A call for cooperation

Fear. That's what it boils down to.
In one of my last updates I told you that we're looking at ECT (shock therapy) as the next line of treatment being that my fabulous shrinky dink has "no plan b" for this last med trial. We're putting our hope in this last medication and I have several weeks before I'll see a result, if I see one at all.
Now, while I researched this treatment and introduced the topic to her several months back, I have to admit, now that it's a much more realistic possibility, I'm quite terrified.
I know that it's safe. It's been done since the 30's. It's been refined since those first cruel decades to a much more stable and comfort minded procedure. It's done under general anesthesia with a muscle relaxant to help minimize physical effects. I'm not as apprehensive about the procedure itself. I know that ECT is one of the safest and most effective treatments for medication resistant depression. I also know that people frequently feel some relief after just two to three sessions.
My trepidation is born of the known effects, namely memory loss. It's that potential that has me feeling a significant dread.
"ECT can effect memory in several ways. You may have trouble remembering events that occurred before treatment began, a condition known as retrograde amnesia. It may be hard to remember things in the weeks or months leading up to treatment, although some people do have problems with memories from previous years, as well. You may also have trouble remembering events that occurred during the weeks of your treatment. And some people have trouble with memory of events that occur even after ECT has stopped. These memory problems usually improve within a couple of months."-According to The Mayo Clinic
I have always had, with the exception of my childhood, a near impeccable memory. Not only do I rely on it heavily but so do those close to me. I am rather distressed at the possibility of losing any of it; after all, I have two kids that rely on me.
There's the memory issue, and the foreboding feeling that it won't work. After all, I have failed everything else. Why should such a radical treatment used to stave off severe depression in others work on me? All the drugs I've been on are supposed to work too...
I have such a sense of failure. Like I'm fighting a losing battle.
I know, I know, that's no way to look at it but I can't help it. That's part and parcel of the whole depression thing... An inability to look at things positively.
I'm trying, I really am. I'm trying to put my faith in the good prospects but it's difficult.
I need help friends. I need help seeing the positive.

Confidence curtailed

So about a month, month and a half ago, I was feeling a little more confident and committed to begin karate again. Partly to support the little one who just made it to the big leagues in karate and wanted me to do it with her due to her own self doubt, partly for myself. I started strong and felt good about what I was doing. I believed that I could really see it through and make it to black belt.
Then the confidence disappeared and was replaced with doubt and anxiety.
I'm quite certain now that there's no way that I can ever remember the forms or the combinations.
Plus there's the whole I'm way too tired all the time, desperately just want to hide from the world issue.
Oh yeah....that.
And, there is the legitimate issue of the tremor in my legs thanks to the Ritalin (that I've stopped) that's still bothering me significantly.
So there is my dilemma. I've made this commitment both to myself and to my daughter and now I'm failing miserably in following through. I just can't bring myself to do it. The anxiety, the almost pain at the thought of getting dressed and getting out in class.
I feel absolutely horrible about it all which is not helping with the depression, as I'm sure you can imagine.
So that's me....

Let's spin again, please

Yes, you guessed it. It's medication roulette time again. And today was special. Not only because we're adding yet another med to my regimen but because it's one we had previously thought I failed. After looking back through the record my fabulous shrinky dink determined that the symptoms made much more sense coming from a different medication that we know for a fact caused other reactions.
So... we're trying Lamictal (lamotrigine) again.
I'm good with this. I have high hopes that it will bring me up and out of this damned depression. Especially since she then proceeded to look at me and inform me that she has no plan B.
~deep breath~
We're pretty much looking at ECT (shock therapy) if this med doesn't work.
Now, at the end of the appointment she mentioned another atypical antipsychotic that we might potentially consider but it's not for sure. I have a feeling that we're looking at ECT. She also mentioned TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) but medicaid doesn't pay for it so that's out. Plus, I may not be a candidate given my pacemaker anyway.

So that's where we're at as of today.

I hope your day was well!

Your cup of tea

What, pray tell, is it? That go to thing/act that gets you back to you.
Is it having a hot cup of coffee/tea by your lonesome?
Is it sitting and listening to your favorite song?
Is it meditating somewhere quiet and soothing?
Is it going for a long walk?
Is it going to some coffee/tea house and writing on your blog?
What do you do to help reset and find yourself again?

For me it's several of the above.

