Crash and Burn

I am at my Mom's house. Used to be I culd not wait to get to her home. Since she died I dread coming here. I feel and see Mom everywhere. Everything in the house reminds me of how hard she worked to buy her house, to furnish it, to decorate it and turn it into a home. Everywhere I look I see her ideas, her love, her personality.

I was putting her taxes together this afternoon and I could not stop crying. I felt so angry inside I thought I was going to explode. I kept coming across pension and retirement information. All these books, pamphlets, worksheets to help mom prepare to retire. I was feeling rage over how hard she worked and for what???? So she could become terminally ill 3 months after she retired? So she could die 7 months after she retired. It is a load of shit. I know life is not fair...but this is just too much to take in.

High, High, High

I would like to think I have some control over my moods. In fact, when I am in a depressive stupour I believe I am the one making me depressed, that it is my fault, that I am not trying hard enough to get well. Yesterday makes me really think I have some on/off, high/low "switch" in my brain.

Remember, I was distraught about being rejected in my last post. I obsessed about this all day and night for 3 days. Then Friday night I feel a change in my body. I am feeling extraordinarily wired, wound up, hyper...like I drank pots and pots of coffee. I cannot fall asleep despite having taken zopiclone and a couple extra strength muscle relaxants. I stay up until 2am and then fall into fitful sleep, waking off and on all night. Despite having decided to sleep in and catch a later ferry, (I am s/b going to see my sisters in my Mom's town), I wake at 6:30 am and feel energy racing through me.

My mind is racing...thoughts exploding everywhere...I'm having a hard time focusing/concentrating...but I feel such a rush of joy through my body that I do not care. My car breaks down almost as soon as I get off the ferry. I cannot find a garage. I have my dog and all my important belongings piled into the car...and normally I would be so stressed out/depressed/agitated in this situation...but today it seems like an adventure.

In this adventure I am talking to new people without fear, people are smiling at me and open to me. I feel accepted, cared for, attractive. In fact, I feel like I am a magnet to people...like everyone is attracted to me.

The world is different too. The colours of the trees, the sky, the ocean, everything, is intensified. It is as though everything is glowing and pulsating. I can see the life force in things. Even the car breaking down feels like an opportunity. It allows me to visit a new town....and the town is beautiful.

The above is SO completely opposite of my normal depressed experience that I cannot help but feel for a brief moment a switch in my brain was triggered...not sure why, or how...but god if only I knew, my life would be restored.

And Then the Door Slams Shut

Ahhhhhhhhhh! I want to scream. Four days ago I was going on and on about trust and how I am feeling safer and closer to my pdoc and now I am totally obsessing about how I think my pdoc is not being straight up with me.

I used to have pdoc appts on Tuesdays and Fridays. Then in late August last year my pdoc said we should try cutting back to once a week, not because I was better, but as an experiment to see if it would help me. Let's "shake things up a bit" were his words...see if less therapy impacts my mood. Instantaneously, I fell into a tailspin because I felt abandoned. Why would he see me less when I was feeling so severely depressed?

Well, I discovered my Mom was terminally ill the following week and his "experiment" went out the window. I moved up to my Mom's town to take care of her and could only return for appointments once every two weeks. Even with my Mom being so ill, overall my mood lifted. I knew why. While I was the one supposed to be "taking care of" someone, My Mom, just by being, was in fact helping me. She was such an incredible, loving and completely accepting person. I flourished around her, despite being desperately sad about her dying.

Anyways, When my Mom died in December I returned home. I began seeing Dr. X. on a regular basis again. I saw him twice a week for a couple weeks and then two weeks ago, when I went to book my next appointment, he said Tuesday was unavailable could I come Wednesday? So, thinking it was just a mix-up that week...I said sure. Because Wednesday was so close to Friday I felt uncomfortable asking for another appointment that week.

So on Wednesday I go to book my next appointment for two weeks from now (because I have to go away to do some estate stuff for my Mom...Dr X again asks me if Wednesday works for me. I just stood there feeling abandoned.

