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?

Am I BeingSpied On

Am I being spied on? Am I doing something wrong that I should worry about being spied on?

I feel really rattled right now. I just had a most uncomfortable interaction with my landlord and I cannot shake the feeling that he is spying on me and came to my door to interrogate me. The conversation was very stilted, sounded planned, and awkward. I wish I just had the courage and conviction to tell people things are none of their business.

What happened:
My landlord, "C" rang my doorbell. I answered,as my door was open and he could see I was in...I probably wouldn't have answered if that weren't the case. I would have shrunk into the shadows and pretended I was not home, because he and is family scare me.

When I answered he asked me how I was doing...but the tone wasn't a polite, light conversational opener type "how are you"...it was more demanding information sounding. The reason I say this is because upon my saying okay he immediately asked me if I was working.

This question caught me completely off guard...though it shouldn't have because I stress everyday about him, or his family learning I am on a leave from work. He was just so blunt. It was weird. I didn't have time to think of how I could protect myself, and maintain my privacy...so I blurted out, yes I am working.

Immediately I thought ...He is asking me these questions in his professional "insurance adjuster" capacity. This belief was further enhanced when his next question immediately popped out of his mouth: What do you teach?

I could feel myself getting increasingly stressed...how do I answer without being dishonest, but also without telling an insurance adjuster I am working. The last thing I need is for him to think I am being dishonest by being on disability, but still working.

Note:(In reality I am not "working" in the sense that would be construed as fraudulently collecting disability insurance and working on the side. I "work" (volunteer) in an art clubhouse where teaching classes is a part of a mental illness rehabilitation program)

Regardless, of what a big part of me understands is my rehabilitation as opposed to my fraudulently working...I am so scared by all his questions.

I told him I teach printmaking and mixed media art classes. His questions kept coming...he asked twice how my boyfriend was...and he had an look of concern/perturbation on his face that was so strong that I asked him if everything was okay with me as a tenant.

Am I doing okay as a tenant? Are there any problems with my being here?, I asked. At this point I was almost on the verge of tears, and could feel myself overheating because of the stress. He said no, I was a perfect tenant.

Why then is he asking me all these questions? (His Dad has asked me about my working, and a couple times asked me why I am not at work too. I feel so uncomfortable with these questions, but I cannot think of what to say to avoid answering)

Then he asked me if I had the internet hooked up. I did this morning I told him. He then asked if I wanted to share the connection with him; me paying half and he the other half. Immediately I became intensely paranoid again. I asked him about how that might affect my privacy, i.e. if he had access to my connection via wifi/or shared connection could he see what I was doing online? Does anyone out there know the answer to this? How secure is my browsing/laptop info if I share with him, especially given he has the computer skills to spy?

When "C" left I almost got sick. I am freaking out right now...I revealed so much...told him I was working, said I'd think about a shared connection etc. He then asked me if I had my new computer. I told him I was getting one soon.

He offered to help me get a computer saying he had vendor connections. He asked me what I used it for..and I overshared and gave out too much information. Rather than say it was none of his business, I said that would be great...but inside I kept thinking he was doing this so he could install some kind of spyware on my computer so he could monitor me/spy on me.

Every time I see him, or his sister or Dad I freak out and hide in my suite until they are gone. I think I do this because I feel scrutinized and criticized at best, and spied on at worst.

I want to think I am imagining all my fears of spying, and I keep trying to reassure myself and act like I have a right to be off work and taking care of myself without fear of getting in trouble for doing things "worklike" to try to rehabilitate myself, and get back to real work and a life worth living...but more and more I think I really am being spied on.

Am I being spied on? Or am I delusional? What do those reading this post and my recent experience think?

Note: He works for a giant insurance company, has seen me receive mail from my employer's HR department every two weeks, lives in the house my suite is in so sees me home all the time, always seems uncomfortable around me and way too snoopy.

