TMS - Week 2 - Meds

Last week was rocky.  At best.  By the end of the week my tolerance to the damn woodpecker was a tad better.  Not significantly.

I'm still angry that THIS seemingly is my only... last option.

I'm not all that interested in adding more time sitting in the chair and adding treatment to the opposite side for anxiety.

Not sure when that will happen.

All this to say....
I wish it was easy as keeping calm and taking meds.

I wouldn't have to do this crap if I could.

Living in the Dark - Guest Post for My Daily Jenn-ism

The following is the blog post I wrote for Jenn for her March Mental Health Awareness Month Guest Blog posts. Thank you Jenn for opening up your blog and giving a voice to the many areas of mental health this month (and often). If you've not been to My Daily Jenn-ism. head on over..you may just want to go check her out.

LIVING IN THE DARKNESS

Readers of my blog know that I’ve struggled with various forms of depression and suicidal ideation off and on for several years.  Consistently since my youngest was born in 2002. The intensity spiked up ten notches after I had gastric bypass and the ability to absorb medication properly came to an abrupt halt in 2004.

Some days I believe I am the Queen of Suicidal Ideation.  I imagine my psychiatrist believes the same thing.  Several years ago, shortly after I was released from a short inpatient hospitalization, she said to me “Do you really believe you will eventually kill yourself?”  I can’t even tell you what my response to her was.  What she said next, I know I will never forget.  Ever.  It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to process.  I didn’t process it.  I didn’t even let it affect me.  She was right.  I knew it.  And just like many other areas things in my life...I stuffed what she said...deep down in the ‘don’t go there’ emotional bin.  

It wasn’t until about 18 months ago, when she said it to me again, that it dug deep. Even deeper than the first time. When I left her office, I spent another hour sitting in my car.  Processing what she said.  The depth of her comment.  And how incredible hard it was to hear.  

“__, I’m not convinced you won’t kill yourself.  And that haunts me each night.”

This was a continued conversation regarding medication, the lack of being able to take them, being at the end of another failed attempt, and pure frustration for both of us.  

I had no hope at that point and the pros/cons of being hospitalized was thrown around. To hear Dr. KSB confirm she didn’t have that hope, was a bit devastating.  Initially, few years earlier, it didn’t have the same effect.

I contemplated never going back to see her.

I made an appointment with a psychiatrist that specializes in gastric bypass, whom I had seen when I was in the hospital, whom had done an evaluation on me prior to my WLS, and whom even though I didn’t like...I did trust his knowledge was extensive.  It was a 6 month wait to see him.  I was desperate when I scheduled that appointment.  The appointment came and went.  He confirmed that I was seeing one of the best psychiatrists and that I needed to continue my treatment with her.  He gave me his recommendations and sent them to Dr. KSB.  Telling me to follow-up with her in a week or two.  He also, added several dx to my permanent chart.  That appointment was a year ago.  None of his recommendations were options at the time.  Dr. KSB has left the one recommendation as a last case scenario.  Agreeing that the only way she would suggest it being an option, would be if there was an attempt to end my life.  It would be, as he said...”LAST CASE SCENARIO”.  

And so...I continue to see her.  

She knows me. I know her. She trusts me (I think). I trust her.  

And she knows that filling me with all sorts of medications is not an option.  

At my last appointment with Dr. KSB, we discussed the current state of my marriage.  My husband and I are both patients of hers.  Once again, she told me ‘my gut tells me you would not survive a separation or divorce’.  Damn as much as I know that. It is harder to hear it.  Once again, I sat in my car for a good hour after my appointment trying to process what she had to say.

Currently, mental illness waxes and wanes in my life.  There are a few good days here and there.  There are suicidal days where I’m holding on to the last bit of the frayed string, trying everything in the book to stay alive.  Some days all I can do is lay on the couch and watch my dogs play, listen to my children's voices, fighting against everything to hold on to their sweet voices.  Praying and hoping against all hope that the depression will lift.  Leave me alone.  At least for a day.  

A few weeks ago, I wasn’t suicidal.  I had more than an entire day without the constant thoughts of hurting myself, the bad thoughts, the self hatred, and self harm impulses.  Just sadness.  Sadness that this is my life.  The next few days, I wasn’t so lucky.

That is the nature of this beast.  The last 18-24 months this has been my life.  It is a constant battle to get up every day.  Some days, the darkness lifts.  

Everybody Hurts by REM rings a bell.  I woke up thinking about this song this morning.

And so....I leave you with that.

Everybody Hurts.

Everybody Cries.

Hold On.

