Some days my posts will be rather organized, rather well-put together. Others, it will flow not so seemlessly, it will seem random bits, put together.
As you look at the picture on the left-hand side of this blog, you may recognize it as being Pablo Picasso's "Weeping Woman". I chose it for this blog not for the title, even though I do cry and weep a lot throughout the day, especially when not in a phase of mania, (which I haven't been for a couple of weeks now) but because it reminds me...of me. It reminds me of this beautiful stained glass picture that's been dropped and put back together all mismatched and wrong. This isn't to say I exactly feel beautiful either, not often any way.
It's just been recently that I've been diagnosed with Bipolar and for now, it's BP NOS (not otherwise specified) but headed for Bi-Polar I because it seems I don't really fit the requirements of BP NOS. My therapist and I came to the conclusion that I was BP when I explained having "manic" episodes on larges doses of Lexapro. In my manic phases I would make horribly irrespsonsible decisions, ones I'd never do when not in that state of mind. For example, I would spend recklessly and drink excessively. For the last ten years or so, since going to college and having total meltdowns and seeking help, I had been diagnosed with General Depressive Disorder that I was told I would likely need to be on meds for for the remainder of my life. That hit me hard and being in my early 20's and quite foolish, I would start to feel good (sometimes TOO good and have what I now know were "manic" phases) and I would stop my meds. Anyone on an anti-depressant knows where this can lead and it did.
When I was 23, I hit one of my two lowest points ever. I shut myself in my apartment, wouldn't even take the trash out, and all I could focus on was dying, it was the only relief I could see. I finally had my mom come get me (she lived about an hour away) and take me to the ER where I was transfered to a mental health facility and voluntarily signed myself in to avoid a court-ordered stay. When I left, I was on so many drugs (Trazadone, Seroquel, Lexapro, just to name a few) that I was sleeping over 16 hours a day. I cut out the Traz and was able to function until night time when I took my high dose of Seroquel and was literally dead to the world. Seems that episode wasn't enough to teach me to stay on my meds because I didn't.
Now, for some reason, being diagnosed BP has hit me harder than just "general depressive disorder", it seems like I have some stigma, some scarlet "A", that I'm a deficient person, parent, and wife. I have been extremely weepy for the last two weeks. My therapist upped my Lithium, which had been a great mood stabalizer, to 900mg per night because blood tests revealed my levels weren't at what would be of therapuetic benefit. I'm also on Klonopin, 3mgs in the morning and 3mgs at night, plus now Im on 200mgs of Seroquel, just started last Thursday (starting at 50mgs and building each night). Now maybe in a few more days the Seroquel will help (Im horribly scared of gaining weight on this, I did last time, A LOT, and Im a petitie person) and being borderline annorexic and having body dismorphic disorder (BDD), the thought of any weight gain is a daunting one but I want to stop crying all the time.
Add to all of this, I've been put into a chemical menopause because of problems with ovarian cysts, involving three surgeries since June 2009 (spent my 30th bday i the hospital). Doctors want to see if quietig my ovaries will fix my pain before they do something so drastic as a hysterectomy on a 30 yr (many health risks involved to do so). Now, add to all this a horrid at-home support system and being stationed nearly 5,000 from my home and family in NC, and you've got a mixture for one overly-taxed woman.
It's quite disheartening to have a husband who doesn't even care to be sympathetic but instead must believe he's speaking to one of his soldiers, yelling if I cry and telling me to stop being such a baby (and he likes to yell A LOT...not to say he doesn't have good qualities too, I can't paint him with one brush only, it's not fair). Right now, I feel so alone on this earth. I have my two beautiful toddler girls who honestly, are the only thing keeping me here right now, that's how over-whelmed I am with my depression.
So, here I am, a fractured, broken mom, drowning and looking for the right lifeline to save me. Life can't always be this way, it's not bareable.
-Signed, Jane
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment