? because dozens and dozens of times I've been in danger. He's been rescuing me. That was our norm and we've made it through. We've made it through and are making a new normal from scratch. Your jokes and teasing about his protectiveness and adherence to routine aren't just annoying, they're insulting.

How can you imply that I don't have grit? Over a year of life-threatening postpartum depression, over a dozen medications tried to stem the crisis, over three weeks in the hospital, over thirty ECT treatments... I'm still here. I laid on a bed and waited for my last breath to try and spare my husband and son a lifetime of trying to save a life I thought wasn't worth saving-mine. My husband ripped that plastic bag off my face and saved my life that afternoon and despite having close to no resolve left, somehow I kept fighting. For him. For my son. And a little for me.

How much more grit do I have to have before I can believe you think I'm enough?

I can't count on that anymore. I can't wait to sense some change in you. I can't play these pussy-footing games of allusion and corroding criticism. I may have started my life in this game with your dangerous rules. I won't finish my life at your game. You can call me sensitive, you can tease me and imply that I'm weak, you can make me feel like I'm flawed beyond salvaging-and then you can go fuck yourselves. Just because you don't seem to realize the damage you cause doesn't mean you are devoid of responsibility. 

I don't need your apologies. I don't need you. I don't need more grit.




B) Do you have that little appreciation for how much I do everyday to try and avert relapse and continue to survive? What kind of grit does that take?


You give the impression that the most important aspect of my exercise regimen in my weight loss and being fit. Maybe all your comments about me "being in the best shape of your life" or "a sliver of what you used to be" are intended to be compliments. In reality? It feels like weight added back onto my shoulders. I feel pressure to lose more weight. To lift heavier weight. To tone more parts of my body and fit in smaller clothes and eliminate rolls and embody some image that you, society, and the shadowed part of me have deemed worthy of pride. 

It's not healthy.

My mental state is more important than the state of my ass. I exercise every day to try and maintain my mood stability or actively battle back anxiety and depression. I go to the gym despite my social anxiety, despite feeling inept and insufficient, despite feeling like an outcast and poser. I go to the gym and try to push myself hard enough to be able to push back the disease I will live with for the rest of my life.

It doesn't really matter how much I can lift. The kind of strength I need most can't be provided by regular exercise.


You tease me for my "OCD" while loading the dishwasher or trying to keep the refrigerator organized. Okay, that's not how you do things. Fine. I do it different and for a damn good reason. 

I'm not OCD-which is a  clinical disorder and not something to be joked about-I am sick. I am sick in such a way that I have to avoid any extra stress whenever possible. I am sick in such a way that I have to be mindful throughout my day about big and little choices-from doing dishes or taking medication. 

I am sick in such a way that unloading the dishes and finding several of them dirty because the machine was overloaded or loaded ineffectively can be unduly upsetting. I'm sick in such a way that having sharp knives scattered throughout the other silverware instead of contained in their own section can increase my impulses to self-harm. 

As for a disorganized and sometimes unsanitary fridge or a cabinet stuffed with mismatched Tupperware? If I'm having a bad day, opening a door and being confronted by these things can send me into a panic or distress me in a way that contributes to a depressive episode. Not to mention feeling the criticism and rejection from you verbal teasing in each carelessly placed item. And seriously-why would you want to put your fruits right by (or on) your raw meat!? 


I have to live this way to live. It's working for me and that's what matters-at least to me, my husband, and our son. Don't think that I resent it-it is a lot of work and it's also the greatest sense of stability that I've ever had in my life. My mental state may fluctuate and get dangerous from time-to-time; dinner will always be at 6:00 PM. The silverware will always be sorted and easily accessible. The yoghurt will always be on the same shelf. Baby Bananaface will always have a set bedtime. That stability, having something I can count on, gives me comfort and confidence that I didn't have before. It helps me cope, it helps me thrive.

You want to live in a hurricane made by your own hand? Go ahead. You want to swallow your feelings and eat your loneliness? Go ahead. You want to bury yourself in cheap trinkets in lieu hearing "I love you?" Fine. I'm sick of trying to satiate the needs you don't claim responsibility for or even acknowledge. I'm not interested in maintaining this legacy of delusion and self-imposed suffering. I take this heritage and try to set it aside day-after-day for my own good and for my husband and for my son.

