What To Do When the Fog Lifts For a Week and Then an Agitated Cycle Begins

I have no fucking idea.

One day, I wake up, and just like that (picture me snapping my fingers), I feel ok. I feel functional. 10 days later and I'm agitated, irritable, eating in ways that are out of control, unable to tolerate being around people, feeling fatigued and hopeless and all of the same old same old. It hurts to have a period of relative contentment and then have it ripped away just as you were beginning to feel somewhat normal.

I'm so tired of all this.

Dear Brain,

Thanks a pantsful.

Love,
Bea

P.S. - I am trying to stay positive and I don't want to be mean to you, Brain, but you're making it very difficult.

What To Do When the Fog Lifts

Over the past week the fog has lifted somewhat for me. When this happens, I want to take advantage of the opportunity, because I just never know how long it will last. I'm not bursting with joy mind you, but I feel more functional, less fatigue, less hopelessness, and less of a need to isolate myself from others.

I feel like if I can create some positive routines and try to stick with them as long as possible, perhaps I can stave off another depressed or agitated cycle for as long as possible. I'm a rapid-cycler so there's a certain inevitability of losing my grip, but while this time is here I want to make the most of it. And maybe when the next cycle comes I can try to hold on to some of the routines I create now, and keeping that structure and doing things that make me feel good will make the cycle shorter. This is something I've discussed with my therapist, and have had a few successes with it, and hope to have more over time.

I am usually able to complete a few self-care rituals daily, regardless of cycle, which I think I've mentioned: washing face 2x/day and using acne products, brush 3x/day, floss 1x/day, eat a nutritious breakfast, meditate, take all meds, keep all psych appointments, keep mood journal, keep sleep as regular as possible. It took a long time to be able to hold on to these things, but now they're MINE. I own them and they're a part of my life. This is a source of pride for me.

I have a harder time with keeping a regular exercise regimen, preparing and eating healthy lunches and dinners, avoiding binges, maintaining some semblance of a social life, and avoiding vicious inner monologues. These are the things that I can't seem to get a grip on. I have started on these tasks over the past few days and am trying to move forward with my mission of kindness to self as best I can. The more time I spend being kind to myself cumulatively, it has to add up to a better quality of life, I have to believe that.

I am going to try to write more on this blog while I have this period of greater clarity. Then maybe when I start another cycle I can look back and feel hopeful. It's hard to know when you're in a depressive state that you will ever NOT feel that way again. If I write about it, that will be tangible proof - I WILL see the light of day again. It's not a matter of if, but when, and I just need to hold on until that day comes.

I'd like to come out and play, get out into the real world. I still feel scared though, despite being in a better place I still feel scared. Working on my confidence is another part of being kind to myself, but I honestly have no idea how to even begin doing that. I need someone to sing this song outside my window.

The Dream is Over

I had a dream that there would be a medication that would help me to be like other people. To feel stable. To enjoy things. To not fantasize about harming myself. For one month of my life, I had that, with Pristiq, but it pushed me over the edge into a manic state. I can't take antidepressants because they don't work, and Lamictal hasn't worked either. I always said to my therapist that I didn't expect medication to be a panacea for all my problems. Well, I lied to her and I lied to myself. And now I have to come to terms with the fact that my miracle drug doesn't exist.

My life is mine and I'm the one who's going to have to turn things around. I don't know how. I know I don't want to go to school for social work, but I can't think of anything else to do and I can't bear the idea of another year of just doing nothing. I can't figure out a path.

I have to have control over my mind. I have to be in charge of my fate. I have to conquer my fears. Yet I am quivering in the corner, and have been my whole life.

I've been weeping on and off all day for various reasons, things on tv or things that upset me at work or thinking of the futility of my career prospects. But I think the tears are really all about the fact that the dream is over.

The dream is over. The dream is over. The dream is over. Time to wake up. The dream is over.

Interesting Link

Found a worthwhile article, topic is "How to Be Kind to Yourself." The whole website seems interesting, I will check it out further when I am less zonked on xanax.

Favorite quote: "The past is dust." I almost want to get that tattooed right over my scars.

