Do You Ever Feel...???

(Please note: I the following post I use the words, "crazy, insane, mad etc. loosely in describing only myself. I in no way intend, or even ever feel, that others having similar symptoms are anything but beautiful, though at times tragic), examples of the breadth of human experience). I'm just exhausted and weirded out and scared, and probably bitter and angry, about my own experience)

Do you ever feel like it doesn't really matter how you feel, because you are fucking insane, and everyone thinks you are crazy, so no one "really" listens anyways? And even if they did, the way you are would make absolutely no more sense to them than it does to you?

I feel like I am losing touch with reality. Yet, how can I be losing touch with reality if I know I am losing touch with reality? I am seeing more and more things around me, and inside me that are passing me some kind of meaning filled message/s...(though can't quite figure out the message/s...), that are making me feel like I am being sent messages, or things are showing themselves to me in order that I find some deep meaning in their presence.

(Eg., mood switching up after going to the front of the church and praying every night, mystical animals (crows) appearing when I need them to appear, pictures of wolves falling off my bookshelves, another wolf appearing on a torn out page of a children's book, right in front of me on the sidewalk, and then the terrifying wolves showing up in my nightmare, then the number 3: three pictures, the 3 nightmares, each nightmare made up of 3 parts)

Thing is, although my mind really does believe this "messages are being passed to me" idea pretty deeply...I can also see that maybe I'm crazier than I thought or something is happening whereby things just "happen", or "show up" at truly random times and places and for some reason my brain is seeing all these things as signs or patterns of meaning that I am MEANT to see??? God help me...

Since I got out of the hospital I have been severely depressed, almost more severely than when I went into the hospital...except last Wed evening my mood started to rise and I had a really great week. All week the rapid onslaught of negative and suicidal thoughts completely stopped, and I felt hope again. I felt like I was cared for, had tons more energy, felt talkative and social. I pretty much felt like I was on the mend. In fact, I felt sure I was becoming well.

...Until Sunday at 5pm.

You read that correctly.

Somewhere around 5pm on Sunday the voice inside my head returned with no warning and no reason behind it returning. {note: Although for the two nights prior, I had really two really bad nightmares, the likes of which I haven't had for a long time (and last night my wolf returned to me in another nightmare}

Just as I was entering the 5 rd bridge the voice/thought, (It has no sound...so it is not really a "voice", but it seems external), said to me:

"You have failed everyone. You have disappointed your dad so much, what a waste of life you are". And I started to cry.

Ever since then the voice has been going on and on about every bad thing I do, or mistake I make, how everyone really is sick of me, how I am not really loved by my boyfriend, how he is pulling away from me, how I have disappointed him and destroyed our relationship, etc.,

Then the voice switches to telling me how fucked up and wrong my thinking is, and how I am just imagining all this stuff and if I would just stop thinking it would all go away...but either way the voice goes on and on and on...maybe it is two voices?? I don't know anymore what is real, and what is my brain having crazy talk.

These thoughts/voices intensify and speed up or slow down. I believe they are magnified when my anxiety gets worse...as I have been having really bad anxiety/panic attacks. It may be though that the voices/thoughts are causing the anxiety as they begin to race faster and faster, and seem to be pushing me to change or die...whichever.

Either way there is an OCD like quality to them...including having a song I have recently listened to play relentlessly over and over and over in my head, as a torturous accompaniment to the thoughts that continue, and often race, faster and faster, harder and harder, over, and over and over, and over. Unstoppable. Unrelenting.

Sometimes I get so much "bad energy" inside me that the voice starts to speed up and it talks at me, over and over and over, at mach speed; incessant, punishing, shame inducing, and guilt producing. Often the voice has suicidal plots and plans, and reasons to die . Lately this is much much worse than any time I can remember before. It is like the thoughts are trying to push me.

If I wasn't crazy before...something inside me is aware I am crazier now. This is not right. I can see I am having strange thoughts...but my brain cannot seem to stop thinking (and while I am having them), believing these thoughts. Please, help me!!! Am I completely losing my mind?

Will This Pain Ever Really End?