Y'all can sit in your burning building on your own. I'm leaving.




Whew. I tried NOT to edit much. I tried NOT to hold back or censor. I'm sure that this isn't everything though. I have a hard time handling anger. I think this was a step in the right direction though.

What does this mean for the real relationship with me family? I have no clue. I do think that I can't expect them to change or expend too much of my energy fighting to change things. I have to take care of myself in other ways first and that takes a lot of my time and energy. I think it's all right to simply accept things and accept that I don't have to fix it. I can move on and live the best life that I can without making everything neat and perfect.

CONGRATS if you read this entire post.

 You have eyes of steel ;o)

Another Day, Another Dip

Today was one of those days that starts out a bit rocky. You think you can right the boat and paddle on and then everything tips and you're in the drink.

I was feeling down from the get-go. The malaise of a depressive episode shadowing my every move. I made it a point to make it to the gym-I even did two classes back-to-back this morning. That would usually turn my mood around and get me going. Instead, I felt bored. They challenged me a bit, though afterward I didn't get my usual post-workout high. I was simply back to the grindstone.

I felt hungry and yet didn't want to eat. I did anyway.

We took Baby Bananaface for a drive to help him get a proper nap in and for the most part enjoyed the drive and time to chat together. Toward the end of the drive though-we were discussing our relocation to the new area and long term plans-just a few misplaced feelings and fumbling statements pushed my mood over the safety rails.

Whatever bit of recovery I had made from the earlier episode(s) this week crumbled. I began avoiding eye contact. Not speaking. My face slack. Tears falling easily. Thoughts of suicide tactics and self-harming urges flying through my mind.

At one point the hubs tried to get me to promise that I wouldn't hurt myself. Even narrowing his request to encompass only this afternoon, only this evening. only this night, only today. Even then I couldn't say the words. I found myself saying, "How do you define 'hurt yourself?' What if it's better than killing myself?" It got very dysfunctional very fast. There was even some tousling and wrestling as I tried to escape his hugs.

Eventually he managed to get me into bed. Got me to drink a little water. Take some anti-anxiety medication.

As I laid there, desperate thoughts still clattering through my brain-I found myself a surprising respite. I imagined the hubster and BB in a new home. Tall ceilings and lots of windows and natural light. There was a peaceful, petite woman cooking in the kitchen. She watched as they played in the dining area, smiling as she diced and measured and stirred. She had sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She loved them and she was there for them, able to provide and contribute and be a stable, consistent, supportive part of the family. She loved them. He loved her. BB loved her. They were all calm and grateful and happy.

Imagining the scene slowed my heart rate and my thoughts. Brought tears to my eyes and heavy sighs out my throat.

The meds started to kick in. Still, I felt haunted by plots to sneak out a window and walk down back roads toward the bay to swim away until I simply couldn't keep myself afloat any longer. I even had a thought of taking the family dog (my sister adopted it and my parents mostly take care of it and they all complain about her) with me and somehow managing to have both of us obliterated by a train. It seemed like a nice thing to do to get rid of a dog that annoys everyone along with the burden I supply!

Now I'm regaining some perspective. Still quite aware of the darkness. Still quite susceptible. Still convinced that I'm not worth the breaths I take.

Part of me knows that those thoughts will fade and a healthier outlook will return. Part of me has scooped up that sticky rationale that I'm beyond repair and not anywhere near the trouble or bother it takes to keep my alive through these episodes.

If this isn't the bottom, I'm certainly on my way for another visit.

Back to the battleground I go.

Another Rough Day

So the hubster just got home a few minutes ago. At one point he requested that I look him the eyes and he asked, "How long have you been unsafe for?" I asked him to clarify what that meant. He said something about suicidal or self-harming urges. I took a moment to reflect on my day and guesstimated between 3-4 hours.

The suicidal aspect comprised of imagery flashing through my mind. Visualizations of holding a gun to my head. Drowning. Self-harming urges consisted of desires to bash my head on the counter, cutting. I did do some emotional eating. Overall, just not feeling well.


The day as a whole went pretty well-other than mood issues. I was able to keep Baby Bananaface fed and mostly on schedule. He took a good nap. I got dishes, laundry, and some cleaning done. He was agitated and needy today. It wore on me. By mid-afternoon I was ready to be done parenting and get to my strength training class.