An old favorite, to bid you goodnight:

Buddha, You Are the Bomb

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”

Another Stream

Had an interesting though on bipolar today. I equated it with being a bully in therapy. Later, I thought to myself, the only way to defeat a bully is to stand up to him. So, this evening I had a self-deprecatory thought, and I said, "Shut the fuck up. I am tired of your shit. Just shut your God damn mouth." It actually worked. Maybe anthropomorphizing bipolar could be helpful, will try it out. Obviously this is a big bitch who will often defeat me, but it's important that I stand up for myself when these cruel thoughts come to me. My therapist says part of that is actually BELIEVING that I am not worthless, etc, so I can say that aloud and make an affirmation of it whenever negative thoughts come along. That will be a challenge, to say the least.

Bipolar disorder is one entity that I do not have to be kind to. Since I am something of a church mouse in real life, I kind of am in love with the idea of being verbally abusive to my negative thoughts, or as I like to call it, my nasty bitchassery to myself.

One for the road:

So Alone, So Afraid

Lately I am afraid to be alone at night. Friday I had a day where I called in sick, couldn't get out of bed, was immobilized. Since then I have this dread, this knot in my stomach, as the night approaches and I know I am going to be left alone with my horribly cruel thoughts. I've read a lot of posts on other sites with similar themes. I hope we are all able to come out from under the dark cloud somehow.

Stream of Consciousness

Woke up at 7am, exercised/stretched/meditated, took shower, ate breakfast, took 2x adderall and other meds, went to movies, went to brunch w/ roommates and then took 1x adderall. Mike (brother) came over to borrow some money, talked to him for quite a while about school, college, jobs, etc. Now as I sit here alone the fear is beginning to set in. I am on edge, starting to feel the dark cloud approaching. I feel agitated and upset for no particular reason. I was very scared last night and even after taking 3 xanax had trouble sleeping, I listened to music and left the light of my iPod on, finally fell off about 1am. This fear is difficult to explain, it's like an agitation in my arms and a sense of dread deep in my gut. I am afraid of the dark thoughts. When I meditate, I say, "I can fight intrusive thoughts. They are not an accurate depiction of reality." This helps somewhat, but it just seems that when the adderall wears off the fear sets in. It's very difficult to distract myself from it - reading, watching tv, playing a computer game, etc, are not effective. Talking to others seems to help but paradoxically I do not want to be around others in this state. I often want to hear my mom's voice during periods like this but obviously she is not always available. Also, I can't talk to her about what the problem is, we just have to talk about something else. I am crying as I'm writing this right now. Thinking of how I can't tell my own mother what goes on in my mind reminds me of how alone I am. I have no friends or family that I can speak to about this. Thank God for my therapist.

I am fighting the urge to just get under the covers and weep, but I don't know what else to do.                            

Crippled Inside

I came to work a half hour late today without having showered. I decided I'd rather eat breakfast and watch an episode of "House" on the DVR than be clean and punctual. At least I fed myself a healthy meal. And I did wash my face and put on my zit cream and brush my teeth. And I didn't call in sick. I picked up my computer about 12 times to e-mail my bosses that I was staying home, but I showed up. I also knocked into a kid trying to get on the train before the doors closed. (She didn't fall or anything, thank God.) I apologized twice but felt so bad that I cried for like 4 subway stops. Good thing no one in New York gives a shit. (Seriously, I mean that, in those moments I don't want to be bothered.) At any rate, you win some, you lose some. But I have to keep trying. Little things add up, so says my therapist. Any rituals I can maintain helps me to hang on to the life I want.

Rituals I have success with:
-Washing face AM/PM, acne cream, etc.
-Brush teeth 3x/day, floss 1x/day
-Eating a nutritious breakfast
-Meditation

Rituals I have a high failure rate with:
-Exercise (strength training, walking)
-Stretching/Relaxing exercises
-Eating a healthy lunch and dinner

Most days lately I want to curl up into a ball and hide from the world. One thing you can't hide, is when you're crippled inside.

