Saturday, July 21, 2007

The one where my head explodes

So, I know that I posted something [insert link here to post from last month that I can't link to because my system keeps crashing - you can go find it if you really care] about our living situation and how life in general is just the worst it could ever possibly be, blah blah negativity, blah blah bad coping skills, yada yada I hate everything. Remember that?

I think I may have finally snapped. I've reached the point where I contemplate things that are very, very bad. I can see no hope, ever. I am very, very angry (angry is the only alternative to sad). I take out my anger on those I love. I am one scary bitch sometimes. My in-laws think I'm certifiable. My husband is worried. My mother is worried. My children are terrified.

I'm actually thinking about giving my other meds another try (the ones that made me so groggy that I was still tired and therefore intensely angry the next morning). That's how desperate I am to make this stop. I can't control this on my own, through sheer force of mind. I've tried. My willpower is no match for chemistry. I've tried to think positive. Really I have. It's not working. All I want to do is scream, or cry, or throw things, or hit someone. Everything makes me angry. I'm so worried, and scared, and I have all of these terrible thoughts that I can't stop from coming into my head. I have thought, and said, and done things that I can't even post on the Internet. And I'm anonymous, here. So, technically, I *could* post them here, but I'm too ashamed to do it. It's that bad.

At the same time, I'm strangely detached. I can see, as if from a distance, some harried looking woman screaming at my children. She honks and screams at strangers on the road when they don't drive to suit her. This lady makes rude comments to people who care about her. And all the time, *I* am sitting over here thinking, "who is this crazy lady? why doesn't someone lock her up? or at the very least shoot her a tranquilizer dart?" She looks like me, and she sounds like me, but I don't *feel* like her. Sometimes, I can't feel anything. For days on end, I walk around like a zombie, impervious to anything - I can't feel pain, but I can't feel joy either. Then, suddenly, all I can feel is this crushing despair, the kind that makes you need to stick your head in the oven. It's overwhelming - I can't breathe, can't think, can't see past the fact that this is my life, and it's never going to get any better, and it will always be this miserable, pathetic thing that I never wanted in the first place. All the weight of all our problems just presses down on me like - something cliche, I'm sure. And in those moments, my whole life is just one big disaster, closing in on me, and it's going to be that way forever. And it's killing me. And then it's gone, and I'm numb again.

Reading this over, it sounds pretty melodramatic, I think. It takes a special gift to write well about things like tragedy and sadness and anger without sounding trite or overdone. That's a gift that I don't have, as you can see. However, it makes me feel better to get some of this out there and off my mind. It's for me. I'm going to try upping my anxiety meds a bit (you think?!) and possibly going back to my antipsychotic*. Or maybe even trying something else. I'll be doing some serious research just as soon as I get my ass out of this sling. Something has to work, at some point. They say the meds can only take you so far, and you have to do the rest on your own, which is totally true. You have to *want* to get better, and you have to actively work at it. But at the same time, there is a chemical component, which is exacerbated by the situation at hand, and if that's not resolved first, I can't even *want* to get better, much less take steps in the right direction (the right direction being *away* from the oven, for those of you still reading).

So, yeah.

life=shit
+me=crazy
--------------
things=bad


*That makes it sound so awful! "Psyhcotic" has such negative connotations. It's actually very useful for bipolar depression, or so the survey says...

3 comments:

Ninotchka said...

I'm so glad you wrote this. I hope it helped to get it out. It would only sound trite to someone who has never been there or is in deep denial. I can relate to it all: the anger, the numbness, the fatigue, the out-of-body like outbursts. ALL OF IT. And I agree it's 99% chemical. I go around these days marveling at the level of sanity I feel. My low times are the exception not the rule. Yet a couple of years ago, I was a post partum psycho (like for real) and I was battling some serious demons. Or I should say, one demon: MYSELF. My body. It was awful. Any positivity and happiness I could muster was a serious miracle during those low times and definitely what got me through. Sometimes I felt as though I had to dig real deep, you know? So don't be so hard on yourself. Take whatever steps you need to take to try to solve this chemical puzzle. You will be OK because I know that deep down inside is a very beautiful, kind, brilliant, funny you. I'm an excellent judge of character so don't even try to argue with me.

::::hugs::::

julie said...

What does your doctor say? It just seems like there are so many meds out there -- SOMETHING's gotta work, doesn't it?

And I agree with Ninotchka: you are wonderful. Don't underestimate the chemistry part, it's real.

Psychomom said...

Your words sound very familiar to my mind that turned on itself after having my sons. The hardest part was watching the ones I needed and thought loved me run away. I still feel alone with my pain but it has gotten better over the years even though I gave up on the meds.

Don't give up trying and only take what you can handle.

I know there is one crazy woman out there that doesn't really know you but cares about you and wants to help if you need some.