Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Rock Bottom

I lost it on Friday.  I think I was finally pushed over the edge.  Maybe I fell.  Who knows.

Whatever the case, I hit hard when I reached the bottom.

I'm recording this because I feel it will help the healing process.

I realized something about myself that I've been fighting to convince my husband (and myself), otherwise, for years.  It was a hard hit.  I think I needed it, though.  In order to be able to fix it, I needed to drop my shield of denial and expose it for what it is.

I felt raw and maybe a little fragile, Friday night and Saturday, which was hard because we were on a camping trip with friends.

Sunday, I felt a little better.  I felt like I was beginning to take control and heal.  I felt a little hesitant, but knew that I needed to keep moving forward.

I felt broken.  That's the best way I can describe it.  I truly felt like I really did suck at life.  I felt super insecure; my confidence had been shattered, or so it felt.

But, Sunday, I felt a little better.  I felt like, if anything was going to change, I had to make it happen.

I went to get blood drawn, yesterday.  One of the things my new PCP is looking for is a genetic defect that affects the brain and heart, among other things.  I did a little bit of research on it, and it sounds like it could possibly be a fit.  The reason she thought to test for this is because of my dad and my son and our similar temperaments.  Also, the heart thing.  My dad's dad died from a heart attack (his second one), and my dad has had nine heart attacks since the age of 35.  I'm 39.  My cholesterol has always been high, even when I was physically active and totally fit.  I know my son and I have some chromosomal abnormalities; a few of them are the same.  I don't know if my dad has them or if they have anything to do with this genetic defect, if it even is a thing.  I'm almost hoping it is, because then I have proof - something solid I can research and treat and understand.

I'm still moving forward.  I can't afford not to.


*** UPDATE ***

I do not have the genetic defect.  I was bummed, to be honest.  But, if you'll read one of my next few posts, I've come upon a realization that pretty much changes everything.








Monday, April 17, 2017

It's Come to This

My mind has been plagued with thoughts of going off my meds.  I couldn't keep track of all my thoughts, so I took a notebook with me to church, yesterday, and just started writing.

Here's what I wrote:

I need to write this down.  My head is full of constant thoughts of crazy.  I normally would've typed it out.  My brain goes faster than my hand.

I want to get off my meds.  I need to get off my meds.  I feel like I'm getting worse.  They're certainly not helping.  I feel like a failure.  I feel like I can't function.  I'm on the verge of tears all the time.  I feel like I'm on the edge and it won't take much to push me over.  I'm married to someone with high expectations that I can't live up to.  I don't want to be constantly reminded of my "flaws".  I don't want someone to have to live with them, but even more, I don't need a reminder that I can' even live up to my own expectations, let alone someone else's.

Do I even need medication? I was thinking, this morning - when did this start? I was trying to remember as far back as I could.  Early high school.  That's when I stopped being as physically active as I was as a kid.  I got sick and had to specifically avoid physical activity.  I was tired all the time.  I slept a lot but it was never enough.  My dad said Quin is just like him and needs physical activity.  Quin needs physical activity or it affects him in a negative manner.  He can't cope.  My dad has never not been physically active.  I used to be, then I couldn't, and that's when it all went downhill.  For as long as I can remember, whenever I prayed for healing or comfort or guidance, exercise and reading my scriptures was the answer.  Exercise.  I've always felt so aware of myself, like I was on the outside, looking in.  No, that's not entirely accurate.  I feel like I can see what I'm doing and feel what I'm feeling, but can't do anything about it - I can't control it.  I always feel the need to make excuses for my behavior, like I need to tell people this is why I suck at life.  But, I'm always afraid I'll sound like I'm making it up.  Maybe there's something to that.  Maybe I don't fully buy it, myself.  I'm a strong person - always have been.  Is there such things as high-functioning bipolar? Maybe I started feeling depressed in high school because I wasn't constantly moving.  Maybe I'm not bipolar.  Maybe I'm not anything.  Maybe my meds really are just messing with my head.  I feel they're starting to mess with my train of thought.  I'll be talking, then, mid-sentence, lose my words.  It's like my brain will hit a brick wall.  Maybe I am just a passionate person, prone to extreme emotions because my body simply cannot handle my mental capacity.

I have a higher than average IQ.  (I've taken several tests and they all average out to the same number.) I don't need meds for that.  I need to stay close to the Lord and keep my body going so it can keep up with my brain.

This is coming from my Heavenly Father.  (My thoughts are being guided.)

I want to start from scratch.  I want to be medicine - free.  I want to get all drugs out of my system so I can see what my body truly needs.

Before medication, I remember being irritable.  I remember still feeling ups and downs.  And being impulsive.  I'm still impulsive.  Manic? It comes and goes.  Not able to function? It comes and goes.  Extreme emotions.

I know it will be hard to "self-medicate".  Exercise and scriptures will have to be a huge and regular part of my every day life.  Just thinking about it exhausts me.  Trying to fake happiness is becoming unbearable, though.  Not being able to function is becoming unbearable.  Always questioning and being plagued with guilt for not being good enough is becoming unbearable.