There are so many coping strategies that people can and do use to get through and I find myself increasingly interested in them all. As Depeche Mode said, "I'm always willing to learn when you've got something to teach".    (10 points if you can name the song without looking it up!)

Music is essential in my life, not to mention my coping skills. As I sit here, I have my earbuds in and I'm jamming out to an absolutely fabulous mix of my favorite songs. Music helps me calibrate and reconnect; to myself, to life. I battle such extreme obstacles, namely depression and anxiety, that anything at all that I can use to maintain myself, even if only a fraction of myself, is highly prized.
As a matter of fact, I find listening to my music through my earbuds is the most effective. I can truly focus on the music; hear every instrument, every aspect. It transforms the experience completely. I am able to relish in the intimacy of just me and my music. Whether I'm writing, people watching, or just sitting quietly listening.
A few deep breaths and a great song can really transport me to a place of peace.
What more can you ask for?

What do you do/use to cope with life's twists and turns??

A calming beginning

Last time we met I wrote about a "crisis letter". Well I received my letter from my boyfriend and it's wonderful. As a matter of fact, since I've been having such a hard time with getting up every day since stopping the Ritalin, I've started reading it when I wake up. It's a wonderful way to start a day that is so difficult to begin. It's filled with positive imagery and calming techniques.
I'd already drafted my letter to my boyfriend and, as it turns out, they're remarkably similar. His response to this observation was "great minds...". I suppose that's true, after all, we have been drawn back together after 18 years...

Dear...Me?

So I read an article yesterday about irritability in bipolar. It talked about how tracking irritability can be a better indicator of mood shifts than tracking other emotions. It also listed multiple coping strategies that various people use when they sense irritability becoming a factor. One of those strategies was to read a "crisis letter".
Now this is a new concept to me. I was interested in finding out what exactly a crisis letter is.
Turns out, a crisis letter is a letter you write to yourself to read when you're in a bad place, whatever that may mean for you. A letter to read that will boost or empower you to get through whatever it is that you're experiencing or, in the very least, help you calm down in the immediate.
I like this idea. So did my boyfriend. As a matter of fact, it gave me an idea; for us to write letters for each other instead of for ourselves.
What better way to get a boost than from someone who loves you?
So, that's what we've done. We've written letters for each other.
I look forward to reading the encouraging words from someone who not only loves me but knows that I can make it through whatever I may be facing at the moment.
What do you think??

Light, gone

Last time I updated you I mentioned being put on Ritalin to try to boost me out of this ridiculous depression that has had me locked in for oh so long.

Well, as of a few days ago, despite it doing what now seems like wonders, I am off of it.

I had a seemingly small but incredibly annoying and worsening reaction to it.

My legs were shaking. And it worsened to the point that they shook so bad, even when standing, that I constantly trembled. It was a rare occasion that I was able to find a position that they could relax and be still.

I was advised by a nurse, after having missed 2 days worth of doses due to a clerical error, to go ahead and stop it because of the reaction.

Since then I have noticed just how much it really was helping.

Since stopping I have been sleeping later, wanting to retreat from life more again and I find that my mind is not as clear as it had been. While I realized at the time that I was able to get up easier and had a little more energy I didn't fully realize the positive impact it truly had. And now that I'm off of it I miss it. While the shaking still has not resolved, it is improving which I'm thankful for.

So that's where I'm at most recently with my medication challenges.

Hoping you're all well-

Goin' off the rails...

It's been so long since I've written and yet I have so little to say...
I know, I know. Me? Have "little to say"? Shocking!
But it seems to be true. There is so much to discuss and yet I find myself lacking the power of conversation. Let's see if I can run through an update for you...

As a few of you may know, my partner of the last 6 1/2 years and I have recently decided to separate. It was a painful decision but one made in the best interest of the kids and with each other in mind. It was, by no means, an easy conclusion to come to but we feel that it will improve the situation for all involved. And while we are all going through a major adjustment period, to say the least, there has been some relief and that's something to be thankful for.

Amidst this heart wrenching decision has been my seemingly unending battle with bipolar depression. I have struggled significantly with medication failure after medication failure. As a matter of fact, within the last month I was put on Ritalin, in addition to my 4 other meds, in the hopes that it would boost my body enough to give my mind a chance to follow suit. So far it has made a small difference. One that I'm grateful for.

My disability appeal is now a little closer to conclusion. My doctor was finally able to finish her "medical rebuttal" to the various falsities and inconsistencies in the judge's decision. That was the final piece needed to submit it all. Now we wait...