(William Blake, "Pity" 1795, Tate Gallery)

Like in Blake's painting...I feel like a woman who has had her child, albeit in my case, her inner child, ripped from inside her. Is it wrong to feel angry...even enraged, about my situation? Today I felt like walking into the hospital screaming, "HELP ME!...SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP ME!" I cannot take it anymore. I don't know how to get better.

Of course, I fucking "know" how to get better. Do all the goddamn things everyone tells me to do to get better. Get some exercise, see my friends, make more friends, call the friends I have, call old friends, smile more, look straight ahead, not at the ground, quit shuffling your feet, clean your house, challenge my negative thinking, stop thinking in black and white, go to church, read, go to school, take art classes, connect with my family, eat less, eat better, cook better, draw, paint, teach, take better care of myself, bathe more, dress better, tidy my house, get back to work, budget my money, breathe properly, let go, stop thinking about myself, stop crying, stop being self absorbed, do more, think less, drink more water, take vitamins, take supplements, go to sleep early, get up earlier, stop coffee, drink no alcohol, canoe, ski, hike, camp, work sing, paint, create, love people, stop being angry...STOP BEING ANGRY! STOP BEING DEPRESSED...you have everything you need. So many people have so much less than you and they are happy. Stop thinking about suicide. Participate in therapy, Do what you are supposed to do. Take your medication/s. Depression is treatable. You are just not trying hard enough.

So they say...but how do these things if I am so depressed I cannot do these things. How do I do these things if nothing I try, including medications, ever helps for any length of time?

I love Dr. X. I love him as a therapist, a clinician, and on some level, as a valued friend and family member. I trust him, his knowledge, his ability to help others, his ability to help people manage their mental illnesses. I know he cares about me and my welfare. He wants to see me well. I know he tries so hard to help me...but I think I am "unhelpable".

When I met him I felt so relieved that finally someone was helping me who knew how to help me. I felt so lucky to have met such a patient, compassionate and caring psychiatrist. Finally, I felt I was in good hands. ...and I was, and I am.

I still think I am in good hands. I still think Dr. X is extremely intelligent and knowledgeable about Major Depression and Bipolar Disorder, other Mental Illnesses and their treatments. I still believe he is a great psychiatrist. I even think that for many with a "treatment resistant" depression he is likely able to help them.

I think the problem is that my depression is not "treatment resistant", rather it is "absolutely unresponsive". I feel angry because if I had a physical illness that caused this much pain I would be given something to at the very least stop the pain. If my illness was physical, I could get some relief. I have no idea what a similar "pain medication" would look like for severe depression...maybe morphine to knock me out, to not allow me to feel, or some kind of heavy duty tranquillizer combined with an extended stay in some kind of long term care place...like what a sanitarium was supposed to be.

I completely understand why some people with mental illnesses, especially chronic ones, turn to hard drugs. Last night even I was thinking...maybe if I got some heroin, and just injected enough to relieve some of this pain...even for a while, it might be worth it.

If there is nothing out there that helps me...how will I keep going? Better question is WHY would I keep going. I do not understand what I did to make this be happening to me. I always tried to be a good person. I feel like I must have done something really bad in my past life, or in this life, to be left feeling like this for so long. I feel like I am in Hell.

Invalidated

Sometimes my therapy works to help me understand why certain patterns repeat in my life over and over again. Today's therapy was like that.

Therapy always leaves me feeling "heard", and (mostly) understood. This is something intensely important for me. I think today's session revealed why these two things are extremely interconnected and even more importantly, why they are so important to me and my well-being.

I just returned from a short vacation at a horse ranch and spa in the B.C. interior. I went with my beau, my friend E and my sister and 2 nieces. I haven't seen my sister for a while. When she came to my house in preparation to leave she told my boyfriend and I that my Dad might "pop in" to the ranch to visit.

This information put a damper on my vacation from the start. I love my Dad, but he is often not very nice to me. I find him very difficult to be around. To me it seemed intrusive for him to jut show up.