EVERYBODY HURTS Youtube Link

~~~~~~~~
And I will add I've had a bad week of suicidal ideation.  Self harm crap has been sky high.  My BFF informed me I'm to negative and need to try to increase positive in my life.  And while I know she is right, when every ounce of my energy is taken by going to work....there is nothing left.  Excuse?  Sure as hell is.  Bit it is where I'm at.  I have went as far as have plan in place and need to be talked down off the ledge by one of my Orlando Moms.  She gets this place.  I know she does.  And somehow that makes it that much harder.

Jenn added the following to this post. And I will do the same.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

No matter what problems you are struggling with, hurting yourself isn't the answer. Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) to talk to a counselor at a Lifeline crisis center near you.

Someone loves you and someone WILL miss you.  I promise! 

Doesn't Get Easier

I've stared at this screen for well over an hour.  Trying to come up with the words to what I'm thinking and feeling right now.

About a month ago I wrote this post "The Good, The Bad, The Ugly....Meds Suck".  Meds can certainly suck. 

My appt with my psychiatrist was rather gut wrenching.  Again. It doesn't get any easier hearing the same things that she has told me many times over.  In fact, it gets harder.  And being able to feel my doctors frustration with where things are at made it even harder.  

When I walked threw the doors of my house this evening and my children were arguing like children do...I was reminded why I walked threw that door again.  

And then the tears fell even harder.

And they've not stopped.

I wish I had the answers.

I wish this wasn't so freaking hard.

I wish that the power of positive thinking would be the magic cure.

I wish this would be so much different than it is.

I wish there were answers. 

It doesn't get easier to get back up...
It gets increasingly harder...each time I hear the words out of Dr. K*'s mouth.

Getting back up...doesn't get easier.

Fighting the Darkness

These days.  They are dark.  Daylight savings has kicked my ass.  So much swirling.  I saw my psychiatrist this evening.  It was a much over-do appointment.  Some scheduling snaffu's almost made it so the appointment didn't happen.

It was a huge struggle to put it all out there.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  There wasn't much good.  There was some really ugly.  As I talked to her and told her some of the really ugly that has transpired over the last 8 weeks since I saw her last...I was overcome with a huge sense of broken-ness!  This is one thought that I've tried very hard to overcome, not believe, and not fall into that trap.  For the most part I'm able to keep it at bay.  I don't often see myself as broken.  However, this evening as I sat in Dr. K's office that is the one thing that seemed to resonate.

It was incredible tough being 110% honest with her.  Making her hear me for where I am at.  Not just that I'm in the ever revolving realm of suicidal ideation. A spot she is very used to seeing me in.  But more of getting across to her the depths of where I've been.  We discussed why I've not called to get in sooner, why I didn't agree to see someone else while she was out of the country, and some other things.  There are some things I can't seem to really bring myself to blog about.  It isn't that there is anything to hide.


Being completely honest and real with Dr. K was one of the toughest things I've done in a long time.  I don't always have full faith/trust in her that she won't decide that this time I won't need to be hospitalized.  I'm not okay.  I know that.  It is taking every ounce of my energy to get up every single day.  I can't even begin to express how incredible tough it is.

Yet, I do it.  I can't tell you why. I'm not even sure that I know why.  This evening has been rough.  After leaving Dr. K's office today I had a bit of optimism.  There was a very small flicker of hope that maybe a re-try with her readily availble should things go ary would be helpful.  I spoke with my BFF on my way home and felt confident that this was a good plan that we came up with.  And then somewhere in the 30 miles between her office and my home....it all went down the toilet.

I've been in this space before.  I've danced this horrible choppy slow dance before.  I know how incredible shit filled it is.  It's getting old.  I wish it was as easy as choosing to be more positive, make different choices, change this or that.  Lord knows, I've done it. I'm doing it. This is where this fight becomes to much some days.  

Get Back Up...Damnit.

1:  Learn the warning signs for suicide

2:  Join the Movement

3: Spread the word

4:  Support a Friend

5: Reach Out


So many things race race in and out of my thoughts.  As I sit here trying hard to fall back asleep..I decide to give up and turn on my computer.  Awake again at the wee hours of the night.  As I turn on my computer, log into bookface (f.acebook)..my family on the west coast has several different messages about what this day is and the painful reminders it brings.

I see the link to a news article and read it.  Again.  Proud and heartbroken all at once. As my cousins pick up the pieces on the anniversary of their father taking his life....it is is gentle reminder to me to keep on getting up.  Over and over. As hard as it is. Regardless of the war that rages on in my head.  I have no choice.  But...to continue to Get Back Up every damn day!

