Variable existence

Lately I have been fighting a potent combination of despair and fatigue.  I’ll have a good day or two and go right back to feeling gut punched and worthless.  I’m really not sure what to do about it.  I try to avoid bitching about it on the Internet but by the same token this blog is one of my very few mechanisms of catharsis.  When I get fatigued no amount of sleeping or coffee gets me right.

I already doubled my dose of Wellbutrin and don’t see the doctor until nearly two weeks from now.  Day to day I feel pretty much vile and lifeless.  Not all the time, mind you. There are periods of relative calm interspersed therein. I’m just thinking my ego might be too fragile to be a customer service person. I just can’t seem to let it go when people are nasty to me. I take a lot of pride in what I do and it just crushes me when people walk on me. There was a time long ago when I was a halfway decent actor so that works somewhat in my favor but all I’m doing is barely containing my seething resentment towards the general public.

I’m just feeling like I have no future lately. No marketable skills or education and a body and mind falling to pieces before my eyes. I try to put on a brave face for those around me in the interest of not being a selfish jerk but honestly I’m dying inside daily.

I miss theatre sometimes but I can’t go back. That part of my life is over. I miss my friends and I miss spending time outdoors.  Everyone is just too caught up in their grind and that’s just how it is.

Between depression and fatigue and anxiety I’m just slowly but surely losing my will to be.  I’m not suicidal or anything,  just adrift and hopeless feeling. I have a birthday coming up and I couldn’t give two shits. I’m terrified that the combination of quitting my prednisone and starting a DMARD is going to wipe out what’s left of my strength.

I’m sorry if this seems like a bitchfest. I just had to admit that I’m feeling like garbage lately. Here’s hoping for a better day.

Depression Part Deux

I’m changing my approach as my ‘soul of iron’ is no longer cutting it. I’ve been in a funk since before Thanksgiving. I kept telling myself it would get better after the holidays. But it hasn’t. I still have the same hair trigger agitation and  fairly regular spells of explosive weeping.

As I mentioned in previous posts regarding this particular subject there’s… an issue of sorts. I’m Bipolar. More specifically the Manic variety. As such, giving me antidepressants, particularly the SSRI kind is a dangerous proposition. It can induce the worst kind of batshit mania known to man. A lexapro induced mania led to my first hospitalization and I was a bucket of wacky. When I would finally crash I was so depressed I was nearly catatonic.

But yeah, after the last few months, I’m
warming up to giving it another try. My shrink tells me the mania potential is less with multiple reuptake inhibitors as opposed to strictly serotonin inducing meds. I’m already (more or less) stable on risperdal so that works in my favor too.

I have to try something. I’m tired of feeling like putting a grenade in my mouth.

It’s been frustrating. It took a lot of nerve on my part to actually talk to my doctor about this. The first med he prescribed I tried to fill today on the way home from my appointment. Not covered by my insurance.  I walked home in the rain crying and pretty much cursing life.

I feel relatively alright right now, at least alright enough to try to articulate some of this stuff. It’s like walking across a booby trapped floor. Not sure if the depression I keep falling into is worse than the anticipation thereof.

As gloomy a post as this is, it’s the best I’ve got right now aside from one bright spot: I met with the people at the Vincent House today and am getting the vocational rehabilitation ball rolling.  That compels me to get this depression under control more than any tea or sympathy in the world. I keep telling myself my current job isn’t forever.

Also, (and this is a huge one) I have the most kind, witty and devastatingly handsome Boyfriend in the universe.

I’ll survive, I just have to keep these things in sight.


I wish…

I wish I could make my feelings known without being pigeonholed as a drama queen.

I wish I was more successful than working in a joke kitchen with a bunch of kids at my age.

I wish I could govern my passions which tie me into a million knots.

I wish I could just tell my Dad I have a boyfriend and have everything be fine and dandy.

I wish I knew why anything is anything.

I wish people weren’t so put off by the things that I find beautiful.

I wish the National Anthem of the USA was ‘Spill the Blood’ by Slayer.

I wish I knew more non-straight people who like Metal.

I wish I could make a few people I know see that life is precious and beautiful in spite of all the heartache.

I wish I was better at taking my own advice.

I wish I could organize my life into something worthwhile instead of a never-ending cycle of mediocrity and disappointment.

I wish I didn’t take things so seriously because it makes me want to jump out of my own skin and scream bloody gore.

I wish there was a way to regenerate all the gray matter I’ve partied into oblivion.

I wish my boyfriend was here right now making me giggle like a little kid.

I wish I could make my friends know how dear they are to me even though our time together grows scarce.

I wish I wasn’t such a walking cartoon.

I wish people wouldn’t interrogate when I’m obviously distraught.

I wish that I could just for a few minutes recapture the fire I once possessed.

I wish my writing style wasn’t so terribly disjointed.

I wish my pen was quicker than my brain.

I wish my heart was stronger.

I wish I had something helpful to say when people spill their guts to me instead of just anxiously grappling for the words.

I wish I would speak up and stick up for myself more than I do.

I wish that it really was as simple as taking the pills and Tah-dah everything’s awesome!!!

Most of all, I wish I could help everyone.

Alas, it is not so.