I Am Terrible At Blogging

So I'm back. I really wish I were better about posting to my blog that no one reads. I got a new computer recently (Macbook Pro with my tax check, HOLLA) and I've been keeping a "mood calendar" using iCal (I hate that title because it sounds like a calorie counting mechanism when it is just a regular old calendar). I'm trying to keep track of how I feel on a daily basis, noting what went well and what didn't, how I'm eating and sleeping - basically something I can look back on to sort of track the highs and lows and perhaps make more sense of things.

I will confess to being very depressed lately. I am hypersensitive and very raw. I cry about everything. There are some ridiculous examples which I will list for comic relief. There have been lots of incidents like this, but here are the highlights:

• One morning I somehow got to thinking of the movie Aladdin, and I was thinking (SPOILER) about how selfless Aladdin was to use his last wish to set Genie free, even though it meant not being able to marry Jasmine. (Thank God the Sultan changed his mind on that one, AMIRITE?) Waterworks ensued.
• I cried when someone died during a HORROR MOVIE, and it wasn't even a main character. Not because I was scared, but because I was legitimately sad.
• I was watching "Arrested Development" and in a tender moment between Michael and George Michael - you guessed it, tears were a-flowin'. During.Arrested.Development, the funniest show in tv history. Take a moment, take it in.

I also have cried about things that are decidedly not funny:

• I cry out of feelings of guilt and shame. Sometimes I am in touch with something I feel guilty about from years passed, other times I feel guilt and shame seemingly without any reason I can identify.
• I have cried because I am terrified of the financial repercussions of doing an MSW program and don't know if it's wise for me to take on the amount of debt required to complete the program. Yet I also don't want to continue doing a whole lot of nothing while everyone else I know from college prospers in their respective careers. Yet I am ambivalent about whether it's the right career for me. One big mess.
• I have cried because I'm lonely.
• I have cried because I feel deformed because of my SI scars.
• Yesterday I cried when I saw a woman open up a bag of Bugles on the subway. I haven't seen them on store shelves in a long time. My great-grandmother used to always have those at her house when she had get togethers when I was a kid. She died when I was 16, and I miss her. I miss being at her house, being young, being the only great-grandchild who had been born yet. I miss Nannie and Aunt Pat, who lived with Great-Grandma - they have also passed. I miss the smell of her house, the toys she kept in the closet especially for me, and even their dog Kerry who scared me half to death. But feel free to chuckle about someone breaking out a bag of Bugles and me bursting into tears.

Normally, rule #1 for me is, "Don't let other people see you cry." I have been successful in this, letting no one see me cry but my therapist, mother, and strangers on the subway who don't give a fuck anyway. But it's bleeding into my everyday life, it's getting harder to hide, and I don't know what to do. I cry multiple times throughout the day. I can't make it stop.

I was always a highly-sensitive child, like I'd cry if I saw someone with Down's syndrome or in a wheelchair because I felt sorry for them, which I realize now is condescending and offensive but as a 7 year old didn't quite see it that way. But this is like nothing I've ever experienced, and it's been going on since like September - October of last year. My psychiatrist and therapist have no cures, at least not yet. I don't understand how I can stop something like this, something that comes from so deep inside, something that just HAPPENS without my consent.

I wish I had some bipolar readers, or any readers really, who had any thoughts or tips. Until then, I march on alone.

Decisions, Decisions

I was accepted into a social work program. It's at the same school where I did my undergrad work - the same school I dreamed of going to, then got in and got scholarships to make it work, then went fucking crazy and was miserable the entire time. I achieved my lifelong dream and it was taken from me, and let me tell you, it stings. This feels like maybe a second chance. I'll be working full time and going to school part time, so it won't be quite the same, but I can at least now perhaps be more engaged in my coursework and possibly make a new friend who shares my interests. I'm not quite convinced that social work is right for me, but it's been 6 years since I graduated college, 6 years of doing nothing, I've got to try something. Even if it doesn't work out, I took a shot - an EXPENSIVE shot that I'll be paying for until death, but a shot nonetheless.

I just took the Myers-Briggs personality test online. I've taken it many times before and I always get the same thing - INFJ. This personality is actually called "The Counselor" (which is what I'd like to use the social work degree for, counseling) and is apparently the rarest of all types (no surprise, I'm kind of off). I really do want to help people and I can be quite intuitive about others' problems. My worry is that I'm something of a psychic sponge. I take in people's sadness, pain, emotions...I just carry them with me. I am going to have to learn how to not do this, to do it less, or at least to cope with it.