This is so stressful. Every time I leave my suite I look first to see if anyone in the house is here to see me at home (again), because I am so afraid of being seen as not working. I try to plan to stay away for at least 1/2 days if I go out...so it at least looks as though I might have at least a part time job. I am getting worn out by trying to pretend all the time...or by trying to reassure myself that it doesn't matter what his family, or him know about me. I really don't believe it doesn't matter, and I really believe something weird /nefarious is going on.

Paranoia and Social Anxiety

Last night I went with my boyfriend to his house to celebrate a friend's birthday. I felt anxious about going beforehand, but have wanted to get to know his friends more so really felt it was important I go.

The party was taking place in the garden. When we arrived there was an incredible local bluegrass band playing. Instantaneously I loved their music. I really wanted to experience their songs fully. However, as I stepped onto the deck and was introduced to a few people I had this intense sense of panic and fear. I wanted so badly to leave, get out of there, disappear.

I stayed. I continued to panic. no one talked to me and I was to scared to talk to anyone. In fact I felt too frightened to even moved lest someone was watching me. I felt like if I move everyone would look at me. When they looked at me they would think bad things about me.

The more I experienced these thoughts the more socially awkward I became. The more socially awkward I became, the more anxious I became. After about 1/2 an hour of this I went into my boyfriend's room too calm down and get myself together. As I stepped into the room and shut the door tears began to well up in my eyes and I began to sob.

I cannot manage these feelings. I was feeling like everyone was waiting for me to do something bad. I felt as though the second I moved or talked or tried to participate I was going to do something intensely embarrassing or stupid.

I managed to go back to the party and sit on the garden wall, alone on the outside edge of the garden; an outsider looking in. I listened quietly to the band and tried to remain as innocuous, as invisible, as possible. I do not understand feeling like this given earlier in my life I loved parties, meeting new people, and experiencing new things.

My boyfriend came and sat next to me. He seemed to feel the social anxiety too. He invited me upstairs to the upper deck, away from the people, but still technically, at the party, albeit from a distance. I became so intensely relieved I began to cry again. He understood, and said he felt the same way.

He asked if I wanted to leave. I did not really want to, because I understand how I need to face these fears to get over them. I said as much. He told me he could not stay any longer and needed to get out of there as he was intensely anxious.

Secretly I was relieved he wanted to go. We came home and took my dog for a late night walk. Quietly, alone together on a warm spring night; only the darkness surrounding us...that was relaxing and fun.

Who AM I?

Today has been a strange day. I have felt my mood going all over the map, from feeling joyously happy, to grieving the loss of, and missing, my Mom (I felt her near me, and had reminders announcing themselves to me, all day today...it began to feel eerie and frightening...like I was having a premonition).

I was very anxious most of the day; so anxious I could not breathe properly most of the time. Even when I felt joyous, I was also feeling really, really agitated, or intensely filled with energy.

I felt paranoid I am being spied on numerous times today. I feel lonely; alone, uncared for. Some moments during the day I felt relief I have been feeling better. Some moments I felt the fear that tells me I am slipping into my old ways.

When I say I feel agitated/energetic it is hard to tell which it is. I feel compelled to move, to tap my fingers, to tap my fit, to move my toes, to squirm and fidget. There is some force inside me pushing me to constantly have some part of my body tapping out rhythms at a quick pace. Drumming, tapping, tapping, drumming, squirming, swaying, knees moving up and down...annoying, but I can't seem to stop. I feel wired in the mornings and early afternoon and tired in the late afternoon.

All day I was "obsessively" singing. I say obsessively because I couldn't stop. I kept having a song go through my head, and felt compelled to sing it, over and over and over and over and over...ad infinitum. "Willow weep for me, willow weep for me, bend your branches green into the stream and cover me, listen to my plea, listen O willow and weep for me." I kept singing those lines over and over all day. No matter that I wanted to stop, it was like I was stuck on repeat. This seems similar to when music was stuck in my head before when I first began Prozac.

Then I have a strange noises in my ear/s. It's hard to describe. sort of a crinkly, tinny, sharp sound that happens beats or clicks loudly for a few seconds then disappears. It is happening in my left ear, but I think I heard a similar sound in my other ear yesterday...but maybe I am mistaken and it was the same ear. Its really high pitched. Almost like a crickety sound. It scares me when it happens, because it seems like it might stay, or not go away.

