Fix her?

Disclaimer:  The contents within this blog are raw and real.  If you are not up for it, then please do not proceed.

I have been in a depression.  I think I’ve lost count how long it’s been.  I have never really been back to a balanced state since being released from the hospital.  A huge chunk of that has been my teeth.  It was soon after I got home from the hospital that it was time for me to have the surgery.  We all know how splendidly this experience has gone for me.  Now I am facing another surgery.  The next step in the process is coming up in just a couple of weeks.  Then I will be on a three month liquid, or extremely blendered, diet.  We all know how people feel when on that type of regimen.  I will be tired, cranky and hungry.  I will be frustrated and sad.  It’s just the facts.  The kicker of it all is that this will be happening during my birthday.  I hate not having a nice meal for my birthday.  I suppose I can have a celebration meal when the whole teeth thing is over.  If that ever happens!

Back to my depression.  I have been fighting it hard.  I have been going to groups, exercising, swimming, spending time in the sunshine, going to weekly therapy, doing my homework, reading books that others have suggested, staying away from depressing music, trying to busy myself with the Olympics which I love watching.  I just seem to be in this stuck spot.  My group leaders (Bill and Anne) believe that perhaps it is time for me to break through the masks and just cry.  No matter how long it takes to get through it.  I have trouble letting myself go.  I am always in mask mode.  I don’t cry in group and I barely cry in therapy.  I shut myself off from the emotion at home because I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.  The same with my friends and other family.  People see me upset or down and feel like they must fix me.  They feel that a few words or a funny joke will make it all better.  It’s not that I can’t laugh.  I find things funny.  I just continue to return to the same state after the giggle is over. 

Thursday sucked.  I was up and down the bipolar roller coaster like you would not believe.  I had group in the morning which I masked through.  I was honest about where I’m at but did not elaborate.  I am getting sick of saying the same crap every check in.  “I’m still depressed”  A subject came up in group regarding changes that are happening at the center.  I have a difficult time balancing my board status and my group status.  I know things that other clients don’t.  After group I had a chat with the leaders in their office alone.  We discussed my board member status and being a client there and the weird conflict and balance that wears on me sometimes.  Then after I left I felt stupid.  The judge and jury in my head told me that every word I said was unnecessary and I sounded like a dumbass.  I was embarrassed that I even talked to them.

I felt like shit.  I was shaky and exhausted.  I thought maybe I was hungry.  We don’t have much to eat right now because of some extreme financial problems.  We’re not dying or anything.  We just don’t have lunch meat or things like that for sandwiches or what not.  I grabbed some crackers and nibbled on those.  I seemed to feel a bit better afterward. I tried to pick my mood back up before picking up Joshua.  He had therapy.  We went into the lobby of the center and Anne walked by.  I introduced her to Joshua.  Then Bill walked through and came up and asked Joshua if he remembered him from meeting him before.  Joshua went back with his therapist.  Then this person and that person went by, recognized me, had to talk.  Clients and employees both.  It was tiring.  Wearing my different masks and having to change them so quickly is draining.  It takes practice for sure.  Then Bill and Anne asked me back to their office again to discuss the earlier conversation.  Again I felt like if I would just shut up then I wouldn’t regret what comes out of my mouth.  I even went so far as to ask them if I sounded stupid.  They both said ‘no’.  What are they going to say???  I don’t know why I open my mouth.

By the time Joshua came out I was a wreck.  I didn’t know what mask I was wearing and which hat matched.  We got home and I felt like crap, physically, again.  To be honest, I’ve been feeling this way for a while.  I haven’t said anything because I keep thinking it’s something simple.  Like my blood sugar or blood pressure, but when I check both they are fine.  It is that similar kind of feeling though.  I am going to ask my doctor about my hormones and see if it could be that.  I will be calling for an appointment in the next week or two now that Jason is getting paid soon.  We both need to go for our check ups.  They are very overdue. 

