Removing the Option to Quit

Today is the first day that we have had actual Autumn-like weather.  It is dreary out, the days of sunshine prior are slowly erasing themselves from my memory, until it feels like every day for the past ten years has been this way.  This removal of hope that happens to me from time to time, it’s happening, and like I sometimes (but not always) do, this time I am refusing to give myself the option to quit on myself.

I have too much going for me to give up.  I can’t promise that the thoughts won’t sneak in, but for this moment and for at least today, I will not quit on myself.  I will keep plodding, one foot in front of the other, and I will come out victorious in the Spring, surviving and possibly even conquering this beast in my brain that seems to be so loud and demanding through the colder months.

Continuing on from my last post, that strategy of hunkering down and just slogging through it will remain, will keep on.  I am not going to detail the daily woes of life, because that gets me nowhere.  I accept that I am depressed, moving through a mixed cycle, cycling, paranoid, racing thoughts, nightmares, feeling unsafe, and avoiding most people, most places, most interactions.  I acknowledge and then I move forward.  Maybe tomorrow will be better, I really have no way of knowing for sure, but I can work my hardest to keep shuffling toward days filled with more sunlight and green carpets of grass and natural warmth on my skin.  I will not let today’s troubles swallow me whole, spitting me out to be useless and lying still on the carpet all day.

I will do the things I need to do, I will follow the lists, I will cherish my blessings, and I will persevere, because there is really no other acceptable answer.  Above all, remember that a simple kindness can be the push that gets a person through a hard day.  Don’t be shy, throw a pebble at my window.  I will likely be both surprised and grateful, and will almost certainly return the favor.

Hunkering Down: Wise Advice From an Even Wiser Friend

A rough few days had left me feeling emotionally raw, reactive, completely in emotion mind.  Without a shred of reason to be found within  my decidedly ailing body, mind, spirit, I phoned a friend.  Kind of like you can do on that show, “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire,” although I’m not sure that show is still on or if it’s still played that way.  Either way, the premise is the same — unsure of yourself, phone a friend and get some insight.

I didn’t directly ask for advice, but she knows me pretty well and she told me something she has told me time and time again — not everything is because of mental illness, a lot of it is just life.  Life sucking, maybe, but just life, not a symptom.  Not something to have a med change over or make any sort of drastic change over.  Her advice to me:  hunker down, a lot of it will pass.

And she’s right, a lot of this will pass.  A lot of the bad feelings are from having several major changes and being uber-busy, and now the settling comes.  We are moved, settling in, the house is set up, settle down a little more, make new routines, practice better habits, interact more or less or not at all with certain people.  Change, a lot of it, over the past few months, and change, even more than that, over the past couple of years.

It’s time to settle down, let the dust clear, see what shakes out.  Feeling bad doesn’t necessarily mean I need to have a med increase or a routine change or for anything AT ALL to happen.  My friend’s wise words, “hunker down,” made so much sense when she said them.  They made even more sense when I sat on my front porch in the fresh air, with the sun shining warmth on my face, contrasting with the cool breeze through my hair.

It was funny when Dad said almost the same thing not even an hour later, except he said, “I’m glad you were able to defend in place today and keep from going to the hospital.”  He said that, because this morning I was feeling terrible enough that I was thinking of going to the hospital, and I cancelled on seeing him or my nephew.

So, defend in place, hunker down, that’s what is going to be happening for me.  Can’t hurt, might help.

Image result for pass like a kidney stone meme

100% Success Rate For Over 35 Years

That’s right, I have kept myself alive 100% of the time for over 35 years now.  Maybe that’s a funny way of looking at things, but when you live a life that very often involves suicidal ideation or, on the flip side, very dangerous and risky behavior, you have to figure that 100% is a pretty good number at the end of a 35 year stretch.

For all of the moments of “give up” I have had in the past, the fleeting “give ups” that I have at present, and the “give ups” that I know are going to be thoughts in my future as a person who deals with mental illness, I can say that, at this very moment in time, I have no “give ups” in me, at this current time.

Of course, that could change within the next hour or week or month or whatever period of time you can conceive of.  And, it probably will.  But when things are semi-ok, when I have a day, even just a single day where I feel like I have passed through like a semi-successful human being, I need to write it down, to commemorate it, to throw it a freaking ticker-tape parade.  Sometimes I can go really long stretches without a day like today, and every great once in awhile, I will have a string of “give up” free days.  I don’t have a string of them at the moment, but I have today.

Today was a pretty good day.  I had only very fleeting thoughts of going up, and for the most part my mind just kept pushing me to go on farther, harder, faster, better, more efficient, more brave.  I went into a craft store today, and I did not totally freak out while inside, and spent the better part of 30 minutes in there.  That is no small feat, because as a general rule for the past months, I go absolutely nowhere, not even usually to appointments.

But I had a gift card, and the wise mind part of me knows that, if I have materials that inspire me, I will be more likely to do crafting-type-stuff, which, generally, makes me feel a little better.  I pushed myself to go to the craft store, and I had my lucky, ever-consistent LarBear with me, and I did ok.  I didn’t do amazing or great, but I did ok, and I ended up with some new beads that I am pretty excited about.