Speaking of going away...I feel lonely, not because I am literally alone as my husband is away for the week. I feel lonely and alone because he's been gone since Saturday and he hasn't called me. I am not really one to talk too much on the phone, or even to expect my husband to call me, but for some reason his not calling makes me feel unimportant. When I go away for a week I usually call for a few minutes every few days, just to tell him I love him and am thinking of him. I think there is something about not having that kindness returned that is urksome. Is it too controlling of me to want a call from him when it's only a week?

Sad thing is I am actually glad he is away. The break is good for me. So not sure why I care if he calls. It is amazing how self sufficient I am when I'm by myself. Without him telling me I'm a loser all the time, without him pointing out all the mistakes I make and all the things I don't do well, without him trying to control my every move consciously, or unconsciously, without him trying to force me to do the things he wants done, I begin to feel I actually CAN do things, and AM good at things.

So...happy to sad, to grieving, to anxious and so agitated I can't stop moving, to angry and frustrated and lonely...to okay again. My mood is as labile and unpredictable as the weather in the city where I live. Who am I? What do I feel?

Is Public Privacy Possible?

Last session I managed to tell Dr. X. most of the things about my obsessive thoughts. It was extremely difficult, because he was the source and the subject of my thoughts. I was looking at my stats and saw that he had visited my blog a few times and looked and numerous sections (labels) in my blog. I became scared he would feel I was disrespectful to towards him in some of my posts.

Despite my earlier offer this year to let him read my blog, when he did I became scared I had disregarded that there are two of us involved in my therapy, and that I was too open about who I see him as, and how he and I interact. I was fearful that my blog crossed some boundary; that I exposed him more than I it was right for me to do. I could not stop worrying that I had destroyed our relationship.

He assured me I was always respectful; that that was part of my personality. I still feel unsure about whether I cross Dr./Patient boundaries in my blog posts. I feel my blog is immensely helpful to my mental health, but I also want to ensure I respect other people's privacy. I worry that he was just saying that to make me feel better. That is a problem for me, not trusting that people are saying exactly what they mean, that they are not placating me, rather than having an honest conversation with me.

I use my blog to augment my therapy with Dr. X. I have mentioned before that often it acts as a preparation tool. A sort of 'practice run' for the next therapy session I am going to (or sometimes that preparation takes place over and over, until I am able to say what I need to say). I also use my blog to debrief myself after a session.

I often wonder how much of my session I remember "correctly". I remember reading Irvin Yalom's "Every Day Gets a Little Closer: A Twice Told Therapy. In the book he recounts how he and a client wrote about each therapy session and then exchanged notes. In particular he was astounded by how different he and the patient saw the session. Things he felt were really important, the patient either ignored, or glanced over. Much of what the patient found helpful was the relationship between herself and her pdoc.

In my sessions I am often so emotional I cannot think straight. Writing reinforces things Dr. X and I discussed. There can sometimes be problems for me though, when I misread something in my session, or if my symptoms are bad and I am feeling 'paranoid'.

I place the word paranoid in quotations, because I am never sure if I am paranoid, or if what I sense, see, hear really happens. I really feel I have a gift/curse for picking up on small vocal cues and sounds, details, messages and body language that others miss, or do not recognize they are showing. My theory is that because my father was so unpredictable in his rage I learned to sense infinitesimally small cues and changes in his behaviour to prepare myself for the flight/fight/freeze response before things happened.

Something that might support this theory is when, in first year university, I volunteered for a study that was measuring the relationship between hearing and depression. I was extremely depressed at the time. They put me through a flurry of hearing tests and seemed to be astounded at what I could hear. They told me I could hear sounds in ranges that people were not supposed to be able to hear.

Anyways...back to Dr. X's privacy. I again want to assure my readers that I respect your privacy. Dr. X seemed surprised I knew he had visited. The only way I knew it was Dr. X. (or was pretty sure) it was him, (a particular person) was because of his particular server. It had shown up before when he looked at some of my paintings in a session.