The hubster was staying a bit late at work to try and avoid traffic (some major accidents along our main corridor) so I texted asking whether he was close. He asked if I meant as far as completing his homework. I responded with a crying face emoji.

He called and we talked. I stuffed emotions. Avoided discussing how I was really doing. I kept breathing deep, trying to hold back my tears and desperate feelings. I sucked it up and forged ahead with dinner and getting ready for the gym.

Not even 20 minutes into the workout the childcare folks called me in to get BB. Apparently he was asking to be held, wouldn't take off his backpack, and crying when they set him down. At the old gym, no problem. Here, with the meek tweenage ladies taking care of the kids, too much to handle. After I cleaned up mine and my mother's workout stations I walked past the childcare area and saw one of the girls lying on the floor. She can't hold my kid cuz she has to lie down? WTF?

Anyway. My mom had took BB and said that I could finish my workout. I had started to and then I couldn't. I kept thinking about how my mom drops everything and takes care of my nephew so often for my sister and I didn't want to be like that. I can sense how poorly my mom is feeling-physically and mentally-and I just can't contribute to her pain.

There was a moment in my frenzied, sad thinking that I recognized that I have a disease and that I need extra help from time-to-time. I thought that I'm different from my sister and I don't abuse my mother's help. Then I thought about how wore out my mom is and I just couldn't do it... I couldn't give myself that grace.



When we got home I took BB into our room and gave him a bath, got him distracted with some toys so I could shower, then played with him until the hubby got home.

He knew I wasn't well. He knew I was isolating. He started problem solving. I'm still hiding in the bedroom. I used the excuse of needing "computer time" to avoid launching myself back into the family arena.

It's so stressful. Being immersed in this place... these people. I know they're family, it's just with my DBT training we talked a lot about avoiding dysfunctional relationships and I worked a lot on distance and perspective regarding my family. I'm losing that now. I feel myself sliding back into the dysfunction I lived within for so many years-so long not being able to see how it hurt me.

Most of the day I find myself contemplating the massive amounts of CRAP in this house. Every nook and cranny filled with stuff. Old clothes, clearance junk, "just in case" things of every nature. So much STUFF that the place isn't functional. To me, it's also depressing. For me, the stuff signifies so much unsaid, so much unacknowledged pain and emotion. I'm frustrated by the lack of efficiency and stressed by the emotional aspect as well.

Then there is the aspect of spending the day with my mom and observing her interactions with my nephew. Each teasing comment jerks me back to childhood and hurts my heart. "You're such a crankypants." "Knock it off, I can't take anymore." "Let it go." "Get over it." She claims over and over that my nephew is normally better behaved and not as hysterical. The fact is, whenever I've been around him (even before moving in) he's been whiny and crying-especially if my sister or mother leave. Talk about separation anxiety. He nearly passes out from crying so hard. It's awful.

The relationships between my parents and my sister, my parents and each other, my sister and my mother... Ugh. There is so much weight that I feel. My mom is so lonely and tired. Still coping with the death of both her siblings last year and pining for the husband she's continually waiting for to come home. He wasn't there when they got married and he was in the Army, he wasn't there when he got out and decided to pursue a slew of hobbies full force, with every spare minute it seemed. He said he'd slow down with the tennis thing once he got his goal rating and he hasn't. I love my dad. I always will. It breaks my heart seeing the hurt he gives my mom.

It also stresses me out seeing how much my mom defends my sister while simultaneously being wore out and slipping into angry outbursts when she finally hits her limit. Watching my sister ignore her son or sensing her emotional stuffing and bitterness spike my stress. Hearing the teasing and avoidance test my anger.



So much here is weighing on me. Then there is the fear. Is this a momentary struggle, a transition period-or am I backsliding? Can I adjust to this atmosphere or is the beginning of an end in regards to my hard fought stability? I don't know.

The hubby says I need to figure out how to accept help from my mom. That I need to figure out how to tell her when I need help and I'm not safe. I just don't know that I can. She throws herself under the bus so often... I don't want to be like my sister. I don't want to contribute to her demise. I don't want to her her saying what she thinks I want to hear. My family is such a huge part of my emotional regulation problem and history, I don't know that I can ever feel safe relying on them for help.

I don't know.