When I mentioned my stress about Dad coming my sister began saying things like:

• "He's not like that".
• "You need to give him a chance".
• "He does not treat you poorly".
• "He is always nice to you".
• "You know Dad, he just doesn't know how to talk, and you make it worse by getting hurt by him"
• "You have to get over your problems with Dad"

I felt completely letdown by my sister. She has seen my Dad reduce me to tears more times than probably I can remember. She hears and watches him ruthlessly tease me and belittle me. I thought she recognized why I so often feel hurt by how it treats me. Apparently, according to her, Dad isn't the instigator, in fact, he does not treat me poorly at all. It is just my wrong perceptions that hurt me.

I am willing to concede, that after years of emotional, and at times when I was a child and a young teenager, physical abuse, that I am sensitive to how he treats me. I know sometimes I overreact to small triggers. I believe though, that this overreaction is not my fault, but the fault of a man, who is supposed to be my father, continuing to abuse me, and destroy what little self-esteem I have left. At times I think he belittles me, and holds back his love from me, for the fun of it, just to watch me fall apart and cry.

It is funny (not ha, ha...but strange funny) that this weekend when my sister and I were canoeing near my Dad's canoe, we sped up really fast and in unison yelled, "Dad, look at us". We both cracked up when we realized some small child inside ourselves was still screaming, "Daddy, Daddy, look at me, look at me".

To make things worse my sister also began lecturing me on how:

• "no wonder you are depressed. you sleep so much, how are you ever going to get well if all you do is sleep?". (this comment came 1/2 way through the vacation, just when I was marvelling at my ability to do as much as I was, when I felt as depressed as I felt)
• "If you did more you would get better" (neglecting that to do more I would need to have the missing motivation, energy, and mood, and ability to do more...all these have been ripped from me throughout this MDD
• " You are never going to be someone unless you get doing things." Translation: your life will never amount to anything if you do not get back to work. You are choosing to stay depressed. You are only an important person if you are working and contributing to society.

There were more comments like these throughout her lectures...the thing that really hurt me, was that I thought she was the sister that understood how hard I try. I thought she understood how depressed I am, and how that impacts my ability to do things.

On top of this my boyfriend talked to me about how, "You are not sick, nothing is wrong with you" A statement that left me feeling really unheard, and misunderstood. It is not that I want to be sick, or seen as sick, but I also do not want others to think nothing is wrong with me, and I am just to lazy to try harder in my life.

I talked to Dr. X about what went on with my sister and my boyfriend, but I could not really place why I felt as hurt as I did. Dr. X said maybe it was because I felt invalidated by their comments.

That is EXACTLY what I felt and feel when these kinds of discussions take place. My family is not listening to me. They are not understanding how difficult this battle is for me. I feel like I am battling for my life, but they do not even acknowledge I am in a battle. They see my difficulties as a character flaw.

Dr. X and I discussed how both my sisters', and my Dad's expectations of performance are mirroring the malevolent feelings of guilt I have about not working; how the family belief system is so ingrained in all of us that it just keeps replicating this guilt, and guilt inducing, behaviour in everyone in our family. It is true. I belittle and poke and prod myself to do more, do something, get going, get active....Get better...get back to work. I have become the voice of my father, and the voice of my sister...that why it hurts so much to hear. I am hearing the same guilt producing words I hear every single day from myself.

I know my sisters both love me. I think my Dad probably does too. When I realize their voices are replicating negative patterns that are held deep within our family's psyche. I recognize these thoughts and feelings are held unconsciously, and so deeply they may always be there.

On many levels I know my sisters, my Dad, and my boyfriend are really trying to help me. I understand they may see their comments as encouraging, and helpful. I think they want what is best for me. Sadly, when I hear these kinds of comments I feel he exact opposite: I feel unbearably guilty, alone, unheard, and invalidated.

Helpless and Hopeless

(aqua, study in charcoal of a poppy/2005)

That helpless/hopeless feeling is setting in again. That sense that I am falling deeper and deeper into depression again and no matter what I do, or how much I struggle I remain intensely fatigued, depressed, apathetic, dissociative/depersonalized, confused, isolating and unable to sleep.