What's Not Working

Pictured:
Antibiotics for cystic acne
Abilify and Lamictal for bipolar disorder

They're just not helping.

Feeling a little frustrated.

Love In The Time Of Bingeing

I have been unable to stop myself from binge eating lately. I have made myself physically ill on a number of occasions, doubled over in pain. This has been deeply upsetting. I feel like the progress I made with intuitive eating is going down the tubes largely because of my mood cycling, which often causes me to eat compulsively.

It is hard to love oneself when you are behaving in a way that's out of control and abusive to yourself. Can you love your abuser? I think I need to develop a sort of Stockholm syndrome - where I sympathize with my abuser (me). There are a few things I'd like to say.

Body: I AM SORRY for what I'm doing to you. Please forgive me, I know not what I do. (There's ALWAYS occasion for a Bryan Adams reference.)
Brain: Please stop fucking with me.

I've been feeling really down on myself but I am going to try my best to keep on being kind to me. I wish I had more guidance as to how to go about it. It's frankly counterintuitive to me - a life of self-abuse and abuse from others will do that to you. I wish I had readers so I could get some tips!

Why Can't You Be Nicer to Me?

It's been a while. I am going to try to continue to blog and write about my struggles with bipolar disorder, my eating issues, and my nasty bitchassery toward myself. I just got a new computer (yay!) so I think that will make it a little easier to get things going.

Cycles

I am in a bad cycle. I don't really know what else to say.

I'm trying to hold on to my life. To hold on to what's important and know that this won't last.

Amotivation: Why Put Off Until Tomorrow What You Can Do Next Week?

I have a terrible problem with amotivation and procrastination. Seriously. Some days at work I will just sit at my desk staring into space. I'll read blogs but I can't even really enjoy them because of the guilt I feel about not doing my work and the anxiety I feel about how, well, it eventually needs to get done.

I am having this problem right now as we speak (or as I type, I guess I should say).

I sound my barbaric yawp over the blogs of the internet - does anyone have any suggestions about this?

I'm laughing right now about the barbaric yawp since no one knows about this blog but me. I send this question out into the void and will see what happens.

Checking In On Resolutions

So it's now March 2nd, and I've been working on this "be kind to me" thing since November 1st, the 27th birthday of yours truly. So it's been 4 months. Let's see how it's been going:

Taking Care Of My Body: 
Intuitive Eating. I've been doing  fairly well with this. I try to cook my own meals, eat what I want, eat what will make my body feel good, etc. I do have a binge eating problem but it seems to be getting better.

Exercise. Meh. My walks (which really are great for my mood) are sporadic. I do a bit of strengthening exercises here and there, and I've been good about stretching most days. I haven't had the sack to go join the Y and swim. I literally dream about swimming, I want to do it so much. I really want to get over this bathing suit issue and woman up already. Still huffing and puffing getting up the stairs to my 4th floor walk-up apartment.

Sleep. Some ups and downs, but mostly a thumbs up here.

Going for a physical. Haha, no. Not there yet. But I did ask my psychiatrist to order a full work up when I went to get blood work, and apparently I'm healthy! Cholesterol, blood sugar, etc are ok. Thyroid slightly underactive but nothing to be worried about at this point. When are we going to be able to convince people that teh fatz can be healthy too?!?!

Going to the dentist.  I have an appointment for a cleaning in 2 weeks. Win!

Respecting My Body. Body love is a long way off but I have gotten much better about being respectful of my body, not having hurtful/nasty inner-monologues about my appearance, etc.

Taking Care Of My Mind: 
Seeing my therapist. Check and mate. Going twice a week and  committed to the process.

Seeing my psychiatrist. He's working on tweaking the meds. Hopefully we'll get there. But I am going to appointments and am also committed to the process here, so high five! Anyone? Anyone?

Meditation. Do this pretty much every morning for a few minutes.  I 'm very proud of this.