Baby steps. Tears. Fears. More baby steps.


Hope I didn't tire your eyes out too badly ;o) Thanks for reading friends :o)

The First Week

We've survived the first week of living with my family. It wasn't all smooth sailing and it did go a bit better than I expected. That said, I did bottom out yesterday. Since I had made it through the week relatively well I had thought that maybe I wasn't going to crash. Well, that's what I did!

I was feeling stressed and weary and lonely already. I'm missing the time with the hubs. Chilling out just the two of us or doing errands. It's all felt very rushed and we haven't had that same alone time. Well, by Saturday evening I wasn't feel well and I was still hanging in there by a thread. I thought a night's rest would fix me right up.

Nope.

Sunday morning was awful. I had no appetite and just picked at my food. When the hubster wasn't looking I threw it away. We went for a walk thinking that would help and it didn't. My face was slack, I wasn't talking much or laughing, and my posture was slumpy and sad. I wasn't able to use my skills to get out of the funk on my own. I was able to recognize things as symptoms and identify feelings instead of take them as permanent and true, so that was a good thing.

When we got home I was weak. Just putting away some laundry wrecked me. I slumped to the floor at the end of our bed to rest. Just holding my bones up was too much. The hubs found me and made me come out to the living area and lie on the couch. I resisted. I didn't want my family to see me like that. He told me that I had no reason to be ashamed. That this is just part of who I am and there is no need to hide.

I laid there and didn't really watch the TV. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, which turned out to be wonderful. When I woke up I was able to make eye contact, communicate my needs, even eat and drink a bit.

From there I started a slow climb out. Taking initiative and getting back into the swing of things. Eating and drinking. Talking and slowly getting back into making eye contact.

While I had self harming and suicidal thoughts, I maintained some perspective and didn't feel overwhelmed or totally bottomed out mentally. The physical aspect of the crash was the worst part. My body ached something fierce and any movement seemed like a monumental effort. I was so weary, so, so weary. Even after my nap I was shuffling around, hunched over and aching. Eventually I started loosening up and straightening up. I was able to do some opposite action and conduct myself as if I were feeling better and that helped bring me up.

By the end of the day I was feeling back to good. I'm still worried about maintaining and improving my mood. I still have to find a healthy normal. I'm not sure I'm at the best gym for me and I'm still settling into a schedule for the day.

Especially challenging in the interpersonal aspect. Living with my sister and mom is quite stressful for me. Being highly sensitive I feel so many emotions around them. I sense a lot of stress and sadness. For many years now there has been a lot of "when I do this, I'll be happy" or "when I have this, I'll be good enough." I've worked a lot trying to get away from that type of thinking so being around that attitude again is a bit triggering and dangerous for me. I also don't want that for my mom and sister! So that's distressing.

Anyways. I think it's time for some hot coffee :o)

The sun has started coming out here and we're having more warm days. It's a relief after such a cold and wet winter. I'm still a bit nervous about sunburn and sweating like a pig when trying to sleep at night!

Happy Monday to all :o)

A Good Weekend

It was a good weekend. Not because anything spectacular or amazing happened. It was a good weekend because the simple things happened.


For many months I've struggled to watch or enjoy any TV or movies. If it wasn't the material triggering me or being emotionally overwhelming, my anxiety made it impossible to sit through and focus on the show. There were even times when just sitting down for a movie gave my depressed mind an open playing field for my negative and even, at times, suicidal thoughts.

The hubbo and I hadn't been able to sit down and watch something together-and truly relax-for quite a while. Last week and this weekend we were finally able to again! It was a simple pleasure, but a great time and a huge sign of progress for me.

I have to stick mostly to romantic comedies, comedies, classics, or light action (too much drama or violence and I can get scary dreams or over-stressed) but we're able to chillax and enjoy a movie together again and I'm so glad.

The hubster works hard to provide for our family and take care of me and Baby Bananaface, so he really appreciates the down time. For many moons I wasn't able to relax enough or cope with the shows-we played board or card games to keep me distracted. It was sometimes tiring or just too much for the hubster after a long day of work, cooking, and childcare.

Anywho. I've been feeling really good about this and even a bit proud. I hope to keep building my resiliency and watching more flicks that I know I enjoyed at one point in my life. Maybe I'll even test the waters with some new ones... any suggestions are much appreciated!