I felt like he was surreptitiously working to push me into only seeing him once a week. He only works Tuesday to Friday so if I come Wednesday Tuesday is out and Friday seems too close. I cannot seem to get the thought out of my mind that, rather than have the big long discussion about how less is more, he forced my hand.

Now...there is a teensy part of me that is considering whether or not I am being totally paranoid, but the rest of me is feeling totally rejected and distrustful of Dr. X's intentions.

I feel "let go" at a time when I need him more than ever. I am, just in the past few weeks, beginning to fully grieve my Mom's death. On top of that I am continuing to have severe depressive symptoms. I am having non-stop suicidal fantasies, panic attacks, anxiety attacks and trouble with alcohol. I have been going off all my meds (with Dr. X's approval)and isolating myself worse than ever before. I feel detached from my whole existence...like I am watching myself in a really bad, really sad, really scary movie.

The same appointment he cut back my appointments to Wednesday he told me He would, "see me when I was depressed (or needed help), but also, he would see me when I felt well too." At that moment I felt safe. I felt as though I could let go of all my fears of him dismissing me or giving up on me.

What I don't get is this..."Why do I feel as though he slammed the door shut in my face? Why do I "sense "a disconnect between his words..."I will help you"...and his actions? Why do I "sense" he is releasing me, trying to get rid of me, trying to stop seeing me? Am I being paranoid?

Are these my feelings transposed on to him? (i.e. I feel like I deserve to be dismissed, punished for not getting better etc...so I believe he MUST be feeling that too). How do you tell what is real and what is not?

Trust

God...this (Life)is all too difficult. Where to start?...

I have been hibernating, avoiding, neglecting, etc. for some time, thus the no post/no response since January. I do not know how to keep going since Mom is gone. I realized the other day she was the only person on earth that I truly trusted. For some reason trust is an extraordinarily difficult thing for me.

I realized a couple weeks ago that I need to relearn trust. Not sure how, but I suppose my pdoc appts are the best place to begin. I waffle between trusting him completely and believing he is just placating me, or has some hidden agenda. This is me of course...not him...he has never DONE anything to make me distrust him. It all lays in my interpretation of what is going on.

Two weeks ago I told him I had a big stash of meds at home...just "in case". He asked me if I thought he would not help me, or provide me with medication if I needed it? It is not that...it is that I am unable to ask for the help, or the medications. I feel like I am "drug seeking"...or out of control. I also keep the medications so I have a way out if I need it...a dangerous and counter-productive plan when you are depressed.

The next week I felt compelled to bring the stash to him. He looked surprised at how much I had kept...and vocalized how seeing all this medicine must really have a psychological effect on me...i.e. seeing all the meds I have tried, all that have failed, all I have had dependence problems with, etc.). He was dead on. I had had a dream about this very topic (dependence and addiction to meds and alcohol) just a few days prior. Anyways, I felt like handing over my stash was all about giving myself over to him in terms of trust, my trusting he will help me when I need help. Trusting he will not let me suffer if I do not have to.

When I went to yesterday's session the TRUST theme continued. I really opened up and told him about my suicidal thoughts. I brush over them in sessions all the time..."oh, and I had s. thoughts", or "I've been super depressed and plagued with s. thoughts", but I never feel comfortable REALLY talking about the content of the thoughts. I feel like he does not want to dwell on them, or that there is something wrong about talking about the details.

When my Mom was alive I could call her if I could not manage the thoughts anymore, if they became too overwhelming, or began compelling me to act. So, without her here, I feel extremely isolated and scared when they begin their attack.

Yesterday Dr X. and I talked about the details of my suicidal thoughts. We openly discussed the macabre and gruesome imagery that swirls around in my brain throughout parts of every single day. We have decided to try to face them head on and do some CBT work around these thoughts. I left my session feeling so listened to. I left feeling I was not going to be abandoned or dismissed for having a mind full of bizarre, obsessive and intrusive thoughts. I felt so much relief for having opened up, and trusting it would be okay to do so.