You will notice I have two statistics sites,"Sitemeter" and "Statcounter". on my blog. One gives me information about numbers of visitors, where they come from (cities and countries, and how long they visit my site(these are not accurate and usually show as 0) . Sitemeter also tells me how people got to my blog, (e.g. what they googled to get here).

Statcounter provides a bit more information about which pages people viewed and things like that. In Sitemeter it supposedly shows the latitude and longitude of visitors, but please know that it is not accurate in terms of where people live. I was very concerned when I first signed up for it as it appeared anyone with Sitemeter could track the address of my IP.

Rest assured, I checked it out and that is not the case. For instance anyone who posts from Vancouver shows as living at one particular address, on the same street. I have tested this out with a couple friends, and even people I do not know who show up have the same Lat/Long...so it is NOT GPS co-ordinates. In fact, my Lat/Long shows I live in the middle of the Fraser River miles from my house.

I have these stats counters on my site because I am an info junky. I find it interesting to see people from all over the world vi sting, to see how many people visit, because I want to know if I am keeping people's interest, or posting about things that people are interested in. My blog is about my therapy, but I also want to make it relevant to others.

If you have any questions about your privacy and these two statistics programs, please ask me, or add them to your own site and see for yourself what they provide. I believe if you click on their icon (at the bottom right of my blog) you can read more info about them.

Confession

The Confession (Dicksee 1896)

I am not Catholic, but was brought up Anglican; which is close enough. The two churches' teachings are pretty similar except where it comes to divorce and birth control (and of course we have no Pope, the Queen is head of our church).

While I no longer practice my childhood religion I somehow feel deeply tied to the church and its rituals. It is very strange, because I do not even believe in God, but there is a peacefulness about walking into a church that is only rivalled when I step into Dr. X's office.

The other area the Anglican Church differs from the Catholic is the practice of confession. I have often wondered how freeing a regular, completely anonymous confession, the penance given afterwards, and the simple act of being told you are forgiven must be deeply satisfying and soul refreshing.

I suppose therapy is supposed to be like that, but there are always secrets and fears of what will happen if you open yourself up completely and 100% honestly to your therapist or psychiatrist. Fears about how the other will react, how their reaction will affect your relationship, how, even if there is no outward reaction, a seed of discontent, distrust, or even anger will be planted. The fear that some of those seeds will grow into plants, and the plants will give rise to more plants that negatively impact the therapeutic relationship.

I try extremely hard to allow myself to open up fully to Dr. X. in therapy. The day I met him I sensed immediately he was a person I could talk to. Which was strange as I had so many "man" issues I never really felt safe around men. I think I was extremely open with him during my first interview. Some people entice me to be open, but I am also a fairly open and participative person. A little too much so sometimes. By the time I met Dr. X. I had been in and out of therapy so many times that I understood I needed to let go of my fear of being judged and get everything out of my head in order to receive the help I needed.

There are things though, that I cannot seem to get out, cannot seem to say, to Dr. X, or on my blog, or to anyone. Probably important things, but shame, guilt and fear holds me back. I feel ashamed about things I do, or feel, and the words to explain these will simply not come out, no matter how hard I try to get them out. I think over and over that I should talk about these things, but it is as though I am physically mute, unable to speak about certain things I do or feel.

Often this fear of embarrassment, or abandonment, or punishment holds me back for months, or sometimes years, before I can finally tell him what I want to tell him. Every time I have done that he has reacted in an accepting and positive way. So why do I still find it hard to talk about some things?

I remember reading about this psychotherapeutic phenomenon in Irvin Yalom's, "Existential Psychotherapy". (A book that feels like it was written for me). He gave an example of a patient being terrified to talk about something, Eventually the patient managed to write it down on a piece of paper. When The Dr. read the note it said something like "I pick my nose". Hardly earth shattering, or shameful, yet to the patient, based both on his inability to say what he did, and the lengths to which he avoided saying what he did, it was both of these and more.