I want to hide out, in bed, in my back room with the curtains closed. I am so angry at myself for being this way. When my thoughts turn to angry depression I begin visualizing about ways and places and times to hang myself, suffocate myself...die. I feel like my life will never get back on track.

It takes all my energy to get going in the morning, even to take the dog for a short walk, or to write this post, and those are things I usually like to do. Everything seems like a chore: a dreaded chore. The real chores, housework, cooking etc. ,simply are not getting done and it is making me feel intensely guilty for not contributing to the running of our household, and my husband increasingly hostile towards my "laziness".

On top of feeling helpless/hopeless I had that same feeling of dread I had last week as I headed to teach my Youth Art Class Monday night. I tried to sleep all day in preparation for it, but just lay there awake wishing I didn't have to go. At 2: 00ish I dragged myself out of bed and went to class. When it began I felt myself becoming more social than I expected. At the same time I also felt it was harder than usual to do.

When I woke up Tuesday morning I wanted so badly to not go teach my drawing class that morning. I felt I just couldn't do it anymore. I feel overwhelmed with two classes and a puppy to look after. However, I pushed myself, because I committed to teach the class.

On my way to class, despite my exhaustion, apathy, and depression; I also felt an intense sense of ennui. That made me begin to thinking maybe I need to do more, not less, stimulating, "scheduled/regular", work like things everyday. Maybe my husband is right. Maybe I should get back to work.

If I am at home all I feel I can do is lay down,sleep, or watch t.v. If I am doing something work like at least, for a while, I get a sense of accomplishment, and my mood lifts while involved and distracted.

The problem is I cannot even manage to do what I want and/or need to do: like keep my house clean, cook, grocery shop, do household chores and even paint like I want to. How do I work more when I can't manage the little I do now?

I feel extremely frustrated by my lack of stability, by my not working, and by my not contributing. These all feed my bad mood and anger. I know that. I know I need to do more, but how?

Why Didn't I...

I slept most of the day yesterday. I just do not want to be here. I'm too tired and everything is too hard to do. I cancelled going to a drop in writing class today, because I just don't want to see anyone.

Yesterday, as I tried to sleep, my puppy would curl up beside me on the bed. The bad thoughts would come. I tried really hard to speak lovingly to my puppy, tell him how much I loved him, pet him, feel how soft and velvety his floppy ears feel, sense the warmness of him laying next to me. I tried every time the thoughts came to fill my mind with thoughts of love, and caring, but the thoughts both wouldn't go away, and then began to challenge me:

Why didn't you get your oldest niece to call 911? The police would have stopped the dog attack?

Why didn't you take a stick and poke the attacking dog/s in the eyes, or ears, or some other vulnerable place? That would have stopped the attack.

Why didn't you run up to the house and grab the axe? Why didn't you hit the attackers with the axe? That would have stopped the attack.

Honestly, even if I had the presence of mind to think of those things during the attack, I do not think I could have maimed or hurt the attackers. I didn't want the dogs hurt, I just wanted the attack to stop. I couldn't have killed, or maimed them, anymore than I could permanently harm a human. When I was hitting them, and throwing rocks at them I was trying to stun them, or distract them so they let go of the puppy.

Yet beyond the initial playback of the attack, over and over in my mind, is the feeling and playback of criticisms in my head that I did not do enough to protect and help the puppy; that as a caregiver I did not live up to my responsibilities to protect my sister's children and her dogs.

Some of it was my fear. The dogs were huge and powerful Husky/Akita/Wolf cross dogs weighing appox. 150 lbs each. Also, the fence where the attack was taking place was short...only 4 feet tall. The dogs were almost as tall. I was scared they would jump the fence and attack me, or grab me if I tried to go into their yard and haul them off the puppy. My first thought should have been to protect the ones in my care. I should have done more.

I think the thoughts keep coming, because in my life I never have been afraid of dogs. I always felt I would be in charge if a dog became vicious. I had been around large police dogs my whole life. There was a sense of complete panic and helplessness during the attack that I cannot get over. It has affected my sense that I have the ability to protect my puppy. I love him so much I feel terror that I might lose him because of a mistake I might make.