Can't Take Much More

I can't sleep yet again. I have no Valium and I'm trying not to smoke so much cannabis. So, here I am again. I've been to bed and tried to read, but I can't follow the story; I can barely read a sentence without my mind racing off.

I took my dog down the beach alone this evening, which is something I never do. I parked the car, walked about half a mile, then sat on the beach and cried. Somehow I managed to pull myself together and carried on walking. I probably walked about 2 miles in total. I was frozen to the bone, but I just couldn't face coming home. If there was anyone I could've stayed with tonight, I would have. Don't get me wrong, it's not my husband or my home life, I just didn't want to be here, or anywhere familiar.

I'm withdrawing into myself more and more. My poor husband is at his wits end, but I just cannot physically open my mouth and tell him what's going on, probably because I don't even understand it myself. But I used to say, "Oh, I'm feeling down," or whatever, but I can't even bring myself to say that anymore.

I don't know where to turn. I have no medical contact who I can call on, and what the hell would I say? What can they honestly do for me immediately? I'm not sure I can last through another course of treatment that may or may not work.

I'm tired, my head hurts, I feel sick, I can't eat, I keep crying all the time. I just don't want to live like this. And worse, even if the doctors get me on an even keel, who's to say I won't have episodes like this in the future? What kind of future is that to look forward to? It's certainly not fair on my family; they're worried sick right now.

I'm in a bad way. I shouldn't have even driven this evening. I wasn't concentrating properly and I wasn't even sure of where I was half the time, and I know this town like the back of my hand.

I feel like I've got absolutely nowhere and no one to turn to. I can't explain all of this to my family or friends, and I don't even want to. I don't want to burden them any more than I already have.

Feeling Squiffy

I'm not sure if I'm on a downward spiral or not, but I've been tired all day and I haven't been able to get much work done, which is not a lot different from most of this week. My train of thought has been all over the place today. In this kind of mood, I can make odd plans. It's really hard to explain, but I dream up things that probably wouldn't occur to a 'normal' person.

I ended up back in bed this afternoon and I've just woken up. I don't feel much better. I need to work this evening, so I can only hope that I'll feel better soon.

My kitchen needs cleaning, and I should really be thinking about getting some dinner on, but I just can't manage it today. I'm physically capable, I guess, but I'm not mentally. My husband came home for lunch today and I made toasted cheese sandwiches, but I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I was more on autopilot than anything else. It's times like this when I might burn myself or worse.

Where have all these symptoms come from? Since being diagnosed in August 2006, I've just got worse and worse. I can't wait for my appointment with the mental health centre next month. I really should go to the doctor before then, but the GP I built up a rapport with has left, and I just can't face getting to know someone else.

I must sound so pathetic. In fact, I am pathetic. I hate being this way.

The Positive Things

What a dreary old blog. I'm rarely thankful for what I have, which is a lot more than a lot of people. My husband is just wonderful. He cares for me in many ways and loves me more than anything else on this Earth. I have a wonderful family, including 3 brothers, my mum and dad, and my granddad, not to mention 5 gorgeous nieces. I live in a nice flat in a great area. I have my pets for company throughout the day and I also see my mum on a daily basis. I have a job that I love (most of the time) and I'm pretty good at it. I have 2 great close friends and a number of other friends, too. I guess this all goes to show that it definitely is a chemical imbalance; how could anyone be unhappy living a life like this?

One of my friends dragged me swimming yesterday, which turned out to be pretty good. However, I did manage to fall in rather than step in, and I could really do with a trip to A&E.

I'm not feeling very well today, but my mental health feels fairly stable. I should make the most of days like these, but I'm rather worn out today. I could do with some pampering - a nice day at a spa or something similar. Sounds very posh, but it'd help to relax and forget things for a while.

I'm not particularly looking forward to this weekend. My husband's working on Saturday, then he's off to a 'do' that I've decided not to attend. On Sunday he'll be out airsofting (BB guns), so I'm going to be pretty much alone until Easter weekend. Sometimes I'm better off on my own, but I fear that this may prove a little too much. Maybe something else will come up. We might go out on Friday night or something.

Anyway, I thought I'd write a slightly more positive entry for once, whilst I had some spare time.

4 Months On

I have no idea where the time goes and, to be honest, I can't remember most of it. I've just read through my blog to see what has changed over the months since being diagnosed, but sadly, little has changed.