I believe my "secrets" are held private for a variety of reasons. One problem is some things I do or feel or sense seem so bizarre that I do not even understand why I do, feel or sense them. It is like someone completely different from the real me is rallying my thoughts and obsessively dragging me into doing things. I worry they will only be proof that I am a bad or extremely weird person. They are not even really earth shattering things, nothing illegal, but I am so afraid if I talk I will be rejected, or seen in a completely different light, no longer cared for, or thought to be crazier than I already am. I know I am being a bit cryptic, but I am trying to prepare myself to get things out of me and this is one small step towards really opening up completely.

Therapy is not like confession. It is not anonymous. The confessor knows their "confessee". The relationship is intensely important to the confessor. There is always a sense of potential instability or loss; a "contrived"genuineness (e.g. What therapist is going to say..."That is the absolute, most bizarre thing I have ever heard?...even if it was?); and an unsureness of the strength of the relationship, in part because while the therapist may love their job and like their patients, therapy is, after all, a financial transaction on the part of the therapist. The therapists are never (I don't think), or can never be as invested in therapy as the patient. The therapist has many patients, but the patient only one therapist.

For the patient there is more at risk in therapy than in confession. We, the patient and the therapist, are mere humans. Thetherapist can say everything is okay; that my thoughts and actions are normal, or symptomatic of my illness, but they may not really believe that to be the case. God, if he exists, is capable of forgiving anything. Pdocs and therapists are mere mortals. People whose feelings get hurt, who reflexively react to some information, who have fears and and joys and belief systems that may or may not conflict with their patients ideas. For me it is sometimes hardest to explain things to people who are most important to me.

Letting Go of the Past

In my session on Friday Dr. X. asked me what I was working on with my painting. Immediately, I felt intensely self conscious, fake, and that my art was trite and unworthy. I began to cry. I felt like a fraud with my art. I felt embarrassed by it, and by my ideas. Yet, while by myself painting, and when I look at my paintings alone, I feel an intense sense of accomplishment. I experience a sense that this is what I am supposed to be doing; the direction my life is meant to go in.

I think when I share something this valuable to me with Dr. X. I have a tendency to project my Dad onto him. Dr. X. instantaneously and magically BECOMES my father. I am unable to consciously recognize the person in front of me as the trustworthy, caring, interested and compassionate Dr. X. I cannot see him as the person who wants me to succeed. Dr. X. has left the building. My Dad is sitting in front of me.

I feel almost re-traumatized by the unconscious/subconscious fear that an extremely important person in my life will ridicule or dismiss my ideas. So when Dr. X asks me what I am doing with my art I become the child of an arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic tyrant. A Commander-in Chief who ordered me to listen. The all powerful authority figure who ridiculed, rejected and dismissed my ideas, my opinions and tried to slaughter my creative soul. The man who seemed almost obsessed with putting me in my place and proving he was right and I was wrong.

As a child I accepted he was right. It was me. I was wrong. I wasn't good, or smart, or good at anything. I was stupid, never paid attention and never listened. I believed this for so long that now, as an adult, I have forgotten how to be my own person without fearing I will make a mistake, or I won't be good enough, or I won't do well enough at anything I do, or I will embarrass myself, or my ideas really are stupid, or people will not like me. I will be rejected.

When I was a kid I wanted so badly to be involved with, and to please, my Dad. As a child I would wait , laying wide awake in bed; waiting to hear the late night news come on. I would sneak out and ask my Dad if I could watch it. We would sit on the couch together watching the news. This was the most important thing in the world to me. A sense of shared experience with my Dad. I would read the newspapers for the same reasons.

I did these things because I so desperately wanted to have something in common with my Dad. I wanted him to be proud of me, to be pleased with my seeking knowledge, to be able to talk with him about things. It never worked. If I tried to discuss something we watched together, or an article we both read it inevitably became an argument about why my perspectives were wrong and his were right.

