Mixed Up Again?

WARNING: Possible triggers (suicide)

I wanted to get back to my mental health posting, as that is what this blog was originally about, but I’m not sure where to go with it. I posted the gory view of my inner soul on Friday. But Friday was some sort of ‘episode’ (mixed episode maybe?) that I should discuss with my therapist & pdoc.

Friday didn’t end with my post. It was a long, dull evening and even DH was quiet around me. Finally, I couldn’t take the silence anymore and I put on my shoes and stormed out of the house. I didn’t even bother with my phone so I would be on my own if someone or something attacked me. But I didn’t care. I was too wrapped up in pain and fury to worry about it. I walked over two miles before I made it back home. The whole time, I was trying to rationalize suicide and develop a plan. Don’t worry, I haven’t come up with one that I like so I’m not in trouble yet.

But there is so much anger in me right now, which makes me think I may be going through a mixed state. The past two days have been better, but I am still quick to temper, as I’m sure DH has noticed. I feel like I am never going to work again and I don’t know what we will do. I’m angry about losing my job, about the abuse I put up with, about everything. I am especially angry that they questioned my scientific integrity and called me a liar. All when I wasn’t there to defend myself. I needed to be out on mental health leave long before they ever put me out for physical reasons. And for that, I am angry at myself. I had the tools, I just didn’t use them. I didn’t seek professional medical health when I needed it most.

Depression and anger. They say that depression is anger turned inwards. I have to accept responsibility for not doing something when I needed it most. For allowing them to get inside my head. Now I have to work through the rubble that is the aftermath. Lesson learned – don’t trust your coworkers and seek professional help. DH says I need to learn to let go of the guilt because guilt is a useless emotion. He’s probably right. He usually is about these things.

Now I have to decide (and quickly) if I want to go to this conference. Pros: it may lead to job contacts and there will definitely be networking opportunities. Cons: It will be expensive (probably close to $1000) and I will run into Dr. B and his protege. I don’t know if I can handle the latter and still act professionally. Or handle it emotionally. There is also no guarantee that the networking will lead to anything. It’s a very small conference (only a few hundred attendees) and last time I was there (2 years ago) there was only one job posted that I would qualify for. So this is a topic for this week’s therapy session.

Anyway, I just wanted to fill you all in on what’s happened since Friday.


© Manic Monday (manicmonday123) 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Wild Ride Inside

It’s been a wild ride this week.  I’d been consistently and stably depressed for several weeks now, but on Monday I woke up early with my husband and we went for a walk.  I felt pretty good that day.  Tuesday was not a great day until I went to see the transit.  Then I got excited and hardly slept that night. I felt just a little bit manic, but I don’t think it was that.  However, I had leftover energy when I saw my pdoc on Wed, so we decided not to change my meds, except to add Strattera.  (More on that later.)  Yesterday was a down day because I hurt all over.  I little bit of a fever in the morning, with a sore throat and earache.  I was better by late afternoon and back to my normal level of depression.  Then there was today.

I don’t know what is going on with me emotionally today.  I am all over the place – on the wrong side of town.  I didn’t want to get up this morning.  I was dreaming about shooting bad guys (like in Halo) with Batman.  I couldn’t find ammunition for the guns.  I had 3 guns and no ammo.  Batman, myself, and another superhero who I can’t remember, were in this house plotting how to take down the bad guys.  We needed weapons and ammo.  A group of kids came by the house selling firecrackers, bullets, and laser weapons.  Batman bought a laser weapon that shot yellow “pellets” (bursts) of light.  He was very enamored of it.  He bought me some ammo but when we went out to get the bad guys, it turned out to be light ammo – both laser like and far less powerful than real bullets.  So here I am, stuck in a war zone between good and evil, with 3 different guns (rifle, shotgun and pistol) and four bullets that don’t fit any of these guns.  Halo was far easier than this.  I woke up at some point.  I might have been shot or captured by the bad guys – I don’t know.  It was a really whacked out dream.  I’m sure it means something.  Maybe I’m struggling to fight my demons but running out of energy.  That still doesn’t explain Batman.

Despite this exciting dream, I woke up lethargic and depressed.  I almost forgot my hair appt.  I called my hairdresser to ask her what time it was and she called me back when I had 20min to get ready.  I hadn’t even had a shower yet.  But I had to take one because my last shower was Monday (I think).  I don’t go out so unless my husband thinks I smell, what’s the point?  (Depression talking, I know.)  So I went to my appt (late) feeling completely numb.  I didn’t talk much – I let her do most of the talking.  (When she gets going, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise anyway.)  So I just let her ramble on about how great her life is and everything.  Inside my head, I’m screaming: I don’t care! I just wanted my hair to be done and to get out of there.  I didn’t want to hear how wonderful someone else’s life is.  I had her flatiron my hair.  Appropriate.  My emotions were as flat as my hair.