I will not leave that legacy for my children.  As hard as it is to fight the battle on some days.  As hard as it is to keep on moving. I will not do it.

And so for today....and tomorrow...and next week....I will get back up every damn day.  Regardless of how hard it might be.  And for the days that I can't get up....accepting that it's okay to stay in bed.

This is not the life that I envisioned living.  I never in a million years would have imagined that this battle would be one that I would continue to fight over and over.

I came home w/new medication samples and a prescription for antidepressant yesterday after a visit w/my pdoc.  She was a  bit different in her approach with me.  As I left and contemplated the things she said it stung.  She wasn't being harsh. Genuine and loving....and adamant that I'm not living my best life.  And that is her ultimate goal.  Yet, she is unsure which direction to go.  So once again, I try a new medication.  Over the last 2 ys antidepressants and I've not been friends and they've increased the S.I a ton.  Leary of giving it a try is an understatement.  I have nothing to loose by trying it. I have everything to loose by not.

Sh*t or Get off the Pot

This morning I started my day by making the trek to see the "new" surgeon.  He is conservative that is for sure.  I wonder have asked myself over and over in the last few weeks...today..."Did you make the right choice by choosing this guy over his best friend and fellow surgeon.  I will probably never know the answer to this question.  Since this is a work related injury and I'm on my 2nd opinion since the Jackhole, I saw a month ago...I cant change doctors.  Which, is fine with me.  He's not ready to jump into doing surgery until he is confident he knows 100% what is going on and what the source of my pain is.  However, I'm struggling w/being patient.  Patience and I don't always get along.  And this is one of those times. 

I left the clinic today thinking that old saying my mom used to say to all.the.freeking.time.  "Just shit or get off the pot".  And that is where I'm at.

Until then...I remain w/the same restrictions.  I return in 3 weeks.  In hopes for more answers.  He gave me an answer today as to what the problem is right now...  adhesiv.e capulitis....AKA:  froze.n s.houlder.  I've got a long road to recovery, I think.  Which is depressing.

I returned to work for a few hours and then made the trek back to the same side of town I was on earlier in the day to see H*.  I have seen her weekly for the last 3 weeks.  Last week and today some pretty heavy stuff came up.  As in staying present was very difficult.  I struggled getting dressed. I struggled sitting in her office afterwards talking for a few moments.  The fight or flight internal mode was in high gear.  As she shared w/me her experience and what she felt happened and the shifts she felt, I thought I didn't think about it on the same level.  She felt like there was a shift.  Shift in energy, shift in my own personal trauma work, shift in general.  An area that she has never felt to be an issue before screamed very loud and clear.  It was a bit of a different shift for me.  I felt the shift and definately agree that it was different than usual.  I got up feeling stuck.  Stuck and unbalanced so to speak.  The intense pain and areas that were screaming to me while I was there....left shortly after I left her home/office. 

I had a psychiatrist appt w/K*.  I sat outside her office trying to gather my thoughts.  After getting to a place where I was feeling pretty good I went in to my appt.  As usual, K* irked me.  I let her know she was irking me.  I also made it loud and clear that I was not going to continue to have the disagreement that we were having.  She was agreeing with the first Jackhole surgeon.  She did not hear what I was attempting to say.  She was not hearing that I've followed the treatment plan for my shoulder 100%+.  She had it stuck in her head that "after your WLS you ate nothing but popcorn....when asked you said nope not supposed to but....its good and thats what I want".  SHe failed to remember that was the ONLY FOOD (other than toast) that didn't make me vomit for months on end.  When she got stuck on that fact...I got a bit pissed.  And made it VERY CLEAR she could "remember those things if she so choose...and that was 8 fucking years ago (okay I didn't say fuck but came fucking close),  I also made it clear that I would not change her perception, thoughts, or whatever it was that needed to be changed. SHe could think those things if she wanted.  But she did not have all the facts and I was no longer going to debate or argue the point w/her.  I have a new surgeon. He will make an informed choice about surgery and if I'm a canidate based on his findings. Not based on a dx on my chart for which I was never questioned about."  I got my point across. Which was good.