I don't know why my Dad did this. I know he loved me, and I know he loves me, but he still does treats me and my ideas the same way. I love my Dad and I am trying really hard to let go of the past, but my past haunts me and slips unseen into so many areas of my life.

I forgive my Dad. I think he was probably treated that way by his parents. Also, being a policeman, and the "top down" military lifestyle life that type of job entails, would reinforce a sense of "authority" and "correctness" in anyone doing those kinds of jobs. He was a product of his environment. On top of that, there are no perfect manuals for being a good parent and the 60's and 70's child rearing mores were much different than today's. I can forgive, but my body and mind cannot forget.

I still react the same way to certain circumstances as I did when I was a child. I want to please all men, all authority figures, anyone who remotely has any control or authority over me no matter how tenuous the connection to their being an "authority figure" is. I am afraid of, and go out of my way to reconcile my opinions with, anyone who disagrees with me or anyone who has the potential to hurt me. I react with fear, terror, anxiety, and sometimes panic when someone, anyone, invades my personal space, or physically intimidates me or threatens me.

Obviously, given how I sometimes project my Dad onto my kind pdoc, I often react this way in situations that do not warrant such a reaction. This is when the therapeutic moments between myself and Dr. X are the most powerful. When the Dr. X, and a I are involved in a discussion or situation in my appointment that causes me to have such a severe reaction, I need to, and/or he needs to help me, recognize that these are the times to take note and to back up, examine my reaction and start again.

As he asked me about my art and I began to cry, I expressed how I was afraid my art was trite and unworthy. He spoke up and asked me to examine what I had said. As I sat there crying and feeling ashamed I was suddenly reminded of who was sitting in front of me. I remembered he is supportive, not dismissive. He is nurturing and interested in what I am doing, not judgemental. Almost instantaneously I began sharing my new ideas. I heard the excitement in my voice. I felt the joy of sharing something I cared about with someone who wanted to know. I felt one tiny step closer to letting go of my past and learning to be proud of my future.

Preparing for my Therapy Session Tomorrow

So many feelings, thoughts, worries, constant ruminations have rapidly passed through me this week that I think I need to write out what I want to say so I have some understandable piece of information to share with my pdoc tomorrow. Also, I don't know why, but I feel it is not my place to ask Dr. X. to reveal some of these things...so maybe I can do it on paper.

Throughout the week I've been writing my ruminations out as they happen, They are coming at me rapidly and feel intrusive, as opposed to my consciously trying to think about them. I wake and the flood of thoughts starts. Often I can't remember what it was I was thinking by the time I get to my session, or something there distracts me from what I wanted to ask/say...so I'm going to try to consolidate some of these:

1) Something simple Dr. X. said in my last session triggered massive stress about going to the hospital. Although, when he said it, I felt he was being thorough and I was really being cared for.

I'll paraphrase: He said, the hospital might be a good place for me to be observed by others in case he has missed something. Panic and distrust set in a couple days later.

I started wondering what Dr. H. said about me 2 yrs ago, (he was the Pdoc who interviewed me for ECT and my stay at the hospital), then I worried about what Dr. R. (Pdoc at a couple outpatient programs I attended) said about me, then I started worrying I would get a Pdoc in the hospital who was not my advocate, like I feel Dr. X. has been, then I started to worry about being diagnosed with a personality disorder, or some other uninsurable illness, or worse they would miss my depression altogether and I would feel like a fraud, because my mood is so bizarre, labile and reactive to things around me, then I started to worry about my insurance company seeing this as a good opportunity to cut me off, then I started worrying about ending up without enough income to take care of myself....and it just kept getting worse from there.

What did these Dr.s' say about my depression? Did they send Dr.X. a report? If so, can I know what was in them?

2) I am afraid if I go into the hospital the same thing as last time will happen and it will misrepresent my depression and how bad I usually feel. This is what happened last time I went in for ECT.

My mood lifted almost immediately, long before ECT could explain it. Placebo effect? I'm not depressed? Something else is going on? Who knows why?.. .although I wonder who can tell if it was ECT that affected my mood during the latter part of my stay after receiving the requisite # that usually affect people's mood. Also, when I review my mood diary my mood did stay up for a few weeks after ECT.