Thursday night I took a nose dive and crashed.  I felt awful physically and emotionally.  Meals have been difficult because my denture plate is causing problems.  It’s not fitting well and there isn’t a damn thing they can do about it until my permanents are made.  So protein has been lacking in my diet a lot lately.  So, dinner was okay but not superb.  Afterward I laid down on the bed and started to cry.  Joshua was yabbering on and on about something in the background.  I kept saying “uh huh” to keep from coming and getting in my face to see what was wrong.  The urge to cut myself was overwhelming.  I did as Libbi suggested and took an ice cube, placed it in a tender spot on my arm and held it there.  It hurt, it burned, but it wasn’t enough.  It didn’t take away the urge.  I didn’t cut, but it was fucking hard to resist.  I curled into the fetal position and whimpered into my pillow.  All I could picture in my head was slashing away at myself.  I could see a knife in my hand and scenes flickered through of me stabbing and cutting away at my skin.  I didn’t want to be me.  I don’t want to be me.  I don’t like me.  I hate being in my skin.  I want to tear it off.  I wanted to beat something or someone.  I had such anger inside of me.  Bashing my head into the bedroom wall seemed like a perfectly fine idea.  I held back.  I resisted the urges.  It’s more painful than the acts themselves.  I tried to curl into a tighter ball but it didn’t seem enough.  Jason came into the room and wrapped his arms around me from behind but I couldn’t stand the pressure of his body.  It hurt.  Literally hurt.  Everything did.  My internal organs screamed at me.  There is such pain that goes along with depression that people do not realize.  It honestly hurts.  I was twisted and contorted and clenched.  I hated everything and everyone except Jason.  I told Jason I didn’t like him at that moment.  I didn’t hate him but I sure didn’t like him.  Every time I closed my eyes I saw destruction of myself.  In one form or another.  I strained to stay still.  My limbs wanted to jerk and claw and reach out and hit things.  I wanted to punch things.  I wrapped my fists around wads of pillow and sheets and squeezed.  I was so filled with rage.  Then the sadness hit me like a wall.  Wham!  I just wanted to go away.  I wanted to disappear.  Jason was confused, he didn’t know what to do with me.  He asked if I wanted to go to the hospital.  No.  But I think I got out too soon.  What would the difference have been?  I don’t know, probably nothing.  It just feels like the way to reconcile what’s happening to me.  Maybe I need a med change.  I hate hate hate changing medication.  It’s awful trying to figure out what works and what side effects I can live with.  Fucking illness.  Jason wants to fix me and he can’t.  He’s sad.  I’ve made him sad again.  I’m uncomfortable to be around.  I know I am.  I can’t stand being with myself!  I asked him if he felt that he should have just let me die, just let me go.  Of course he said ‘no’.  Again, what’s he going to say???  That thought skipped its way across my mind again…if I wasn’t here then no one would have to deal with this bullshit I go through and put them through.  Jason wouldn’t be so upset right now if I would just go away.  No one would have to check up on me.  No one would have to tip toe around my emotions.  No one would have to be uncomfortable with me.  If I were gone, yes it would hurt for a while because people tell me it will.  But then once the relief sets in, it will be freeing for all involved.  Nope, not going to off myself, folks, just talking it out here.

Everyone wants to fix me.  Well, what if I just am who I am.  Anne says “what if you’re not broken”.  That’s actually pretty powerful.  What if I’m not broken?  What if this is exactly the way I was made and there is nothing to fix.  It’s just coping with the process.  Making this life the best it can be for me.  No one is the same.  My life situation is not the same as anyone else’s.  My chemistry, my upbringing, my roots, my story are not the same as anyone else’s.  Accepting that is each person’s responsibility.  There is no fix to bipolar disorder, there is no fix to Brenda.  There is a process and it sucks.  There is trying to live with what is.  No book, no joke, no drink, no pill is going to magically fix this girl.  Is that okay with everyone?  And do I have to care if it is or isn’t?

I hate myself, I hate living, I hate being me.  Hate.  Yes, that is a strong word.  I understand that.  I have spent forty fucking years trying to convince myself otherwise.  I have tried to be a better person, better friend, better wife, better mother, better daughter, better better better.  I always strive to be a better me.  But to me there is never a stopping point.  There is never a “good enough”.  Libbi asks me often when will I know that I am done with therapy.  When will I know that I am okay?  I do not see that and do not comprehend it.  In group yesterday we talked about acceptance.  Fighting who we are and fighting how we feel does not get us anywhere.  If your boat sinks you have two options.  You can tread water and try to keep your head above it, getting tired and worn out.  Or you could stop and float.  Just accept that you are there and float.  I never thought of it that way before.

I promised Jason that I would try harder, that I would get better. I want him to be happy.  I want us to have fun together.  I love positive energy in the home.  I just don’t understand why I can’t bring this forth.  I keep trying to remember how it felt to be in certain parts of my life when I was happy.  There are so few true moments of happiness, freedom.  I’ve been asked this by Libbi and by my friend, David.  Is there such a time?  I can’t remember one in my childhood.  Sure, there are fleeting moments, but not a period of time. 

Being in Orlando with Jason for our honeymoon was one of those times.  I keep trying to hold onto the memories, call them up from time to time when I want to smile and relive the feeling.  It seems to get farther and farther away. 

Instead of trying to fix me or snap me out of “it”, acceptance might be the path to travel.  Telling me to “lighten up” or candy coating the obvious is apparently not working.  If I am too uncomfortable to deal with I get it.  I don’t like me either.