Even bigger than that adventure, was the fact that I went into a Kwik Shop gas station and picked out my own bottle of water and used the restroom and stayed inside the whole time, even waiting in line with LarBear to pay, and didn’t flee to the safety of the car.  This is an even bigger deal because I have never ever been inside this gas station or into any place of business in this section of town.  I pushed myself because I knew I had to.  I pushed myself because I want to get better and be able to go more places.  And maybe, just maybe, I pushed so hard because I really, really needed to pee.  Whatever the motivation, I’ll take it.

I know I do better when I use skills like build mastery and build structure, which is basically exactly what it sounds like.  Building mastery can range from doing everyday things like cooking a meal to learning a new skill.  It is basically (in my eyes), anything that you can do that you can look at and say, “that is me being productive.”  Building structure is also just like it sounds, keeping a day full and not having too much down time.

Building structure and building mastery are the two skills that are going to give me real success, in the long run, if I can keep them up.  I am looking at what I have done today and I am pleased.  I have made a plan for what I am doing tomorrow, and I have detailed it out on paper.  If I can stick with it, I will have possibly another day of success.

A more stable length of time is started with stringing one day together after another, and so I have my evening yesterday when I made a new recipe and cleaned up the house a bit, and I have today, with the shopping and getting out in public and cooking a healthy dinner.  Hopefully I am able to follow through on tomorrow’s plans, or at least some variation.

Right now, at this moment, I have no “give up” in me, and there is really nothing else I can ask for, more than that.

Emotion MishMash Equals Anger, Rage, Panic

Image result for quotes about anger in bipolar

Sad, angry, happy, irritable, hostile, giddy, appearing stable, sad, lonely, panicked, giddy, irritable, hostile.

Mad, sad, crying, hysterical, eerie calm, thankfulness, slow descent back to an impressive depression, then just a big solid block of sadness, quickly surpassed by feelings of irritation at every spoken word, movement, gesture, genuinely baffled by how ugly people can be.

All of this turning into genuine anger, first directed at the self, stabbing words into my skin as if with a knife, getting myself so unsettled again that I go through crying, more anger, hostility, to anger at other people/things/objects/ideas, and again circling back to hating everything about myself and secure in the knowledge that I am ruining the life of myself and everyone in it.

This gets old and it gets tiresome and it gets lonely.  My feelings all are over the place, some of which I am accustomed to, but the anger, the hostility, the sharp tongue — I never get used to that.  I never get used to the piece of me that can and will tear another down with words, hurling just the right ones in the most sensitive spots for maximum damage.  The difference between before and now, is that I am depressed enough, I don’t really care that I am hurting other people.  That is not good.  Every jab looks to land a mat-dropping blow.

I can control it to an extent, but there are times when I feel so bad, that I don’t control it and I let my mouth run wild and I hurt people.  For the most part, it is brushed off because the other person knows it isn’t really the Rosa inside who is saying these things.  Sometimes it doesn’t get fixed that easily.

I deleted over thirty people from my Facebook over the last week, because I am convinced someone is leaking information about me to my ex step-father.  To be clear, I am done, done, DONE with that relationship and any relationship I may  have ever had with that ENTIRE side of the family.  It’s a shame, because there was one or two people that were somewhat decent, but for the sake of my mental health, I can have NO contact.  I want him to forget I exist.  Let him think I went to Alaska to can salmon or something.  Rosa, disappeared from his world, never ever again going back.  I have my reasons, many reasons which are really not worth spelling out here, because I don’t care to embarrass anyone, but done, just done.  Goodbye.  Again.  Stay gone.

I started this post shaking with anger, and that was after I wrote a long, ranting email to a friend of mine.  I need a way to get over this anger, to make it stop, to do something productive with it, if it isn’t just going to go away nicely.  Suggestions, as always, are welcome in the comments.  And even if I get mad about a comment, I won’t attack anyone, and that is a promise (that I feel that I can keep right now at 9:45PM on a Friday night).  That’s the best I can do for now.

 

 

 

New Physical Malady Intersecting with Existing Mental Illness Equals a Flare on Both Sides

I know I have blogged briefly about my skin issues and recurrent staph infections and the like, and now I have an official diagnosis:

Hidradenitis Suppurativa

You can read all about it in that link, or you can just know that it is a very painful autoimmune disease, with a genetic component, has no cure, and basically a person with this disorder has sweat glands that never developed correctly and is plagued with boils, nodules, and blisters that develop most often in places where skin rubs together.  It is considered a rare disease, there is much conflict about how to treat it (from surgery to antibiotics), and it is really hard to find a doctor that knows much about it.  There is a great deal of stigma around the disease, as misinformation abounds and let me just say that it is NOT caused by poor hygiene and it is NOT caused by being overweight (although some people anecdotally find relief by going on keto diets).  It is believed that everyone has different triggers for flares, and so far I have found that my main flare is stress.  That is a relief, of course, since heaven knows I have no anxieties or great fears or stress.  Hahahahahah!!!

I have actually be unknowingly dealing with this disease for years, it has just now reached the point where it is much worse and is needing treatment.  I learned of the diagnosis a week ago, and, rather than being disappointed in having yet another label to my name, it is actually helpful because now I can research and pinpoint and see what might help me.