What if I get some dogmatic, or unknowledgeable Pdoc and they really do miss that I really am depressed. I get so much feedback that I don't seem like I am depressed on the outside. This I can't even understand myself. Even the Occupational Therapists who see me at the studio keep saying more than once or twice that "[I am] so high functioning when I am in class teaching, or involved in other group projects, that it is hard to see [I am] unwell"...except that I've been breaking down in tears most of the time I meet privately with them...so I feel confused by their comments.

My mood swings feel out of my control. The only thing I can liken them to is a, seemingly, inactive volcano. It sits and looks innocuous, like a beautifully functioning mountain. It seems safe and normal for a period of time. All the villagers living at the base of the volcano think everything is fine and then suddenly boom. The thing explodes and like the lava my internal depression comes flowing out, much to the surprise of those around me. (other than the people who really know me...they KNOW the lava is always at the surface). How the hell can I switch on and off like I do and this be an illness and not something I am in control of?

Also, I know that if I went into the hospital and my depression was dismissed as not real I would be even more confused and depressed than I feel now. I have struggled, (unsuccessfully I might add), for so long to accept, what Dr. X. tells me...and I trust him. What about someone I do not trust?

What happens if all that falls apart and I have to start again believing or accepting some other diagnosis? The majority of me still believes all this is my fault, that it is my own self that continues to make me sick.

3) I am becoming increasingly paranoid:

(but if I really am paranoid...how is it that I have some insight into the idea that some of my thoughts might not be real? So I feel here, like with my depression, my symptoms are inconsistent with the idea of feeling paranoid or depressed)

• That the Clubhouse staff thinks I am not fit for teaching the next session due to all the breakdowns I keep having in their offices and when talking with other members I trust.
  
• At the same time I feel they see my reactive "functioning" mood as a sign that I'm in need of no help. (I know...another contradiction). The constant reminder by the OT's that my "high functioning" is in direct conflict with my diagnosis is stressing me out beyond belief. I feel like I'm fake, or my depression is a delusion, or something else...I don't understand what.(I hate the terms high/low functioning, but don't know how else to say what they are referring to)
  
• That my sister's, my step mom and husband are colluding against me...I have overheard them talking about me on the phone and my husband has told me they talk about my treatment making me worse.
• I have a lot of internal conflict about whether therapy is good for me too. I have never felt cared for like I do in my sessions and maybe that is unhealthy? Maybe I stay sick because I have no other source that cares in the same way and I am afraid of losing that support? I often wonder if I were to have no reminders I was unwell...no Pdoc, no medicine, no mental health community (i.e. Art Studios, my friends, etc)...if I would just magically get well.
  

4) I feel like my mood is cycling so fast right now:
As of tonight I will be off my last medication. I don't think my mood cycling is related to that though....I think it's related to my above worries. I'm up for class, feel more energy at the start of the day, get anxious, or irritated, agitated, or enraged and depressed, as the day goes on...sometimes within an hour or so of feeling a different way/sometimes all at the same time. My sleep is very interrupted. I wake up and all the above thoughts go over and over in my brain. I feel better in the early morning (more awake)....but worse as the day progresses and exhausted by 1 or 2 still. I am having difficulty concentrating and making tons of mistakes everywhere; at home, with my art and my driving is scary because I seem to disappear and can’t focus.

• Eg.: On Friday I went into the clubhouse to do my own art (no teaching that day). When I went in I felt so irritable...on the verge of rage, but I forced myself to go thinking I would feel better if I could get distracted by my art. While there I was asked by one of the OT's when I would be available to volunteer after the Aug 6-17th break (they're closing for 2 weeks). I just broke down crying. I feel so confused about how I am feeling. On Thursday at a meeting I felt like I was going to blow up inside.

The feeling like I'm in crisis, but no one is noticing. I have explained to them that I may go into the hospital. I want to be fair to them so they can make up the schedule and decide if I am allowed to help teach drawing classes and be a Mentor for others in September or not. I don't understand what they want me to say when I don't even know if I will be in the hospital or not.