There are so many more details that are begging to be divulged but my debilitated brain is adamant in its dissent. At least presently...

Please remember, you're always more than welcome to contact me with any questions, comments, or additions to my ramblings. Leave a comment here, contact me via facebook , or drop me a text or call.

Hoping you're all well

The road

This journey is a lonely one.
Mental illness, no matter how well concealed, is a very lonely battle.

I cannot help but contemplate this a great deal this evening. I have so very many things on my mind and yet I find myself without a soul within which to confide completely. Whether this is a self-imposed solitude or a natural by-product of the 'nature of the beast' I have yet to determine.
Whatever the cause, its effects are undeniable.

I feel so very very alone in this world. People in which I used to confide are beyond my reach, people who seem close now still remain at a distance. There are those that claim friendship but who have no wish to be weighed upon by the struggles of others. There are those that might be close were it not for the wall that I defend so well in the interest of not burdening them with troubles not their own.

Whatever the combination of factors, the seeming finality of 'truth' is unwavering.

I'd like to spin the wheel please

That's right folks, it's medication roulette yet again!
Woooo!
I got to see my fabulous shrinkydink this past Thursday and we played some more.
I'm now, finally, on a daily maintenance med for my anxiety as it's gotten so out of freakin hand! We also decided to try halving my Seroquel to hopefully help with the extreme sleepiness.
So far...it hasn't made any noticeable difference but as tomorrow will be my 1st early morning since I've halved it, we shall see how much, if at all, easier it is to get up. If it's not, then I'm going back to the full dose to get the most efficacy for the depression.
But I'm now on twice daily Buspar for my anxiety in addition to my clonazepam. I'm hoping to see a result soon....
I can't wait!
I have had to titrate up and I think tonight will be my 1st full dose.
Let's go effects!

Well...shit.

My brain has gone again.
I haven't the foggiest clue as to what else I was going to write.
Damn it!

Well, this is gonna have to do ya for now.
You're used to this by now right??

The last ditch drug?

I knew there was something else I had forgotten to tell you.

So the last med I was on, the second to last resort, or so I was told, went out the window about a month ago. I'm now on the last one on my fabulous shrinkydink's list.
Latuda (sounds like something my kid would make up) is gone and Seroquel is here.

It's been a few weeks now. The biggest effect noticed thus far has been the extreme sleepiness it induces.
Like 13ish hours of sleep.

I couldn't even take it the night before my hearing because I knew that I never would have been able to wake up in time.

So I've tried to take it earlier and earlier in the evening so that I'm not asleep for my kids' whole morning. It's only kinda working.
On the sleep that is.

I think it's actually making a difference in the depression.

Maybe.

I'm still down, I still have the feelings of hopelessness, despair over everything, my desire to not live like this anymore, but they seem somehow lessened. Like there's a barrier somehow preventing me from getting all the way down.

I'm taking it, for sure. There has definitely been ZERO improvement in the anxiety department unfortunately. Granted, antipsychotics aren't meant to affect anxiety.
Unfortunately.

I'm wondering if my nightly clonazepam needs to be increased. Or maybe I need something else.
Or maybe I just need a padded room.

I see the doc in a couple of weeks. We'll see what comes of that visit.

Psychiatry myths

Thanks to a terrific blog I follow Bipolar Burble, I found a great article addressing the multiple myths about psychiatry.
The Huffington Post article Myths About Psychiatry by Nada Logan Stotland, M.D. makes some really great points and, in my opinion, cuts right at the heart of the antipsychiatry argument.

Thought I'd share it with you

Insight or Insanity

So, when you're crazy aren't you supposed to be able to enjoy it? Aren't you supposed to be less rather than more aware of the depths of your crazy? Blissfully unaware of the level of lost your mind has meandered?
Well I guess that just makes me even more special.
Me? I'm painfully able to analyze my uncontrollable behavior and frequently even in real time. More often than not I'm able to provide insight and understanding for my behavior, I just can't seem to change it.
How fucked up is that?
Doesn't that make me even more of a mental case than originally thought?!
Who does that?
Who psychologically analyzes themselves, pretty perceptively I might add, while they're living/displaying their seriously schizo ways but still can't manage to make any headway in the madness?

Clarity comes but disease still reigns supreme.