In other news, I wore some of the new clothes I acquired last month. A shirt my sister found for me while we were shopping and a skirt that my mom gave me for Christmas. It feels good to put an outfit together and actually put forth some effort getting dressed to go out. For so long I've just been throwing on the layers and baggy clothes, hiding in the folds and skulking about-but things are changing. Hell, I even blew dry my hair today!

Here's a pic from this weekend:

Yes, I'm rocking the sippy cup and snack bowl from BB's afternoon snack ;o)

I'm still experiencing anxiety and pretty often feel myself on the precipice of panic attacks, but more and more I'm riding the waves and utilizing those coping skills. I may not ever be symptom-free, but I'm certainly feeling more confidence about being able to cope and survive.

Happy Monday everyone, I hope y'all had good weekends too!

A Blip?

At the TMS office they talk about how recovery isn't always linear and that there can be "blips" along the way, not necessarily huge depressive episodes but a few days that send you for a spin.

Well, I think I'm blippin.

Again.

It's been a few weeks since I've felt this bad-and that's a big accomplishment going so long at "okay" levels-but it still feels horrible to be down again. It continues to amaze me how fast I can dive and how easily the darkness rips away my own mind and replaces rational thought with suicidal propaganda.

I was just beginning to feel like I was officially "feeling better" and gaining a sense of self as a healthier person and not just a sick-in-the-head patient, but in a flash that sense of self, that sprouting confidence, that hope has been ripped from me. I'm still hanging in there, but the dark thoughts are intruding and I'm so weary of the fight I just want it to be over. Win, lose, or draw doesn't matter to me in those moments, I just want out.

Such a storm of emotions when I'm caught up in these times. Anger and sadness seem to be big ones for me. I noticed today how sad and angry I was at having these thoughts and feelings seem to hijack my personality, my soul, my being. I didn't care about what happened to other people after I potentially killed myself, I just wanted the fight to be done with-and that's not the real me. The real me cares about my loved ones and believes that life is worth living and recognizes the blessings in my life, but that diseased mind dismisses it all so easily.

I've been trying to catch the dark thoughts and label them and dismiss them, usually saying something in my head like, "It's the disease... I can let that go." Or I imagine the dark thoughts like a tree releasing all it's leaves at once and I have to sweep them out of my mind. It seems to help a little, but there have been many moments where I'm simply so fed up and sad that I slump over and tear up wherever I might be. Not nice.

So today is another teary, rough day and I'm slugging along trying to stick to my schedule and keep brushing off the intrusive, bad thoughts. I wish I could read your blogs and comment and catch up but I just can't handle it right now. I think I'll go scrub some counters and clean some floors instead. Not that those are equivalent activities, but-ugh- I don't mean to be insulting. Ay, whatever! I will catch up on blogs some other time, so while I'm not there now just know that I think of you and wish I was.

Again.

Having a hard relapse. Not sure if this is last week coming back with a vengeance or a totally new front of bad mood-weather but it's taken me under like a riptide. I thought making it through the weekend meant I was back on track and outta the woods, but I guess not.

Things got pretty bad, pretty fast yesterday afternoon and even though I reached a point where I was ready to die and an eerie calm came over me, I decided to wait and see how I felt in the morning... Well, the thoughts were there to greet me this morning and I've been confused and teary and sad despite going to my regular gym class and going through the motions.

It ain't pretty. We've got an ECT appointment for tomorrow.* I'm disappointed in myself, in the hand I've been dealt... I'm just tired of fighting. The dark thoughts are so convincing, so reassuring.

I've had a variety of symptoms besides the suicidal ideation-crying and shaking and loss of expression, my face just slack and no laughter, no frustration, just "blah" from me... but nothing new. It's all familiar. I've been here before.

Sigh.

I don't know what's going to happen. I feel so "blah" about things either way it's a bit confusing. I would be happy to be snuffed out and out of the fight, I even feel dismissive about leaving behind loved ones and friends and the inconvenience and hurt that would cause-I know it's not my "right" mind but it's such a powerful sense of release that overtakes me in these deep dips... I'm sure some of you can relate.