Fast forward to this afternoon.  I’ve been procrastinating on making this phone call about a reduced conference registration for the unemployed.  I know the lady and she is very nice, but apparently hard to get a hold of.  I went through the operator, who made me explain why I wanted to talk to this specific person, and I swear my cheeks were burning as I stumbled over my words.  Finally, I got put through to her voicemail and left a message.  It’s Friday, she didn’t call me back, no surprise.

But then I went to the conference website and looked at the program for the conference.  And then I saw it.  The work that I started with Dr. B (history of this story in 15 minutes of fury) was being presented at this conference.  Just him and the new girl.  My contributions gone.  I don’t think I ever wrote about this part before, but I informed my supervisor of my involvement in the project. I found out later that management claimed to have investigated my work and determined that I had no involvement.  So not only was my work STOLEN, my integrity was QUESTIONED.  I was furious when I found that out.  I had research journals as proof and they basically called me liar.  Backstabbing, hypocritical, lying, cheating, narcissistic bastard (literally).  And there it is – to be presented to the public at this conference as their work alone.  Just as it was presented to the company as their work alone.  Dr. Bastard always gets what he wants no matter what he has to do to get it.  Entitled, selfish, retirement-aged, spoiled brat.

When I saw that, I was angry.  Who wouldn’t be in my situation?  But it’s nothing new, so I set it aside.  Then I decided to go make myself a second cup of decaf coffee to help relax.  While setting it up, I dropped the filter and the holder (I have a Keurig) on the floor.  I snapped.  Like a dry twig. The filter and holder were on the floor and coffee was everywhere.  I stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the mirror on the dresser.  The cat scattered as my feet heralded fury and pain pounding across the floor.  I fell face-first on the bed.  And couldn’t cry.  The emotions were there but I couldn’t access them.  It’s like they were trapped in a type of glue of indifference.  A few tears came eventually, but not a hard rain, like the kind that dries you out.  No, the pain is just reabsorbed and dulled into nothing.  I am trapped in my own mind.  Sucked into a hole of non-existence.

Another part of me feels like there is a mini-me running around inside my head, pounding on my skull (maybe that’s where the headaches are coming from), bored, tired, counting the days until nothing.  Wanting out, an escape, anything.  Maybe I should be afraid of that mini-me.

My life as of late is not just full of pretty pictures.  I put that out there for you to see without becoming tired of my inner monologue.  My life is boring but depressing, and full of frustration.  I feel like I am desperately trying to climb a hill on a stationary bike.

And if you have made it this far, then thank you for reading.  I really had to get this off my chest.

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123) 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Road Rage Patient

First of all, I need to send out a huge THANK YOU to Ruby & Lulu for your support on my last post Freak Out, which encouraged me to call my psychiatrist (pdoc) today.  I even got in to see her today!  Since she just saw me on Monday, she looked a bit confused when I walked in the door, but then I got to tell her my story. The appointment was really helpful and I ended up with a prescription for my favorite pill: Paxil.  But first, let me give you a rough idea of how the conversation went (paraphrased by my memory, of course).

Me:  This is embarrassing.

Pdoc:  I’m your psychiatrist.

Me:  Are you going to lock me up?

Pdoc:  No. I’m not on staff at the hospital.

Me: (This is where I broke into tears and told her about the three freakouts I had this week.)

Pdoc: How long do they last?

Me:  15 min to an hour.  No real warning, just BOOM.

Pdoc:  Boom.

Me:  It’s like a temper tantrum.

Pdoc:  That’s exactly what it is.

Me:  But I have no control!

Pdoc:  Welcome to bipolar.

So as it turns out, I am suffering from dysphoric mania (a mixed state) just as Ruby identified.  Pdoc wants to give the Geodon more time to work (it can take months to reach the full effect of the medication) but we added the Paxil to address the depression.  So all of these years when I thought that I was some kind of weird ultra-rapid cycler (like days or less), it turns out that I have been in these mixed manic states.  I’ll tell you now, for the record, dysphoric mania sucks BIG TIME.  Where is my happy mania?  Where are my beautiful, tumbling words, dancing through my head?  My charming laugh, my winning smile, collecting admirers by the mile?

I warned my pdoc that Paxil would make me manic (happy manic!) but she said that we would watch for it.  Hopefully Geodon will prevent me from going full-on manic and with the Paxil will bring my moods into a more even state.  Also, I will be on a very low dose.  Something to get me back into life.  I told her that I hadn’t been doing any of my favorite activities: no reading (books or blogs – sorry everyone), no writing or blogging, no photo stuff, I don’t even check my email very often, if at all.  I go to doctor’s appointments, some mindless shopping – buying clothes & shoes I don’t need, and I watch a lot of TV.  I’m resting, I’m getting well.  No, no part of me is getting well.  But that’s a different post.

Apparently I am one of my pdoc’s “road rage” patients.  The kind of individual who suddenly gets furious (due to a trigger) and is out of the car and banging on it before they even know what’s happening.  Yeah, this is why I don’t own a gun.  I went shooting once.  It was great fun.  But I can never, ever own a gun.

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.