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.