Taking Care Of My Spirit:
I lately have come to really stop believing in the concept of a spirit so I think I want to rename this category "Karma Police." 
Find a career that's meaningful to me (and helps others). Very little ground gained here. I applied to 2 MSW programs but don't think I even want to enroll, regardless of whether I get in or not. This is a tough one. I think I need to stop thinking about it and try to just get my feet wet trying new things. (FYI: I am scared of new things.)

Be kind to others. I try. I try really hard. This is by far the most important of all my mini-resolutions. When I'm dead if anyone remembers one thing about me, I would want it to be that I was kind to others. Sometimes with mood swings I want to rip peoples' faces off for even speaking to me or looking at me or making a noise in my general vicinity, but I am usually good about hiding this desire, and have a 100% rate of success in terms of not face ripping, which is pretty amazing when you think about it. <<Golf claps>>

Not too shabby! Will check in again, uh, at some point.

Bipolars of the world, unite. You have nothing to lose but your chains!

I think I am going to attend a bipolar support group meeting on Wednesday. I'm kind of nervous.

One day a few years back I was in Barnes and Noble and the title of a book caught my eye: "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway." I didn't look at the book because as a general rule I try to stay away from the self-help section; I feel like most of it is a bunch of bollocks written by charlatans trying to make a buck off people who are struggling. But I did like that title. Maybe I'll give it a shot.

Song in my head today:

Am I Going To Keep Up With This Blogging Shit Or What?

I'll be straight: I had a bad reaction to a new medication I was tried on and was kind of out of commission for a bit. But I'm pulling myself out of the hole and trying to ease back into the game. I had actually completely forgotten about my little burgeoning blog, but thought of it today. I was looking at a bunch of tumblrs I like and I thought to myself, "I have a voice too! There is a mother fucking light inside me that needs to shine too!!!!"

Today I was thinking that instead of wasting time, energy, and resources on this horse shit "obesity epidemic" - maybe we should take some time to address a more serious issue, the fucking self-loathing epidemic. It hits minoritized and demonized populations the hardest, but no one is immune, not even the default person (straight white dudes, I know you feel it too). I have some more thoughts on this that I will get into those on a future post (maybe), but I just wanted to put this out there, just in terms of my own experience: There is nothing I have done in my life to deserve the level of hatred I have for myself. Like anyone, I have a heap of things I've done that I'm not proud of. But, I mean, do I strangle cats in my spare time? Do I punch babies in the face? Have I killed anyone? (Just to be clear: no.) It seems that the great sins I have committed are as follows:

• I have consumed more calories on an average day than my body burns.
• I have cystic acne and scaring on my face.
• I have scars on my arms and legs from a period when I was very sick and hurt myself.
• I'm bipolar.

There is no moral component to any of this, at all. And yet I berate and belittle and isolate myself because I feel as if no one could love someone so ... all of the above. It's got to stop, but I hardly know where to begin. I've had these feelings for quite some time; they won't go away overnight. I think I have taken a strong first step in giving up dieting. I'm trying to be comfortable in my own skin but it's hard. I'm going to keep reading the blogs of people who don't hate themselves (yay Fat Acceptance!) and hopefully some of it will rub off on me.

Sometimes, when I get sad, or feel alone with the above bulleted list, I imagine that "Hey Jude" was written especially for me. Just for me. Thanks Paul.

Still Looking for My Antediluvian Baby

Song I am singing to myself as a self-soothing mechanism on this stressful day at work:

I don't have the opening monologue memorized, for those who were curious, I just do the musical parts.

Wins and Fails

Today was a mix of wins and fails. I tend to be a very black and white thinker ... usually I'd let the fails be all I focued on; the positive things I do never matter unless I've done everything right. This attitude has prevented me from achieving much of anything in my entire life, and it's time I started working on it. Let's get a rundown on the good and the bad.

Wins:

• I went grocery shopping and have got enough food for the week.
• I did a fair bit of walking, which was unplanned, and improved my mood.
• I spent time with my grandmother, and helped my family by walking and feeding the dog and feeding the cats while they were away at a party.
• I made my mom a mix cd which she really enjoyed.
• I left my brother his favorite peanut-butter filled pretzels from TJ's on his pillow while I was over my family's house with a note that said "I <3 U."  (He's 14, I was trying to speak his language.)
• I was cordial to my mom's husband, which is a struggle (I may or may not get into that on this blog).
• I left my roommate a small gift with a funny note.
• I worked on planning a surprise party for my other roommate.
• I meditated this morning.

