It seems I am at my low ebb. I have not been able to get things going for three days. I have missed church. I have not be able to get up at the time the alarm(s) go off. Many of my plans are failing. And at times, I have been a bit glum, nothing outright disastrous though I think it brings back some of what gets me hated online. People do not want to read the depths of doom. They do not want to think things are irreparable, they like to believe in a hope here, they want to believe they have a chance. Well, they are irreparable and you do not have a chance. Though going into detail really does not help, either. So, I stopped to think about it today. I am just temporarily sunk. Amazingly, I am still fashionably functional. I still get a few things done. And, really, I am doing a ton more than dragging my butt from bed to the computer chair for a few hours at a time before needing, craving, suckling on sleep again like a bowery bum on the last cigarette on the planet, only to find it is not a cigarette and neither of us finding satisfaction no matter how much we try to draw from our perspective succulent.
So, what to do. Well, not much. I will just keep struggling until I can get my legs under me again. It is interesting to see this thing from the position the medications allow. It really is bigger than I am, and swallows me whole just as a whale might. After which, I have about as much power to control my direction and depth as would be expected, on the grander scale. At least now I have a little chemical torch in the dark wet space and can prepare a bit for the dives, brace for the turns, keep from being mentally lost in the fog of darkness, and keep from being so nauseous on the trip. I guess I have to admit, beyond a doubt, I am a cripple. If you saw me, especially now, you too would have a very hard time believing what I just wrote. Especially given that I am the author as well. On the upside, I will be seeing my doctor in a week and a half and will have more information for him. Maybe he knows and realizes it is not reparable, I have pondered that. Doctors do not always truth if they believe no good will come of it. He is a medical doctor, I do not believe in psychiatrists. They were trying voodoo on me and I kicked their sorry butt’s out of my house. Medical doctors have been a hair better, at least when they tossed away the voodoo hoodoo from the reports and started working with me on real solutions.
I did get some more cleaning done. I finished the tougher parts of the bathroom (for me). The shower really needed cleaned and the toilet got a good working over. As well, the floor in the area was well cleaned. My mother showed me that the double shower curtains I use can be just put in the wash. It does work. I still have to put them back up, and lay another toilet rug down. I like have something warm and fuzzy under my toots whilst I toot. Something to read does not hurt either. More information than you need, but while I was at it… Oh, I got a little more done in the kitchen. I have a few things I would like to get done today, since I am pretty much housebound it seems. Well, it is an improvement, both in health and in house.
I woke up last night, lightly lathered in sweat. My legs and feet where “on fire” even though they were cold to the touch and blanketed. Putting them out in the 68 F air did not help enough, though it did feel better. I also had a nail in the head splitting headache. It was 2:44 am. I decided to check my vitals and glucose, 143/93, pulse 87, glucose 104. I think (know) I have three different reasons for night problems. I know only what one of them is. It may have been a minor part of last night, but not the major part. My bed would have been soaked, my muscles tense to the point of being sore, I have even hurt myself in those dreams, tore up my foot a bit just by muscle tension last time. Those have been modified with a little help from the VA, they are less frequent and less severe. I was never in combat. I was peace time. I was, for all it matters, a stateside cook or something. I cannot explain those dreams, daymares, or feelings. Blast it, I do not always understand this stupid life I have. But the therapist who works with this junk would not even see me until I had tested out for it, with several different forms of testing. So, I have it, we just do not know why. Yea, I keep going over this. Have you ever had a sore tooth, and your tongue flicks to it every time it acts up or hurts? You know it hurts more when you flick it with your tongue, but you just cannot stop that tongue? Yea, so be quiet, I do not like it either. And, on a scale of 1 to 10, I will bet your unhappiness rates at a 1. Mine does not fit that stinking chart. On the upside, should I ever need to release that rage, I will shatter stupid evil mortals who stand before me like glass. Even containing it, I have to be careful with fools. I dream of such things you would not want to see. I feel such things that you could not tolerate. I am war. RAGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
It takes a lot of juice just keeping that in my mortal frame, sometimes. Just knowing it is there is as frightening as you have a couple of cocked and locked machine guns sitting around in your house. The machine is ready, anybody could trigger it, few could control it. Oddly, a woman’s soothing voice does it for me. Or, at least would keep her out of the target acquisition line up unless the beast knew her for a traitor or death dealer. It is not stupid.