I am confused about Dr. X.'s suggestions of a hospital stay. I have no idea if he is serious or if it's just an idea, and if he is, when it would happen....so I don't know what I can/cannot commit to. (ask him for clarification and a more definitive plan) Also, his bringing up the bipolar/ECT study and cognitive problems makes me wonder if ECT is a good idea. Is that what he was saying? I know I don't have bipolar, but Dr. X. has said I have a "bipolarity" to my depression. Does it concern him I may lose some more cognitive abilities if I have ECT?

So, to conclude: I feel like I appear "normal" on the outside to most people, and explosive, depressed, suicidal, irritated, can't think straight, on the inside and every once in a while that volcano of emotions allows itself to come to the surface.

The explosions usually happen: a) when I'm on my own, b) when I'm talking with someone I feel safe opening up to. c) When I feel really misunderstood and/or the severity and impact on my life my depression has had on me is dismissed or misunderstood. Although I feel like I cannot control when they explode to the surface I must be able to to some degree, otherwise how am I seemingly okay one minute and not the next?

I was thinking last night how some people believe in God - something else being in control of their destiny. It is like I cannot accept I have a mental illness and that I have little control over some aspects of how I feel or act. I feel like it is my personal responsibility to make myself feel better and I am failing miserably. When I go high....I can see it is like a light switch gets turned on and I did nothing to affect my high mood, but when I am low, I feel like I did, or am doing, it to myself.

God, I need a shut off switch on my brain.

Paranoia

Just now I started thinking about the whole scenario I just wrote about yesterday. What are the chances that a person I am a volunteer with at the studio would have the exact same thing happen to them at the exact time when I need to do exactly what they were able to do, i.e. stand up and say my symptoms are making me too ill to continue the commitment I made.

Then I started thinking maybe the whole thing was a set-up. (...because of course the world rotates around me....not!). I live in a pretty large city. At the studio there are about 400 members, approximately 20 of whom come in fairly frequently, like my co-worker and I, and some who come in very rarely if ever.

What are the chances one of those people would volunteer to do the exact same position as me and then have such similar circumstances, but be able to follow through on their commitment to themselves, while I tread water and try to save myself from drowning. I suggest highly unlikely and improbable.

I'm feeling paranoid again. (Can you be paranoid if you you think you might be paranoid???) I'm unsure about that one??? I think I'm feeling spied on again. Like the person was checking me out on behalf of my pdoc. I have to say, given what my pdoc is like, this does sound strange as I'm writing it and even highly unlikely.

I always feel like no one gets how I can be so depressed, yet become the person other's need me to be in the moment. For example, I am amiable, conscientious, caring, seemingly energetic during my classes...then I crash the second I leave the situation. Everyone, except those close to me, says I don't act or seem depressed. I think I worry my pdoc doesn't believe how much I am suffering. I am scared I am going to slip through the cracks and end up with no psychiatric help, still severely depressed, no job and no way to be able to take care of myself.

Prepare To Be Cut Off

I went into my session today feeling really good, despite not having slept more than a couple hours last night and not much the past week or so. I was awake all night last night with all this creative energy surging through me. I have been taking Art classes and I feel really good about this still life I just drew. I also started volunteering and had a really good time my first shift. It felt good to be useful.

Then I do not know what happened, but all sorts of negative thoughts started to creep into my session. Suddenly we were talking about my fears of being spied on by the insurance company and then Dr. X. said "Prepare to be cut off. When you are well it will be an inevitability"

Now I feel extremely stressed out. I know I will be cut off insurance if I become well, and I do not want to let my fear of being cutoff stop me from becoming well. However, my biggest fear is that I will become well for a while and then leave my job and get cut off insurance and then relapse into depression again and be both depressed and unable to take care of myself financially.

After my session today I came home and started worrying that Dr. X. is not going to give me enough time feeling well to be sure I am well enough to begin looking for work again and will be able to remain well in the long term. Argh! I hate my brain.