Psychoanalysis-not getting me much of anywhere especially when I have to wait 1 and 2 months in between appointments. I was supposed to have an appointment today but had the time wrong, showed up 30 minutes late, wasn't able to be seen and the next available appointment isn't until the 3rd of February. (I've been near hysterical several times since this happened this morning)
Meds-Yeah. My most recent isn't cutting it. At all. At the higher dose I was insanely irritable, at this lower dose I'm irritable and depressed. This med was one of what my doc said were the last two options. There's only one more after this, unless we start combining and I'm not sure what the options are there...

How do you live each day knowing how completely fucked up you are and there doesn't seem to be a damn thing that can be done about it? How do you effect the lives of those you love every day with your craziness when you know they deserve better but can't give it to them?

Ironic or just backwards?

I've never been one to journal. It's been something I've tried several times and it's been recommended to me many times over the years as it is to almost anyone with any kind of mental illness. It's always proven a problem when it comes to consistency.
But here I am with a blog that I write on fairly regularly... What's the deal there?
I feel, for whatever reason, that there are strict rules with a journal. It has to be written in a 'Dear Diary' fashion. Or at least that's the crazy (hellloooo?!) notion in my brain. I just don't always have something to say. I've been told many times that it doesn't have to conform to any set parameters, that it's just there for whatever you want/need to get out, however it comes out.
Hello...earth to Melissa, what do you think you're doing with this blog?!
Yeah, I know, I know. But gimme a break-I am crazy remember?? I'm not expected to make sense!
If you're reading this expecting me to make any sense, you had best stop now. Take your disappointed ass somewhere else cuz you're not in it for the long haul with me here! ;)

So anywho.

I've been writing general wonderings, crazy emotional questions, random thoughts, and poetry in my hospital notebook lately and some of it is making it here on the blog and some is not because I think it's just too random or crazy or just plain doesn't make any flippin sense.
But then again, that's me in a nutshell and you love me so far....
:)

Musings

Things have changed,
  what's changed?
Everything is the same
but the same is different
Different is everything new
and everything old.
Everything old is still
here but nothing new
is gone again

Not as mighty as I'd like

"The pen is mightier than the sword"

Not in this case. Especially since I'm staring down the blade of a double edged sword.
I'm stuck with a shitty ass dilemma.
Depression or side effects

Depression or increased irritability (highly unpredictable)
Depression or raging hunger
Depression or potential hyperglycemia (worst case scenario-diabetes [may or may not be reversible])
Depression or occasional headache

The doc told me to try halving the dose that way I'd still (hopefully) get some good effects from it but that the side effects would be decreased but I'm terrified. I can't afford to lose any of the good, even at the expense of the bad. I'm just too scared. I don't wanna go backward. I've had a couple of relatively good days. You can't take it away now.......

Please don't take it away

Heard....or is it herd?

I got word the other day that my disability hearing has been scheduled for Tuesday, December 17, 2013.
Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!!

They call it a "hearing". But will I really be heard? Will my medical records be heard? Will they see me?

I guess I'm just terrified that I'll be taken as part of a cookie cutter mold of crazies.
Don't get me wrong - I'm crazy! Well all know this.
But I am my own brand of crazy damn it!
And barring any complete sedation from the drugs I will inevitably have to take to survive just getting there, hopefully the judge will see my own personal flavor of wacko and help out our struggling family.

Thoughts, love, hugs, prayers, juju, vibes....anything ya got, I sure would appreciate it all on December 17th. I'm going to need it.

A hankerin' ?

So I've had this kind of itch to tell you a little bit more about me. Specifically about my past and my life as it has come to be. I'm not sure why but it's been hanging around my noggin. So I think I just might actually oblige, for those of you that may be interested in some of 'the back story'.

