Day to day; week to week

This week has been rough, with a few exceptions. 

Today started out slow, but I decided to spend some time downstairs. 

That, of course, lead to watering all the plants. Unloading, loading, running and unloading again the dishwasher. 

The holiday music is playing and for the moment I feel pretty good. 

I have to latch onto these moments so that when the #depression comes barreling down on me I can try to remember all the #good.

Sailing - Christopher Cross

Emotional Release

I am participating in #NaNoWriMo again this year.

I'm going about it differently. I'm combining my reaction to my mother's death 4 and a half years ago and my recent diagnosis.

Combing over old journal entries. Retracing the steps of my past. Has difficult as this is I can only hope that it will help in my grieving process and my personal growth.

I have never "won" NaNoWriMo, I simply try each year to write that novel/story/memoir that I know is trapped in my mind.

I write in hopes to discovering myself. In hopes of truly telling my story. With the desire to share with the world that they are not alone.

This will not be an easy journey. This path I'm about to walk down will be full of grief, confusion, frustration and deep sorrow for things lost that can never be retrieved again.

You can follow my progress at: http://nanowrimo.org/participants/geminifaerie.

Here I go. Here I walk down a path I do not know where it will lead nor do I know who I will be when all is done.

Thoughts that linger

I am lost in a sea of emotions. 

Poem. Lost thoughts.

I sit here, reading and bored. Why do we keep going on as we do? I want to cry. I want to throw up. I want to run away from myself. I am sad. I have lost so much and gained so much and lost again.

I want to go home and not leave the house. Stay curled up in bed. Waiting. 

Waiting for time to pass. Waiting to be held. Waiting to understand myself. 

How long will that take? How much money have we lost? How much pain have I caused? 

Where am I going? What do I want? I want love and even a small understanding of my confusion. 

I spin. I drum. I sing. I cry. I sleep. Sometimes I eat. Sometimes I dance. I move back and forth between two places. Everything else scares me. 

I fear judgement. I fear being declared a fake. Am I? Have I taken advantage of my position? Have I lost track of my journey that I no longer know where I am going or who with? 

How easy is it to forget me? 

I am cold. I am always cold. I do not hunger. I ache. The answer is within me and I cannot find it. Any idea is a good idea. Is anyone listening? 

I cannot share these things with others. If I do then I have laid my burden before them and in a way asked them to carry it. For me? With me? I do not know. But no one should have to carry my burden. No matter how small or big. I am lost and cannot be found. 

How long before the new is no longer exciting and I grow old of it? How long before others grow old of me? How much longer must I deal with myself? The anxiety builds. I find so little pleasure in so few things. 

That which I once loved I care little for. That which I once dreamed I have forgotten. Where am I? Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? Why is it so hard for me to be happy? 

Robin Williams and Depression and Sucide

I have spent my waking hours today crying over #RobinWilliams. I have spent the last few days crying over his death and #suicide. I never realized just how much he played such a pivotal role in my life. I believe he lived his life for as long as he could making people laugh to hide his pain. Sadly his #depressiongot the better of him. The laughter he was hiding behind was no longer enough. It was not a selfish act. His suicide was his choice to make the pain he was hiding from go away. The laughter was no longer enough. He is/was loved the world over and although we mourn such an amazing man and feel so strongly of this tragedy, one can only hope that through this selfless act that #depressionAwareness will become more prevalent. 

That #mentalIlnesswill be finally acknowledged for the disease it is. And a better understanding of how there is so little known about this disease and more needs to be done to acknowledge it and help do something about. We run for Breast Cancer and the like. Why can't we form a foundation that support the research on better understanding the human mind and causes mental illness and how we can at least find better ways to address it head-on. All of those that suffer from #depression and have multiple thoughts of #suidice each day and have sought help, all that is done is pushing one pill after another hoping something will work. I think I'm on medications 10 and 11. And they aren't working. What is left? 

Robin held on for so long. He hid is much longer than I was able to. At 33 I broke. At 33 I was admitted into a mental ward that did little for me, but keep me on a 72 hour hold. I took my meds. Slept and from time to time participated in group sessions. There was no individual counseling. There was no guidance once I left the facility. It became obvious that this facility showed more emphases on children/young adults than they did about adults suffering from alcohol abuse, manic episodes, hearing voices (talking to god/Jesus) and those just dopes up on too many drugs. 

At 34 I'm still trying to fight the fight. It's one I feel I'm slowly losing. Will I ever see the age of 63? My mother didn't quite make it to 55. 

(Sister on left, Mom on right. Probably one the happiest days of her life when I got married for the 2nd time and she was there to "run" the whole event. I let her plan everything.)

The picture at the end of the video is the last known picture of my mom.

She showed so much happiness. Although her death is seen due to illness. Truly it was a slow form of suicide as she refused to seek medical help for something that was most likely very treatable. 

Can I manage this debilitating disease for another 20 years? 30? I just don't know anymore. 

Should I leave this world of my own choosing, it won't be because those around me didn't try hard enough to "make me better". It won't be because I know how much they love and care about me. It will be because I can no longer fight the monster within me that I just can't seem to control anymore.