I have my primary care doctor making a referral to the premiere teaching hospital in my area, basically the same place where anyone goes when they have a rare or serious disease and is not receiving adequate care locally.  I am hopeful to have an appointment within the next few weeks.  In the meantime, I am just trying to minimize pain, not aggravate things, and learn all that I can.

This flare in HS symptoms has created a bit of a flare in my depression and anxiety, which were on the uptick before I even knew this was what I was dealing with.  I am trying to stick to building structure and building mastery, as in keeping a schedule and trying to do new things out of my comfort zone.

LarBear has not been well lately, and it is becoming clear to me that I need to at some point learn that YES I CAN go into a grocery store by myself or go into a gas station and pay for gas or all of those little tasks that he takes care of so that I can pretend I don’t exist in the world and keep me from interacting with anyone.

I am midway through this current round of DBT group, and have discussed with my group leader, and I am going to at the very least take a break after it is done.  I have about six more months in this module, so its not coming to an end anytime soon, but I really feel the need to leave myself the possibility of more sessions in the future (insurance limits to four) and I am also getting slightly bored with things.

I have been having the hardest time leaving my house, and I think part of that stems from the fact that my house is so comfortable and clean and chaos-free now.  I do a lot of sitting on the porch and listening to music and writing, but have not been doing much crafting.  I really feel as if I have no talent whatsoever and I especially feel like I am wasting my time in art therapy.  Ok, I’m painting, but I’m horrible at it.  I am a failure at it.  I really just don’t feel a creative bone in my body other than writing.  At least I still have writing.

I went through a meltdown earlier this week because I decided that I was not entitled to the depression I have been feeling.  I mean, life is GOOD, I just feel so very sad.  Very, very sad.  I can’t explain it, and I can only hope that working on building structure and building mastery and trying my hardest to stay busy will bring me out of it.  That, and my med doc has given me a tiny dose of an antidepressant that is an SNRI.  Just hoping it doesn’t make me manic.

So, that’s life for now and I’m going to keep on living it.  My survival rate to this point is 100% and I intend to keep it that way.

Oh Me, Oh My: A Lament

Now I lay me down to sleep

It occurs to me, 

I am not even close to ready

For this week.

Responsibilities abound,

I accomplished nothing the past days

Piles of laundry overwhelm

A few dishes in my tiny kitchen.

No idea how I can bribe myself

To leave the house in upcoming days

For therapies, for appointments, for any reason at all

There is the dreaded appointment

Where I may finally learn about my chronic staph infection

But I care so very little, even about that

I just want to stay home and maybe sit on my porch,

Light incense and read books and not answer the phone

Avoid all those people out there

Who just want to help

By talking everything to death, over and over

That I’m trying so very hard to pretend doesn’t exist.

I Have A Plan

I vacillate between trying very hard to use DBT skills and basic coping skills and all of the “tools in my toolbox” and throwing my hands up in the air.

The Rosa of the past didn’t believe in recovery, and the Rosa of the current still isn’t sure about “recovery” from mental illness, in general.  Do I think things can get better, yes.  Do I think they can stay that way, not really.

After my therapy session yesterday, I have come away with a few goals.  Goals that the Rosa of before would not have meshed with.

They are, in no particular order:

1) Daily hygiene every day, plus a bonus if I can put on makeup and try to pretty myself up.

2) Sun lamp 30 minutes, two times a day.

3) More time out of the house, doing what, it really doesn’t matter.

4) Eventually get back to the pool.  The staph infection issue is ongoing, so I can’t do much about this right now.

5) Stop thinking about the zebras.  You know, the zebras, the constant and negative thoughts that come from the brain.  Try replacing the zebras with a giraffe, or an elephant, or maybe a cute teacup pig.

I have come to the conclusion that I can’t fret about my weight too much at this point, because it is clear that it will be an extra-supreme challenge in which I may or may not have to make serious decisions.  The plan is to continue eating right, with small meals, and try to increase fruit/veggie intake.

Above all else, I will continue to avoid negativity and will cut it out of any corner of my life in which it will be lurking.  This may mean cutting some people out of my life, but so be it.  I actually went through the million blogs I follow and unfollowed some that are simply always so negative without even a hint of positivity or solutions that may be found.  Bloggers that wrote all the time about things that were triggering to me were deleted, too.  I hope someday I can come back and read some of those, but I simply can’t right now.  Chances are, it’s not your blog I stopped following.  Most of those people don’t read me.

I am going to have to do something different with jewelry/crafting, and I’m not sure what that is, but I’ll think of something.  I don’t think I am going to meet the October 14th deadline of having pieces in for the holiday show, but at this point I think it is more than I can manage.

I may be starting an adaptive yoga group that my art therapist is trying to get together.  I am excited about that.  As in, yoga I can actually do, maybe seated at a chair or in some other fashion.  I really hope she is able to get some numbers together so I can start that.

Day by day, broken down into manageable chunks, I will get through Fall, Winter, Hell of Winter, Spring of Winter.  I will because I always do, and there is no point in giving up now.