I did decide to make a conscious effort to get out more, which I enjoy. However, going out often brings on a manic episode, which may last for the evening or for a few days, but it's always followed by a low - I'm coming down this evening, in fact.

Over Christmas 2006, my GP and I decided that lithium was just not doing the trick for me. I slowly came down and took my last dose on Christmas Eve. I'm definitely more comfortable being off of the lithium; no shakes, etc. However, I'm still in a mess and it doesn't appear to be improving.

I haven't attempted suicide again, but I have cut myself a couple of times when I've been inconsolable. I sometimes have terrible crying fits where I honestly feel heartbroken, like someone has died or something. I found that hurting myself stops the tears and kind of levels me out. So far I've managed to explain away the scars, but I don't really care. I'm covered in scars anyway, and no one would understand if I told them the truth. Having said this, I haven't cut myself for about 2 months now. I did have a crying episode about 2 weeks ago. I ended up in the toilet, barely able to breathe. I thought my heart had finally broken and I began retching into the toilet. It felt as though I may be able to purge my body of something. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. I pulled myself together, but I just couldn't bring myself to talk to my husband or anyone. I guess this is why I've picked up the blog again. I need some sort of outlet, but the thought of talking to anyone just doesn't feel as though it'd help. There's one person that I'd love to spill my guts to, but I feel that it'd be unfair to burden them with all the shit that goes through my head.

I've also started to self-medicate. I started with cannabis, just every now and again to help me sleep, but in the last 6 weeks I've added sleeping pills. I can't sleep more than 4 hours at a time, which leaves me feeling terrible. The sleeping tablets alone help me to go off to sleep, but I found that I still woke up after 4 hours. Now I couple Valium (bought rather than prescribed) with a large bong before bed. It gets me right through the night. This evening I've opted to try the Valium alone, but it doesn't seem to be working. I'm a little tired, but I'm also very depressed tonight. It came on around 10pm. I've been pretty happy all week otherwise.

A letter arrived on Friday to say that I'd missed an appointment with the NHS psychiatrist. I saw them last in October 2006, and they said they'd want to see me in 4 month's time, but I had heard nothing since then, until this letter. I telephoned them to say that I had not received the initial appointment, but I will happily keep the one they have rescheduled for 17 April. Again, I think it'll be a waste of time. I haven't even been allocated someone to contact should I enter a bad cycle. However, I will be seeing the actual consultant this time, rather than some trainee. I really need to prepare myself to confess about the self-medication, but I don't want to take the flack that I'm likely to get. I'm trying hard to be responsible about my added meds, but it's nice to be able to sleep through the night and work properly again.

As I mentioned, I'm off of the lithium, but my dosage of Venlafaxine has been increased to 300mg/day. I've been on a higher dose before now, so I'd imagine that it'll be raised again.

To be honest, I think I need some time away to be treated. The only thing that stops me telling anyone is that I'd have to leave my dog, which I just couldn't do. She's very dependent on me, and I believe that I am on her, too. Another thing that worries me is that I'd be completely fine in a different and controlled environment, and that I wouldn't be believed. That would also shed light on my current lifestyle, which I'd be loathed to change very much. I don't know what the answer is.

My father, who subsidises my income, has been made bankrupt this week. Again, I am worried for my family and what this means to them, but I can help but fear for myself. There's no way I can go out and get a 'normal' job, and I'm finding my own job very difficult in terms of earning potential. There's no way that my husband can earn any more in his job, although he has asked, but we certainly couldn't survive on his wage alone. In fact, I pay for pretty much everything as dear hubby ran up debts which he's paying back (slowly). Needless to say, this has added to the stress and depression. I don't know which way is up right now.

In this kind of state, I just cannot see further than the end of my nose. If this is the way my life is going to be forever more, I don't think I want it, but I don't know how to get out of it either. I have obviously contemplated suicide on numerous occasions, but my husband now locks away all of our tablets, which would be my method of choice. I'm not sure that I can settle for a way of coping, which is basically all doctors can offer. I don't want to cope, I want to be normal. I want to be able to have a normal job where I can earn a decent wage. I want to be happy in my marriage, which I kind of am, although it's lacking something. I want to be able to go out unaccompanied. I want to go clubbing, like normal 20-somethings do. It's all so out of reach, though.

I'm going to keep an abridged diary to give to the psychiatrist next month. Maybe, if he can see exactly when and where my moods dip, he may be able to shed some light on a way forward. I hate placing any hope on our mental health system, but I don't really have any other choice.