Anxiety and dealing with things no one else can do but me.

Memory getting worse. I have to constantly remind myself what day it is. And not in the typical way either. I think I tell myself at least 10 times a day what day it is.

I had therapy yesterday. Got home and couldn't really remember it. I kept wanting to look at my partner and ask if we went. And the only thing that kept reminding me that we did was that it was Tuesday and it was on the calendar.

I've done well at keeping the litter boxes clean everyday for over 2 weeks now. And the kitchen isn't in a total disarray. So I at least have that going for me.

I've deactivated my personal FaceBook account. It's been that way for at least 2-3 weeks now. It's nice. My Bipolar II page is still active though: https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Have-Bipolar-II/570142669759988, although I haven't posted on there since July 22 or so.

I'm currently reading Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, http://annerice.com/Bookshelf-AllBooksInOrder.html not the glittery stuff. I've read most of them before, but it was ages ago. It is escapism, but on the bright side it keeps me off the computer.

I'm in the process of trying to deal with my student loans in regards to my disability. All of this is very stressful for me, but I know that I'm the only one that can take care of it. There are a lot of things my partner can do for me, set up doctor appointments, buy groceries, cook meals, take me to my appointments, pick up my medication and the like. But he can't deal with my student loans.

I used to be in charge of our finances. I'm finding it harder and harder to deal with. All of our bills are now on auto-pay, as I can no longer remember what day things are due and for how much. We have a shared calendar with this information, but it's not enough anymore. Again, I don't know what day of the week it is, much less the date. Thank goodness for this new age era where I no longer have to physically balance my checkbook and I can see real-time bank transactions and fix things as problems arise (mind you it's under medication that makes me tired and sometimes still isn't enough).

I shake a lot now when I'm anxious/nervous. We had to replace the fishtank stand last week. I was a mess. I found out the water filter was leaking down the back (outside) of the tank and it had completely soaked the stand. The shelf was completely bowed where the tank sat. It was the perfect breeding environment for flies (which the area I leave has a problem with anyway). I sobbed when I saw the stand. I then panicked when I saw all the tiny flies everywhere. More sobbing. Sitting on the floor completely at a loss as to what to do. I text my partner and he had to tell me what to do for the time being. (I used to be great at dealing with situations like this.) My partner told me to I empty the tank about half way to lighten the load. He came home early from work and we went to the pet store to get a new (and proper) stand. I felt horrible that I hadn't noticed the problem sooner, so I was already upset. And I just stood in the pet store shaking and attempting to help my partner find a reasonably priced stand, as well as a new water filter. On the one bright side I knew we'd need cat food soon, so we picked that up too. The day was saved, no thanks to my panic. (I text quite a few pictures to attempt to show my partner how severe the problem was.) I asked him if I was being paranoid. And yes, I was to a point. The new stand is nice and everything is now in it's proper order once again.

Having deactivating my FaceBook account life has gotten really quiet. I sent texts to certain people to let them know what was going on and how they could still get ahold of me (phone #, text message and email). Still no word. I'm guessing if it isn't convenient then it's not important.

Trying to find the silver lining, I did get a text message last week out of the blue from a dear friend reminding me that I was loved and that I was being thought of. It was nice. I found it difficult on how to reply, but I didn't want her to think that I didn't care or that I hadn't gotten the text. The best I came up with was "Thank you." Lame.

I feel my mental problems getting worse rather than better, despite my medication and regular therapy.

I can't believe it's already August. All of this has been going on for almost a year now. I hope to have insurance sometime next month. Then we'll play the medication game once more of what might work and what doesn't. It's the one part I'm not looking forward to.

I miss my mom more than ever. At times I can't fathom that she's gone. I just want her to hold me. I just want to understand what's going on with me. I just want her to know that she's wasn't alone in her sorrow and confused depression. Yes it left a huge mark on me, but it's also genetic. She couldn't have known she would pass her depression on to her children. It's not her fault.

I find myself hating me. For allowing this to get ahold of me as it has. And it's so difficult to accept the fact that it's a mental illness. There is very little I could have done to stop it. I've held it back since I was 11 or 12. At 33-34 and living in the same place for 7 years now, it shouldn't be so surprising that my mental state finally caught up with me.

It's hard. I try everyday to do something positive and I feel so guilty and bad for the "pressure" I've put on my partner. It does make one think of death as a way to fix everything. I'm torn between rational about why death isn't an option and just all of this to stop and go away. All the things I used to enjoy, and now I can't leave the property. Sure, I go outside to care for the chickens, take out the dumpings from the litter boxes and to check the mail (thank goodness that box is right next to our property). But to find the strength to get into the car and go somewhere, that's a different story altogether. I had to go pick up my anti-anxiety meds last Thursday (my partner and his girls had just left that morning to go camping). I walked down the row looking for an aisle that was empty, as I feared having to interact with someone. I used to be loud when I talked. When I got to the pharmacy counter I was almost as quiet as a mouse and was shaking all over. It didn't help that there were people behind me. I somehow managed, but it reminded me, if I can't handle something that simple in an almost empty grocery store, there's no way I could handle a real job. Interaction with other people is damned near impossible.