The guilt factor is really coming on hard after yesterdays blow up w/little man.  He sees someone at the same clinic that my pdoc/therapist work at.  I took the kids to dinner after our appts.  I asked little man how his appt was and was there anything he wanted to share w/me.  His face got red, looked away and said nope.  I poked a little bit and said "Did you talk w/Dr. K* about mommy's bad day ysterday and how I got upset and yelled at you?"  He sheepishly shook his head yes.  I told him I was proud that he could talk to him and he was honest w/me about it.  I followed the conversation up with "I hope you were able to remember that mommy did apologize?"  He didn't remember me coming to him afterwards in tears, telling him there was nothing that he did that was his fault and it was all mommy....and blah blah blah...  My heart sank.  And the last several hours guilt has crept in and I feel horrible.  I don't want to be that mom.  I've tried so fucking hard to change that and not blow up at my kids.  The damage is done.  Damn it all.

My heart continues to be heavy as I attempt to find and describe what that safe space will be, how I will get myself there, and what it would look like...in moments of distress, suicidal ideations, and severe downward spirals.  The heaviness comes from the resistance of doing the work.  It is work that I know needs to be done.  Work that I know in my heart I'm ready to do...to move fwd...to shit and get off the pot..  The other part is being able to describe those spaces...I was able for the first time in a very very long time....remove myself from the situation yesterday, to that spot that is safest and quietest for me....I was able to consiously choose NOT to use the hottest water possible...instead just hot enough to be soothing and drown out what needed to be drowned out at that moment.  In doing so, after using all the hot water, I was able to return to what I was doing, attempt to repair the damage w/little man (which i realize today didn't work) and move on. 

I've rambled in this post more than I ever intended to.  It's late.  Everyone is asleep.  The demon puppy is asleep and has finally stopped terrorizing everything/one insight. 

I blog for my own therapy.  Tonight...I needed that therapy.  I've wrote several blog posts and have them in the drafts.  Most likely they will never be published.  And maybe someday, when I'm not in a vulnerable space, when I'm able to speak about the sexual abuse and other crap....I will share them.  For now, it's off my chest.  And I know that I don't have to share them w/anyone but myself.

The PDoc is In

After waiting several months to get into a new psychiatrist for a 2nd opinion (or possible have him follow my care....even though, deep down I didn't really want that) I was rather discouraged.  Depressed would be an understatement.  HUGE understatement to be honest.  Sometimes, that smack in the face is what you need.  In this case what I needed.  The get up and go to keep on fighting, keep on keeping on...was gone.  I made a follow up appt with my primary psychiatrist K* yesterday.  I've mentioned several times on this blog that we have a love/hate relationship.  I agree w/my PCP that sometimes you need a fresh look.  By going to see this new guy last week, this is exactly what I got. 

Yesterday my appt with K* was chuck full of information.  Much of the suggestions from the dr. I saw last week are not options.  Will never be options.  I will not have surgery and I will not do the other rather extreme things he suggested.  I'm not opposed to it.  However, at this time...in my heart I believe there is SOMETHING that is missing and SOMETHING else that could be helpful. I also left that appt feeling like she feels the same thing.

I left overwhelmed.  Heck, I became overwhelmed while talking to her.  I made sure to let her know that I was overwhelmed with several of the things she was throwing out there. 

For the first time in the 12 year history I have with K* she saw in writing in front of her; the list of medical dx that I have/had at some point.  Sitting in front of her on the first page of the report.  She skimmed the report.  Telling me different things, explaining what they were.  And giving me her ever so humble opinion.  Sometimes, I don't like her ever so humble and honest opinions. She was adamant about me seeing an endocrinologist. 

At the end of the appt. I left with 2 new prescriptions.  One I would start right away.  The other I would attempt to get my insurance to pay with the assumptions they would not and then we could start the prior auth process.  Much to our surprise it was partially covered.  I could attempt to get my insurance to lower the tier for lower coverage.  However, I am pretty sure it would be for naught.

So right now, I will start a Effixor (sp).  In hopes that there are no negative side effects such as increased suicidal ideation.  Trust me...when I say that I'm very very hesitant to take this based on my recent experiences with any antidepressants over the last year.  As in extremely HESITANT!! And I became even more hesitant when I found out that the cost was rather high.  My insurance doesn't pay for it at the 2 smaller co pays.  Unfortunately for me.  Whatever.  If it will help I can/will take it.  My history w/antidepressants isn't good....crossing more than my fingers!!

In a month or so I will start a prescription for Deplin. Basically it is a medical food/dietary supplement that contains methylfolate (aka: folate).  This was something that came to K*'s mind after she saw the different medical dx that were listed on the 2nd opinion report.

I contacted my PCP's office.  Have a referral to see someone in endocrinology in May.  And we shall see....what will happen from there.