On the other hand I can still grasp those whispering, rational thoughts that this is all temporary and the disease overtaking me and that I want to live I just don't want to continue hurting this way... Sheesh, it's downright crazy how quickly my reasonable mind is overwhelmed by these horrible, dark thoughts-like a massive, lightning quick avalanche sweeping my life off track. Ugh.

Like I said, it's confusing, but I trust the hubby and can still kinda hear that part of me that still sees the light and although there is a heavy presence of darkness in my mind I'm still edging forward toward wellness somehow.

I'm baby steppin' major today. Will try to keep the blog updated as things progress <3


*Apparently the doctors are wobbling between TMS and ECT, so things are up in the air for now but hopefully I'll find out this afternoon.... They want me to try and make it through without the ECT and stick with just the TMS, maybe do ECT Friday for "emergencies only." More confusion! Anyways. Will update later.

School Picks and Hard Licks

So Baby Bananaface had "school picks" at daycare last week and I thought y'all might appreciate a sneak peak. There are three different poses and he's pretty stoic in all of them (hubster is pretty stoked about that bit, "my little soldier" he said, whatever that means!) and you can sure see that curl in his hair, wow-ee.

The quality is pretty poor but that's all I got at the moment. You get the idea :o)

In other news I'm still battling some dark thoughts and sadness. Actually shed a few tears this afternoon and that was nice just to get some of the heavy feelings off my chest. Been feeling discouraged about this never-ending battle against these bad moods and panics and all the negatives, struggling to remember the positives about life and the reasons for living and fighting the darkness but I'm getting back to that and trying to keep up the battle.

Still trying, one moment at a time!

Happy Weekend everyone <3

A Different Sort of Update

Here is a different sort of update with a photo post and a photo of my Bananagrams game from this afternoon.

Just doing my best to keep keeping on :o)

Hope everyone is well. Happy Friday!

It Ain't Easy

Been chugging along lately doing my best and accepting that things aren't always easy or pretty. Sometimes I just have to do what I have to do to get by and that meant an ECT appointment on Thursday and means another this Wednesday as well (potentially Friday too if I'm still feeling shaky). That's more ECT than we were planning on but if it helps us avoid a major spiral, boy-howdy, we gonna do it!

We have also switched up things on the medication front by discontinuing an anti-anxiety pill (it was primarily a blood pressure medication and while I didn't get any anti-anxiety benefits I was getting a lot of dizzy spells during my exercise classes that I didn't appreciate!) and starting another mood stabilizer. I've had such little luck with these meds that my hopes aren't up very high but I do hold out some hope that I'll see some type of benefit. At least I haven't seen any hives this time (yet!).

I've been staying active with my gym classes and walk/jogging at the park down the street and I've definitely seen my mood improve and my stress decrease with the increase in activity level. I've also been reaching out to friends and trying to be more social, which can be stressful for me but also benefits me in many ways. I've even begun a new volunteer gig with the blood bank! I have to take it slow and be aware of my stress levels and anxiety but the increased activity tends to keep me outta the darker spaces in my mind and I think is the right way to go for me :o)

In other news, my uncle isn't doing so hot. Like, he could go any minute type of thing. Apparently he has three types of cancer and some other health issues that make treatment impossible and it's complicated and not pretty.

This is my mom's brother and I think I mentioned on here that her sister, my favorite and bestest aunt, died this past January while I was hospitalized the 2nd time-so having her brother pass in the same year... I mean, come on. She's having a tough time. I don't know what more to say about it other than I'm hoping that he is comfortable and that his son gets to see him before he passes, he hasn't been doing so great for years so it's not shocking or that unexpected, but definitely still sad and a shift for our family.

Oh, speaking of, my sister had her gallbladder out. That was unexpected but not necessarily shocking because she's had wonky health issues and if anyone was gonna have their gallbladder out at 23 it would be my sister...

Anyways. My thoughts have been doing some racing and I've had some dark moments but thankfully my DBT skills have been helping a lot. Sort of odd, there was a local shooting and one of the victims was a babysitter that the hubs and I used during my first hospitalization... hearing that on the news definitely stirred up some feelings! So scary having something like that hit so close to home. Ugh.

This post is all over the place but so be it. Life is happening and it ain't neat and pretty or easy, it just is!

