Memory Loss

I just came across this article that someone Tweeted: http://bit.ly/7qr91j

I know of a few people with depression and/or bipolar disorder who suffer with terrible memory problems. I am awful at remembering things. I can watch movies and completely forget what they're about a few days later. I've also - on at least two occasions - forgotten where I am when I'm driving a familiar route. I try not to panic, as I know that it'll only last a minute or so, but it's disconcerting all the same.

How I get through Christmas is beyond me.

Long Week

Mood Rating: 4/10

Ah, the inevitable nosedive... I kept poor hubby up into the wee hours crying and begging him to let me go. I told him that I'm beginning to resent family and friends for forcing me to live. I know that sounds very melodramatic, but I'm sure that anyone else who suffers with a mental illness would understand.

Hubby eventually resorted to giving me 2 Valium so that he could knock me out and hopefully make me sleep it off. Sadly, I felt just as bad in the morning. I managed to tell my brother's girlfriend, who promptly turned up on my doorstep. She let me have a good grizzle, and I began to pick up again within a couple of hours.

The day improved with the help of a few drinks in town, which again turned into many drinks in town. Of course, come home time I took a dive. I ended up staying at a friend's for the night, which helped keep me stable. The next day, hubby picked me up and took me for a sunbed. Whilst laying there, I resolved to keep busy for the day in order to keep my spirits up. It worked. I also got 3 week's worth of ironing done.

Monday the social worker came round to visit. She thought that I might benefit from a visit and assessment by the Crisis Team. I also went to see my GP who decided to begin the Olanzipine that day. It made me very tired on Tuesday, so I slept most of the day, but my mood certainly remained stable.

On Wednesday, the Crisis Team came to assess me. To my surprise, they agreed that I would benefit from their help. They are basically a team of nurses who help those that should be hospitalised stay in their own homes. At present, both myself and my pdoc don't think that hospitalisation would help me.

The Crisis Team stayed for about 2 hours assessing me, and we decided that I'd benefit from daily visits for 3 days. On the 3rd day (Saturday 28 April), I'll be re-assessed. From there they may visit daily, every other day, weekly, or not at all if I've improved dramatically. They're going to begin to address some of my issues, mainly suicide, self-harm, and my social phobia. If I progress, I'll be handed back to the social worker, but the Crisis Team will be there if need be.

One of the team visited me today and we spoke about using a mood scale, much like I've done on this blog since the beginning. So, instead of saying (which I've never managed to do), "I feel suicidal," which is a terrible thing to have to admit to family, I can say, "I'm a 3." A 3 seems to be my crisis point; I could go either way, but it's usually down. If I can admit to my husband that I'm a 3, he can hopefully intervene and help me through it.

Tonight I think I may have helped myself through a low point. After a long day working for my husband's boss, I found my mood dipping (obviously through having to return home) to a 4. However, since beginning to write this entry, I've improved to a 5 or 6. This is the kind of thing that I need to identify as something which helps me get through the bad times. I really need to learn to keep my moods under control rather than them controlling me. It sounds easy, but it's something which I've become complacent with. I don't know whether I'll manage it or not, but at the moment, I think that with the help of the Crisis Team and various other bodies, I could get there.

Aside from blogging this evening, I've bought a book called 'Mind Over Mood: Cognitive Treatment Therapy Manual for Clients' which my pdoc mentioned as being extremely good. It contains worksheets and patient examples, etc. I'm really not into 'self-help' books, but it has received a pretty good write-up and, at the moment, I'm willing to try almost anything.

I'm working for my husband's boss again tomorrow, so it'll be another long day. I think that I'll have a nice drink when I get home to help me relax. I'm not too sure how well alcohol and Olanzipine mix, but I'll go slow. As usual, it's recommended that you don't drink whilst taking this medication, but I'm usually okay. Let's just hope that I don't get the whole 'coming home' thing again.

Mood Rating: 6/10

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.

Suicidal Tendencies

I'd like to start this post off with a quote from the 2000 film '28 Days':

"No one adult human being is happy! People are born, they have a limited amount of time going around thinking life is dandy but then, inevitably, tragedy strikes and they realise life equals loss! The whole point of the game is to minimise the pain caused by that equation! Now some people do it by having kids, or making money, or taking up coin collecting, and others do it by getting wasted."

I'm in agreement with pretty much all of that. I don't spend my time getting wasted, but it sure is appealing. In short, I've had an awful weekend. It looked promising on Friday night: I went out with my husband and a couple of other people, got drunk and had fun. By 2am I was sitting here on my sofa with every blister pack, bottle and box of tablets that we had in the house. I had a drink ready, and I was quietly removing all the pills in preparation when my husband found me. He took all the pills away, leaving me in floods of tears, before tryng to lump me with a guilt trip about how he needs to tell someone so that some of the burden is lifted. To be quite frank, I'm past caring. If I cared, I wouldn't have attempted suicide again, now would I?

It is a very selfish thing, but that's what this darn illness is all about. It should be called 'Me' or 'I'. I'm just so tired of it. I'm tired of blundering my way through each day, looking forward to bedtime in the hope that I can sleep and forget everything for a few hours, all just to get up and do it again. If you can't see the point of life itself, is it worth living?

I was meant to go for a blood test - just to check my lithium levels which, at the moment, need checking weekly - about 10 days ago. I can't be bothered. In fact, I'd like to just come off of all of my meds. They're not working, so I don't see a reason to stay on them. Sadly, I can't just stop taking them. Both medications have awful withdrawal symptoms, which I hate. If I say this to my GP, she'll talk me into giving it more time. Hmmm... more time for me to kill myself perhaps? More time for them to scratch their heads? More time for them to hope that I bugger off?

If you've ever had your heart broken, for whatever reason, imagine living your daily life with that feeling in your chest - you know the one? That's how I feel all of the time. Yes, there are moments when I feel pretty normal, but I think around 80-90% of my life I feel as though my heart has just died or cracked. What the hell can make you feel that way?

I've really not managed to come to terms with knowing that I'll have this godforsaken illness for the rest of my life, and I'm not sure how to tackle that. I need a guarantee, something to work towards. I'm no good without goals, I need to have an aim. I'm never going to get that and it's just a terrible, gut-wrenching feeling; I feel physically sick.

Well, I might as well end this post on a cheerful note, much like the beginning. Here's there lyrics from a song used in the afore mentioned film, '28 Days':

I'd rather be dreaming than living
Living's just too hard to do
It's chances not choices
Noises not voices
A day's just a thing to get through
Living's just too hard to do

I'd rather be dreaming than talking
There's nothing to hear or to say
With ears covered mouth closed
The world is opposed
Nothing gets in or away
There's nothing to hear or to say

I'd rather be dreaming than thinking
Thoughts are small comfort to me
Dreams might be pretend
But at least dreams end
And I just can't stop thinking you see
Thoughts are small comfort to me

I'd rather be dreaming than sleeping
Just sleeping you're just as well dead
In dreams I can fly
In dreams I don't die
That's why I lie here in this bed
Just sleeping you're just as well dead
I'd rather be dreaming

('Dreaming' by Loudon Wainwright III)