K* and I discussed EMDR, also.  She was not very supportive of it.  She gave me her reasoning for it.  I'm not very sure I agree with her.  I will write more about that at a later time.  My son just came home from school and is being very loud.....I need to quiet him down real quick or it will be a long 6 hours before bedtime.

Pick Me Up...

Plain and simple..

You can't help but smile when seeing something like this portrait. 
I know I did. 

It is a simple "pick me up" type of portrait.
Lil' babe....carefree and innocent.

Today was a bit of a lighter day in the realm of things.  I came close to having a mini meltdown in drs office when requesting a copy of the report from last weeks new psych appt.  They would not give it to me.  Telling me they would fax it to my primary psychiatrist.  Whatever. It wasn't a battle I was willing to fight today.  I will see Dr. S in the morning.  I don't see J* for about 4 weeks.  One of them will discuss it with me I'm sure. If not...then it will become a battle that I will fight.

I had a PT eval for my shoulder this morning.  I love how the man told me that I have rounded shoulders and poor posture.  Uh' yeah....I have rounded shoulders because I drive for a living....with my arms extended out....with a 40,000 lb vehicle.  Duh'.  He quickly caught himself and corrected himself, somewhat.  Whatever. I don't need PT. I know what he is going to have me do.  Whatever I need to do to make work comp happy.

I'm serious about finding more information out in regards to EMDR.  I know that J* doesn't do it.  I'm past the part of "I don't want to learn about it, see if it would be a good fit for me, ect bc J* doesn't do it and I don't want to see yet...someone else."  The happenings of Sunday were enough for me to realize that I need to at least look into it.  Stop asking questions and move fwd with a consultation.  Stop thinking about it...and DO IT.  I see Dr. S in the morning and will attempt to bring it up with her. 

I'm tired beyond tired this evening.  Lack of sleep and plain BUSY freeking day has led me to be....TIRED.

 

On the Wings

Shortly before landing in Orlando on March 1.

I would give anything to be on that plane...again!  Headed to ETAAM-Orlando.  It seems like it was so long ago.  Yet it was only 3 weeks ago today, that I got up early and returned home.  As I looked out the window at the wing of this particular plane I recall seeing and feeling so much hope for the coming days.  Hope in finding brighter moments...even if just for a few moments/days. 

I am not actively parenting a child with R.A.D.  However, the after effects have played their toll.  The last few days those after effects have crept into my heart.  Taken up residence in a rather negative toll.  The timing has been horrible.  There is never any good time.  However, right now is really not good.

Add this into the mixture that I'm still trying to figure out which way to turn and which end is up after the psychiatry appt I had w/the new pdoc last Friday.  I am scheduled to see my primary psychiatrist tmw.  The appt may need to be rescheduled because of some technical issues between the two clinics.  And even though I just want to get it done and over with, there is a small part of me that just doesn't want to go.  Accept the fact that this is as good as it gets.

I woke up yesterday morning determined that it was a new day.  No matter what I would revel in that aspect. I would find hope where hope was to be found.  It wasn't for naught....I tried. 

It is now into the wee hours of the next day.  Unable to sleep, searching for some sort of comfort.  It isn't in the M & M's that were on my table.  It isn't in the Dt. Cherry Pepsi that was in our fridge.  It is nowhere to be found in the food that has entered my mouth in hopes to drown out what seems to be taking over. 

The mind is a dangerous thing.  It is a weapon like none other.  It is moments like these that I know I need to pull out the tools and use them.  The tools that several years of therapy have provided me.  Yet, it isn't happening. 

Praying that I can have a bit of a relief.  Get back some of that fight that I had last week.  Once again...it's gone. 

Oh Sh!t

I have spent the last couple hours in a whirlwind of anxiety.  As the hustle and bustle of today has come to an end....my mind begins to race.

I barely got out of bed this am.  I just wanted to lay and watch it rain out my bay window.  My dh and I decided to head out and about. 

Felt good to be out.  Pain was minimal in my shoulder.   My head hurt, though.

I received a phone call that changed the entire day.  It is/was a good one.   The long waited new psych appt....they had a 7am new patient spot....tmw!  I took the spot and my headache went from tolerable to nauseating to I came home and slept from about 1-5.  I would have been in bed longer but my son had a concert tonight and we were headed to a little diner for dinner. 

Since coming home and the kids are in bed...it is quiet.  And with that comes some big thoughts and feelings.

Finally found the intake paperwork.  And what should have been 10min took over 2 hours.

My previous experiences were not good...and...they have all came crashing back at me in a matter of several hours.

I'm ready to pull the blankets over my head and hope I am able to get up at the 530am alarm without to much turmoil.