Sorry if I haven't been keeping up with your posts lately. I haven't been on the computer much at all but I've been thinking about it and wondering about everyone! Thanks for reading :o)

"Think Less, Do More"

"Think less, do more" is the mantra recommended to me by my therapist to try and combat my reoccurring suicidal thoughts and just plain mean internal monologues of late that aren't any help to anyone.

It's certainly been helpful to me staying active and busy, my gym classes and more chores and walks and reading have been helping me cope and I achieved quite a few decent days for a good stretch there a week or so ago... but these past few days have been challenging and while they haven't been completely and totally awful they have had more than their fair share of negativity. Some days I haven't been able to cope very well at all and have felt hopeless and miserable but I also know that there have been many times that I am able to use my skills and keep myself from bottoming out completely and I'm proud of that.

So far, today has been better than the last few days but I'm still feeling unstable and fearful of dark thoughts. I thought of the mantra and dragged myself out of bed, adhering the to traditional morning practices of getting dressed for the gym and putting brekkie together and making the hubster's coffee. We began a game of Upwords and I took the dog out for his morning constitutional before kissing the boys goodbye and heading to the gym.

I didn't cry in class today (that happened in yoga class yesterday, I can't claim that I was totally stable to begin with but it was this song that really tipped me over the edge-I was wishing so hard that I could easily, simply change and be better for the hubster and BB as I listened). I got a good workout but wasn't quite ready to face the empty condo and lunch so I walked/jogged at the park until I felt spent. Big news, I made my own lunch today! That's a big deal! Lately I haven't had much appetite and have been inclined to skip eating so just to make sure I eat I end up getting some sort of fast food to just say I've eaten. Today I made a sandwich!

Anyways. Life has been tough lately. I have been emotional and frustrated, spitting angry at times (I seem to be struggling to accept that this is my life and that struggling against the darkness is likely always going to be a part of my life) and then alternately overwhelmingly grateful for the hubster and so loving toward him that it eases my pain for a while... it's been a roller coaster.

Thankfully the hubby recognizes that I'm in a dip and experiencing a challenging time and has been supportive. When my weekend didn't improve and Monday was still rough we decided to call into ECT and get another appointment, so I've got that coming up Thursday. I'm hoping that I'll feel better by then but we decided it would be best to have an appointment made and not need it than try to white-knuckle it.

I'm trying to do my best and stick with the DBT skills and soldier through the rough patch but it's definitely brought up a lot of my fears and confusion about my variety of treatments and what is working and what isn't and if I'm getting better; the wise-minded part of me believes that I'm making progress but the darkness can easily convince me that I'm not getting better and that I won't get better and that nothing works for me. I think I summed it all up as, "I'm trying to get better and I'm doing whatever I can to get better and that's better than giving in and just killing myself so just keep trying."

Well. I love typing and I could type all day but I feel like the loudmouth at a party that's run her mouth for too long! So I'll wish everyone well and hope that y'all are having good days :o)

Off to keep at keeping my head above water!

<3

Rough

Today definitely had more than its fair share of rough patches. My DBT skills were harder to use than normal  (call with my therapist was a big help) and I fell into some very dark thoughts more often than I'd like to admit. Flashes of suicide techniques stalked me throughout the day and I've been struggling to keep positive thoughts in my mind and remind myself that life is worth living. We hope that today was rock bottom and things are gonna get better from here, if not I might be back in for some more ECT very soon. :o(

One moment at a time...

Today

Up and down. I started out feeling pretty good this morning knowing that I had my ECT appointment and anticipating relief from my bad feelings, although I was a little nervous because ECT moved to a different hospital and the new surroundings were unfamiliar. I was glad to see familiar faces in the nurses, receptionist, and doctor though.

My appointment went pretty well. Didn't like the anesthesiologist today but they are usually different every time so hopefully I won't have to deal with him again (he started my IV and put it in my hand because it was easiest for him even though I said that it hurt me a lot last time they did that and then he didn't offer to use the lidocaine before the meds to prevent the stinging pain but luckily the treatment nurse that is almost always by my side for treatment remembered my previous experience and encouraged him to use the lidocaine).

I spoke with my doctor about how I've been on a downward slide the last week or so and how the hubster and I were thinking that the next time we would schedule a little sooner, like 2-1/2 weeks instead of 3 to try to prevent me from suffering and having to face the suicidal thoughts and such. She agreed that that was reasonable and sounded like a good idea, even saying that it might help us increase the time between treatments in the long run by avoiding those downward slides instead of me suffering through them.