Fails:

• I didn't do my stretching exercises (I am hoping to do them later though, they really help me feel less tense/rigid).
• If you knew the last time I'd showered, you'd vomit in your mouth (another thing I plan to do later ... not vomit in my mouth, I'm going to shower, in case that was unclear).
• I've been festering on bad memories all day instead of completing the thought/memory and then letting it go, as my therapist and I have discussed. I've just been in a shit mood, and I realize that unproductively focusing on so much past negativity and pain has been a huge part of the reason why.
• I stuffed a brownie down my gullet that I saw in the fridge without really tasting or enjoying it. In that moment I was unable to control my behavior. The loss of control is what bothers me, not that I ate a brownie. I'll eat 12 fucking brownies if I want. I just hate the feeling of not making the choice. Also, I like to enjoy my food, and I didn't even TASTE this bitch.
• I didn't complete my MSW applications as I had intended to, and just don't have the energy to do it tonight.

I am going to attempt to give myself some credit for my positive accomplishments, and do my best to rectify what didn't work out. This is a new strategy for me, hopefully it'll yield some new results.

Come Undone

Yesterday I felt like someone wanted to destroy my sweater, and held the thread as I walked away.

To explain that more clearly: I became unhinged after skipping my 2 mile walk and having a binge Wednesday night. I just lost it. I couldn't go to work the next day, I felt completely incapacitated. I stayed under the blankets most of the morning, wanting to just hide from the entire world. I felt as if all the good work I'd done in the last 2 months in terms of learning to stay calm and keep my emotions separate from my actions was slipping away from me, that these abilities would soon be gone, and I'd be back to square 1.

But I did something about it. I ate breakfast, then a chocolate chip cookie, then lunch, then did pilates, then went for that 2 mile walk I missed the day before, then went to therapy. I came home and made dinner and ate until satisfied, took a shower, read for a while, and went to bed. I made it through the day. And today I came to work. I became unhinged and it didn't turn into a 6-8 week cycle of depression and self-destructive behavior. I got back in the driver's seat. I slipped and I got back up. This is new terrain for me. I think it's a combination of my meds and the other positive things I'm trying to do for myself in my life (see my list in my first post), but I feel stronger as a result of this. I'm trying to look at this as a lesson - everyday is just one day. And crazily enough I actually feel proud of me. This is something I rarely feel about myself, so it's kind of a big deal, so I'm going to say it again: I feel proud of me.

It Don't Come Easy

This love of mine keeps growing all the time, but you know it don't come easy.

While I have nothing but love for Ringo, I prefer George's demo.

Fat Acceptance

Do you know what I like? Fat Acceptance. I feel like the only way I'm ever going to be comfortable in my own skin is to accept the body I have right now at this very minute. This is a daunting task. So many years of messages from media, family, and friends, and they all can be reduced to this simple motto: "skinny is pretty, fat is ugly." Fuck all that. I am doing things to make my body feel physically stronger and healthier, because it's something I want for myself, but I have no interest in dieting. That whole cycle is an epic waste of time and a collossal source of heartache. Once I am able to lose my anxiety around food, feel in control of my consumption, and stop bingeing, my weight will stabilize where my body wants it to be - lighter than I am now, heavier than I am now, who can say? Whatever it is, I will need to work on accepting it. It's not easy. It's a challenge to love what you've been conditioned your entire life to hate - a fat body.

I used to read all these blogs where people would post their daily oatmeal breakfasts and every morsel of food they'd consumed all day and every bit of marathon training or Bikram Yoga they'd done (not that there's anything wrong with that, just not appealing to me). I realized that I just don't have any interest in a lifestyle that's that extreme.  Slowly, I have moved over to reading FA blogs, and WOW, they make me feel like I'm normal, as opposed to lazy and self-indulgent, as some other "healthy living" blogs often do.