  I've thrown a few in the past when having to try to find a word that describes my childhood or rather a description of how it progressed such as; I was raised, I was brought up, or I grew up, etc... I was certainly not raised by anyone but myself. I did not have steady guardians nor were the unsteady ones of continual use.
I am an only child, only not. I have a most wonderful older half sister, by 5 years, that was adopted out to a very stable loving family when she was born. I met her just a few short months before our mother died back in 2007. Here comes the point when someone usually praises my mother for the smart and loving choice she made when she was oh so young. No. She had absolutely no choice in the matter. Not her decision.
Anywho. Then along comes me. I'm worth holding on to and torturing apparently. Just under a year later comes a little brother. I haven't the foggiest idea as to whether or not he's a half or full sibling. He was also adopted out when he was born. Hopefully to a similarly wonderful family as was graced with my sister.
And still, I remained.
Stuck with 2 drug and alcohol dependent parents that couldn't even stay together. They showed, at every imaginable turn, that they were completely incapable of making good decisions for themselves much less an infant in their care.
And still, I remained.
I was shuttled off to fully functioning, yet undeniably alcoholic, grandparents and an aunt/uncle/cousin at a consistently random rate. This predictable pattern of getting bounced around 'tween the fam continued until I was 10 when I was forced to choose, in front of everybody, whom I wanted to live with; my mom and the newest stepdad or the aunt/uncle/cousin grouping.
Yes indeed. 2 sets of alcoholic parents were actually physically fighting in front of me over who got to 'take' me. My mother against her older sister (that practically raised her). Forcing a 10 year old child to pick between stability and uncertainty. Between her mother, that she's "supposed" to live with, love, want to be with, and the aunt who could provide her with any and all necessities, love her, and actually acted like she wanted her around.
Like most kids would in that situation, I picked my mother even though it's not what I wanted. A kid is "supposed" to live with their parents, not their aunt and uncle (or their grandparents as had been the case several times). A kid is "supposed" to love their mom and want to be with them, want to be like them. Well, not this kid. I had learned from a very very early age that everything I saw from my mother was what NOT to do. I had learned to take care of myself from very very early on. So much so that I had had to learn how to take care of and deal with my parent.
A preschooler is NOT supposed to understand that you don't touch the little cut up straws and mirrors on the table. The scales and baggies on the shelf aren't to be played with. That you don't ask if mom's alright when you hear noises coming from the back room of a 'friend's' place. But me? I knew those things. I remember knowing those things. I can't tell you what state I lived in while in any given grade in elementary school, but I can tell you those other things.
Looking back now, while I only spent a little less than a third of my life getting tossed around to whomever would take me for whatever effing reason my mother couldn't, or didn't want to, be a mother, it has still played one of the biggest parts.
Maybe one of the hardest things is that I will NEVER get any answers to any of the bazillions of questions I could possibly ask. My mother (cancer), all 4 grandparents (cancer), 2 step grandparents (cancer too I believe), father (suicide 4 days before my 11th b-day), and 1 stepfather (ruptured ulcers as I was told), are all dead. My aunt and I no longer have a relationship other than that shared by blood. And that was an easy choice on my part. I was told a few years ago that she had stage 4 lung cancer but to my knowledge she is still alive and full of alcohol and attitude.

  So those were my humble beginnings. That's a nutshell of my Back Story. There are innumerable events within but that's the Cliff's Notes version that might give you just a little inkling into my wretched start and progression on this crazy crazy spinning ball of ours.
If you ever wonder how one gets a diagnosis list that reads like mine....there ya go.
 
  Consider yourself schooled in Crazy 101.

A Quote to Share...

                Encompass'd with a thousand dangers,
Weary, faint, trembling with a thousand terrors...
I...in a fleshly tomb, am
     Buried above ground.

                 -William Cowper
                     (1731-1800) English poet that wrote the self described "lines written during a period
                       of insanity" after one of his suicide attempts.


This speaks volumes to me....and for me, right now.

Responsibly Noncompliant

This is a real thing, I swear!
Well, in my world it is.

  This is my newest label and the fact that it's self imposed is neither here nor there. Please don't bother yourself with that at this time. I'm not.

  So I've dubbed myself Responsibly Noncompliant because I've stopped my lithium. Without doctor consult, much less consent.
  But here's my reasoning.

I am on 2 antidepressants and I'm still depressed. I don't see the point in taking a mood stabilizer that is designed to keep me from going manic when I'm clearly not even close to that end of the scale. Then of course, there's the fact that the last time my lithium level was drawn I was at the very bottom of the therapeutic range which means it may well have not been doing anything at all even if I HAD needed it. So, I'm minus 3 pills every night for now. If there's a change in behavior then I'll reevaluate. I'm aware. I'm being responsible about my irresponsibility. My husband is aware of my actions and understands my point. He is standing by me in my choice and is also maintaining an awareness regarding my moods and behaviors.

I got the staff to slip me in with my Psychiatrist next Wednesday where I will, of course, disclose to her my noncompliance. I will also be discussing with her her thoughts on ECT and ECT for me.

So...that's me.
Not following directions...as usual!