Damn, I should not talk about this junk. I probably should erase that, but. No, I have tried not to hide, I will not hide here. Neither my ideas, happiness, pains, life, or feelings. I have been as honest as I can, even if just in the moment, here. Yea, I usually regret it. Tough. And personally, I do not care what you think, believe, or “feel” about this. You want to call me a liar, do it to my face. I will give you my address.
Oh, I pick up the Obfussticator tomorrow. I am sure she will be about as happy to be home as I will be to have her home. Yes, a few more weeks in the wild for that feral cat and everybody would probably be happier. I usually try to spend some money on her outings each year. I have not so far, but I would like to plan a trip for late summer or early fall for camping, her canoeing, and me some fishing and swimming. First, I know she loves and needs her outings like a flower needs sunshine. Second, I know I like her better when she gets back, she is a happier woman. And third, not one single other person on this planet loves her and helps her in her ways. I guess I am surrogate family. That is what and all I have, so I understand. She is still a nag.
Often your posts leave me not knowing what to say. I think I need to go through your archives.
ReplyDeleteIf some of this post is referring to depression making one inert, non-productive... I can relate to that completely. However, you sound much more active in this state than I usually am.
I'm struggling with the Black Dog right now, again. I hate it.
this is your forum... use it as you need it.
Well, I will try to clarify as the day has been good and I have had time to wake up, think, get some things done, and relax a bit. This is a bit of a book, but...
ReplyDeleteI do suffer from something, physical I think, which just zaps me. Now that I am used to it, and it's limitations at times, it is not so depressing if frustrating. I think whatever the energy disconnect is, it is not depression, only a cause of depression, potentially. That is one part of what is wrong. Though, my recent medicines are helping with the energy problems a very great deal, if not perfectly. And, I have pretty much dealt with depression, it is not necessary in a world of understanding. As I came to understand I had limits, that is, depression seemed to become a light and short term visitor. I suppose a quad- or paraplegic would understand. And, of course, others.
The other part would be characterized as trauma handling, the lack of that ability, or the overload of shock. There is something underneath that is raw, biting, and furious, animal even. After working with the VA for a good bit on that, at least I am secure with it. I had feared it was an out-of-control thing, but I see now and have for five or more years, that it is not out-of-control. It is merely a survival instinct that has seen more than perhaps I know or remember. It is not evil or even bad, it is a natural response. And, as I said, it is not out of control even if I consciously do not understand it or control it completely, it’s mechanisms are purely survival oriented. It's first inclination is to escape, not play. As well, it used to tire me dealing with this, fighting against it, but not so much anymore. It is a more trusted, and negotiable, element of who I am now. That has helped, but there is still something else, physical I think as I have said, wrong with me.
I am called bipolar, but that is incorrect. As bipolar with both affects is a singular illness. My problem could be called effective bipolar, but not clinical bipolar (or, that is how I would term it) because the two parts do not have a singular source. Beyond that, my "depression" is not a cause, but an affect of exhaustion, sleep problems, and such. I do not have "highs" as such, either. Rages are totally different, and are triggered by dangerous situations, certain other things, and to some degree, specific dreams and daydreams. Pumping adrenaline et. al. through the body may make it look like a high, but it is just an autonomic response. One I sometimes do sometimes do not realize is even occurring. One that was initially so potent, it would not shut down for days. As for what causes this, I am unsure what to say. Nothing is probably best. There is some confusion with the point, for some, maybe for me.
Funny thing, I had this all nearly under control for three, maybe four years as I started in open major, made it from fresh to junior, then switched to engineering, with some ups and downs obviously, but tracking up. I was shooting through engineering school at 9 credits a term, soon to go up to full time and leaving disability services behind, then I started needing to, and trying to, take high blood pressure medicine. It just destroyed my game, back to point 0. I tried pushing through a disastrous year of college on it, and was booted from engineering school. I have been monkeying with this stuff for three or four years now, having tried countless different hp medicines, singly and in combinations. I am not taking psychotropics, and have not been on such for over a decade. None of them worked. So, this is just high blood pressure, now Ritalin. I dropped the sleep meds they initially started me on. It was useful when I first started Ritalin, but it became too much and is unneeded now.
I think this medicine might be the trick. I am getting in shape, as I can. My blood pressure is coming down. But as my mind becomes more active, even a little slide in body is extra frustrating since I am aware of it. And, the dreams and such seem to happen a bit more (maybe due to the frustration, getting in shape, or just being more active and out and about). So, I really want to push through to fitness, and try and get off the extra meds, perhaps even off the hp meds if I can get that far.
That post was a little raw, but actually, I had thought I was doing a good job of containing. Maybe I was in those moments. *laughs*