Aren't people who really do suffer from mental illness oblivious to the problem? I'm so aware, I feel like it shouldn't be real.  What if it's not? What if I've been fine, but I'm such a control freak, I had to label it or have something to blame so it would be easier to not have to work hard to change it.  Maybe it's the meds that's been causing my problems, all these years.

I believe the body and the mind can heal itself.  I believe that's how Heavenly Father made us.  I believe I have access to part of my brain that few do.  I've always felt that.  I believe I have it in my power to maintain a healthy mental state.  I know it will take constant work, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

I think I'm going to go off my meds.

Here's Why

I want to let those who read this to know something.

I don't do this for attention.  I do this so others can maybe understand a little why I do some things I do.  I do this because writing it out, helps.

I do NOT want people to feel sorry for me.  I hate sounding like I'm making excuses, though.  I hate feeling like I have to tell people I've let down it's not my fault.  It's my brain's.  So, I usually don't tell people.  I just apologize and keep moving forward.

I generally can't stand it when people constantly talk about their mental issues.  It almost seems like they're glad they have them or they like people saying, Oh, you poor thing.  Honestly, I would really rather no one know this about me.  I don't make it known when I've created another post, like I do my other two blogs.

I feel like, in saying these things, I AM seeking attention.  I feel slightly hypocritical for saying I don't like it when people talk about themselves and draw attention to their situations.  Here I am, posting about my inner workings - the ugly ones, anyway.  I guess if you want to know why I do this, go to the very first post.  I'm actually going to go read it, myself, to remember what it is I even said.  haha

Anyway.  There it is.  I like that nobody comments.  I like that there are only a few people who read this.  I would even prefer it if they were people I don't know.  I know this sounds lame; it sounds lame to me.  I just wanted to let people know I'm well aware of the possible assumptions that people could make (because I'm likely one of those types of people).  Think what you will, of course, but know that I mostly do this for myself.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Not Me

Stress-paralyzed.

I learned that phrase from a movie, once.

I haven't been able to shake this down phase.  It's been going on for like a month or something.

I have been avoiding.  The opposite of that would mean thinking of and listing every single thing that needs to be done and since I can't do it all right now, I freak out and shut down.  So, I avoid.

Have I always been like this? I can't really remember.  I can't remember times when I wasn't on medication vs. the times I was.  It's all blendy.

I keep thinking, maybe if I go off my medication, it would be better.  I don't feel like it's doing what it's supposed to be doing.  I feel like I'm being pushed down; sometimes held down.  I feel like I can't function.  So, I Netflix.  I Netflix until I'm numb.  One episode after the other.  I can't stand to not shut down; it's too much.  My brain tries to think of everything all at once and I feel anxiety and like I'm failing because I'm not getting it all done.  I feel like my children are seeing me as a failure and my husband is seeing me as a failure.  He has said as much.  There are times when he understands and is so patient, but other times, I can tell he can't stand it.  And I hate that.

I remember yelling a lot.  I remember being stressed and easily irritable.  I don't do that, medicated.  I don't ever want to be like that, again.  But I hate this.  I hate wondering if I need medication.  I hate wondering if it could be better.  I hate wondering if it would be the same as being medicated and I'm just pumping my brain full of unnecessary drugs.  I'm afraid of withdrawal if I do decide to go off of them.

Scriptures and exercise.  Those are the answers I've always been given when I pray about what to do.  This was before medication.  I'm sure it still stands.

I do remember certain things about not being medicated, and they're no different, now.  I would think medication is supposed to help those certain things.  I would think being on an antidepressant should make it so I don't get depressed.  I would hope it would make it so I don't get stress-paralyzed.  I would think it would make my manic moments less... manic. So I don't know what to do.  I don't know what to think.  I know it'll pass.  I don't know when and I hate having to explain to my family why I can't seem to get dressed until 6pm, some days.  12pm, most days.  I don't even shower that much, anymore.  I hate it.  I feel like I can't control it.  I feel like I can think about it and think about it and see myself doing it and know that I need to do it, but physically, I just sit there.  I can't bear the thought of actually doing it.  It would mean having to find clothes.  It would mean having to do something with my hair.  It would mean taking 30 minutes out of my day when I could be doing other things, those things that pile up and overwhelm me in my head that never get done because I choose not to get dressed.  I choose to shut down and Netflix.  I choose to escape my life.

What if the medication is making me this way? What if it isn't? What if this is as good as it's going to get?

I can't stand it.  I hate feeling like a failure.  I hate feeling so.... stress-paralyzed.  I hate it.  And I feel like I can't figure out what to do about that.  I wish I had someone to tell me.  I wish I didn't have to hear about how the house isn't clean, again.  I wish I didn't have to hear about the dishes not being done or the laundry not put away or dinner not being ready.  I hate it.  And I don't know what to do about that.