I felt pretty good immediately after treatment but after lunch I got really tired, my shoulders tensed up, my thoughts started racing, and I began having really emotional moments-good and bad-where I'd suddenly feel immensely grateful and joyous or horribly sad and discouraged. It's been a tough afternoon. I wish I could go to the gym or go for a run/walk at the park but just walking the loop at a slow saunter took some work.

The hubby convinced me to take some Ativan to try and soothe my racing thoughts and reduce some of my tension and I think it's helping a little bit although I did have some major anger flares right after taking it. I think having him sort of managing my coping plan and having BB hollering in the background on top of my discomforts drove me over the edge. I even hollered a bit! Very unusual for me!

Oh, in other news I took a rather nice picture at lunch to send my mom and I thought I'd share it here. Not to often that I feel this good about a picture I take!

Kinda funny story, that drink in front of me is a strawberry lemonade with strawberry puree that they make in-house and it sounded delightful and yet I didn't like it. I swapped it for ice tea for no charge (which I also didn't like much but it was all right enough and I didn't want to refuse a second drink). Well, I ordered this skirt steak sandwich and I didn't like that either (the sweet potato fries and sauce were the best I've ever had anywhere though). I ended up taking three bites of the sandwich just to make sure I didn't like it, even the hubster wasn't interested and at the end of the meal we had over half the sandwich sitting on the plate. The lovely waitress noticed and after we refused a box she asked if I didn't like the sandwich either and I couldn't lie. She ended up taking it off our tab completely! So while I didn't enjoy the drinks or the sandwich, the fries were amazing and service was even more impressive.

Now I'm just going to be trying to cope and make it through the night, hoping tomorrow is better. At least tomorrow I'll be back in exercise class which usually helps at least a little with my mood.

It's the 11th.

I tend to lose track of the days but today after gym class I was fairly confident that it was the 11th and indeed, it is! What does that mean? It means that it's been 3 months since I attempted suicide. It means that in 3 months I've gone from trying to kill myself to attending group exercise classes multiple times a week, making dinner at least twice a week, taking charge of Baby Bananaface for short periods, participating in social events, keeping up with my meds, shifting my internal bullying towards self-care, and so many other little (big) steps towards taking care of myself and making my way back towards thriving instead of just barely surviving.

I don't want to dive too deep into all the feelings and thoughts that this anniversary stirs up for me because I've been getting ambushed and overwhelmed by intense emotions lately and I don't want to step into a trap! That said, I do want to mention how it brings up some mixed feelings and a bit of confusion. I find myself cheering myself on and feeling proud and then I also find myself feeling sad and tearful and afraid of that darkness that nearly ended me, that darkness that still lives in me and could return at any time.

I've come a long way and I'm proud of that. I'm grateful that my wonderful husband saved my life and I'm also sickened by the thought of what I nearly did to him and Baby Bananaface. I feel shame and sadness and fear but then I feel happiness and gratitude and pride. It's a confusing mix, but I think it's reasonable. These are complicated things after all.

So today I'm working on being kind to myself while I work through my schedule and to-do list, keeping busy and warding off the bad thoughts. I piped up about the anniversary to the hubs and asked if we could go out for a bit of a celebration dinner and we've got plans for later which makes me happy :o)

Things are a little overwhelming/confusing but I'm just gonna ride the wave and accept where I am right now. Things happen. This is where I am now. Where I'll be when doesn't matter so much as taking things one moment at a time and accepting and loving and caring for myself the best that I can along the way so that I can love and live for my friends and family (including my bloggin' buddies!).

Today is the 11th. Today I am actively living my day and taking care of myself. Today is a good day.

<3

A Monday Walkabout (with a video!)

I'm sorry that I'm not very tech savvy and that not everyone may be able to see the vlog but I'm trying something new and hopefully I will figure out the quirks soon!

This video and these pictures are from a walk I took this morning to a nearby park with boardwalks and lots of birds and running water and some funny smells and even garter snakes and snails and slugs and beyond. I really needed to get out and the overcast weather was more welcoming to me than the idea of the gym.

Little flowers along the boardwalk!

A little overview of the wetlands.
You can't quite see the boardwalks,
but they're there!