Electroconvulsive therapy


My mom wants me to consider Electroconvulsive Therapy.

yuck jack sparrow pirates

 

I’m extremely suicidal, but some things are better. I have a job; I’m working with mentally ill kids (irony!!). I’m still isolating myself from everyone. Most conversations with my mom involve screaming and crying. Some depression symptoms have gotten worse. I’ve had a flat affect lately.

*sigh* At least, I’m posting something

Advertisements

Clearly, it isn’t Monday


dean supernatural laughs then gets serious

Oops. As usual…failure on my part.

I’m actually feeling up to writing a little bit, yay! There are some long stories involved, but for now, I’m just going to run down the litany of changes in my life over the past 2-ish months.

1. Took a medical leave from law school because passing was impossible with how far behind I was and I really don’t know what I want to do…

2. Looking for a full-time psychology job to try to determine if that is what I want to pursue. Since I only have a Bachelor’s degree, my job options are limited to Mental Health Technician (glorified baby-sitter) or entry level research tech. I’ve applied for about 10 of those positions around town. I’ve had 2 interviews, but no job offers.

3. I broke up with the Doc. Honestly, of all the people I’ve dated or even had a crush on, I liked him the best. I clicked with him on a different level. I’m not sure how to describe it. I broke it off because he couldn’t accept my limits. For example, he didn’t want to use safe words.

4. I’ve had lots of suicidal ideation and I’m still struggling with basic things on most days, but despite threats, no hospital yet.

5. My family is disappointed and angry because I’m ruining my life, I want to fail, I can do so much better, I’m just a personality-disordered mess, etc.

6. I’m still giving dating a shot. Since breaking it off with the Doc, I’ve had 2 dates. I skipped one (with a plausible lie because I was freaking out too much). They were with different men. The one I didn’t skip was fine. (Given #4, I find even 1 date is miraculous)

7. I’m making a concerted effort to rekindle friendships and familial relationships that I’ve damaged through isolating

8. I told my mom about IT and… her reaction was surprising and I wish I hadn’t told her. She wasn’t angry and she didn’t blame me, but she won’t let it go.

 

Enhanced by Zemanta

You Already Have Too Many Labels


I broached the topic of Avoidant and Dependent personality disorders with my psychiatrist and he agreed with me! In fact on some of the criteria I said I wasn’t sure whether they fit, he laughed and gave examples! dean supernatural facepalm

So, then I asked him why he never told me. He said some people are simple and they only have a personality disorder (or 2) and in that case he would diagnose them with a personality disorder. However, when there are multiple issues that need to be addressed, such as my eating disorder and depression, he diagnoses people with them because insurance doesn’t pay for personality disorder treatment. Plus, there is a lot of stigma around personality disorders, worse than other mental illnesses. So, it is better not to have it in my medical charts. I didn’t ask him about depressive or masochistic personality disorders because the DSM no longer uses them as diagnoses.

Also, I brought it up with my mom because psychoanalysis is not exactly the standard treatment for personality disorders. She didn’t care about it, but suggested I could bring up seeing a CBT therapist on the side. The interesting thing is she thinks my dad is avoidant. So, maybe it is genetic or learned. However, she also pointed out that I was gregarious until I was 4 years old and then something changed. She said anxiety dampens my personality, which makes her sad. She also said she knew the ability to be confident and outgoing was inside me, I just lost it somehow and became scared of people.

Let Me Rescind that Invitation!!


I suggested to someone that we go get coffee. What the hell?! I never initiate. I suddenly feel 100x more stupid, fat, ugly, lazy, and bad than I usually feel.paralyzed by feelings

 

It will be obvious that…  verge of nervous breakdown What did I do?! Ugh, no one should like me!

I’m afraid he is going to think: worst-person-april

 

On the off-chance he does like me a meaningful relationship requires me to let go of my eating disorder, talking about feelings in real life, and not isolate myself.nightmare

 

On one hand, I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship. On the other hand, if I never try, I’ll never get better at talking about feelings and leaving the house.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Oops, Wrong Medication Dosage


Fun fact: The mood stabilizer I’ve been taking for the past 7 years, which I started after my last suicide attempt, has been at the wrong dose for almost a year. I’m supposed to take 200 mg; I’ve had 100 mg since April 2013.      loki_facepalm_by_foxedpeople-d56xo5a

 

Theoretically, mood stabilizers decrease the number of depressive or manic episodes and make the lows less low and the highs less high. The psych ward doctor put me on it after diagnosing me with bipolar type 2. No one else has ever agreed with the diagnosis, but no one changed the medication either. I have no idea how this happened. I didn’t notice the change because I think I figured it was the generic version of the medication. I didn’t even think to make sure it was the same dose! My doctor only figured it out because the pharmacy called him to authorize a refill and he said he was refilling 200 mg of the  medication. The pharmacist said, “She isn’t taking 200 mg. She has been on 100 mg since April.” My doctor thinks this is a contributing factor to my state in the past few months. Unfortunately it takes 5 months to reach its full effectiveness. Nonetheless, the 24 hour window of 70% tuition refund has passed. I decided to fight and stay in school.

 

Enhanced by Zemanta

To Die or Not to Die


**TRIGGER WARNING SUICIDAL IDEATION**

That is the question. I would have killed myself last night, except if I attempt suicide again, I need to be 100% sure I won’t wake up in the hospital again and that is tough to ensure with the methods available to me on an impulse.

I talked to my mom about whether or not to quit law school. Before the conversation I was fine, during and after the conversation I was suicidal. I was not suicidal because of law school. This has never been about law school. In the end, it is about me. The urges began when Mom admitted something to me… She is frustrated and she has been frustrated for years because she is sick and tired of the crises I manufacture for myself and my enumerated character flaws. She said she was sick of me all four years of undergrad and she almost didn’t want me to go to graduate school because I’m too emotionally weak. She is tired of mental illness and seeing me shoot myself in the foot. The facts don’t bother me. I know I am weak. I know I forge the shackles that hobble me with my own mind. I know the only thing holding me back is me. I know I have plenty of character flaws. I know I sabotage my own success. Her words hurt because she is the main reason I abjure suicide. I stay because I know what my suicide would do to her. There are other reasons like the rest of my family and friends and a lingering fear of hell. However, I believe everyone else would get over it with time. I am afraid of hell for suicide or for any of the innumerable ways I fall short as a human being, but sometimes I think I deserve hell. Furthermore, a large chunk of me thinks there is no hell or God wouldn’t damn me specifically for suicide. My mom is the only person I am certain would not recover from my suicide. Everyone else would move on.

So, when she said she was frustrated and sick of me and my problems…My first thought was that I could easily remove the source of her anger. The past two times I did not write suicide notes. This time I would. In essence, I’m doing it for them, for everyone. There maybe sadness and anger, but there won’t be any more fear, worry, frustration, disappointment, sadness, or anger. That will be the end of my story. She won’t have to worry about whether I’m eating or sleeping or going to class. She can do whatever she wants because she won’t have to worry about me being alone when I’m struggling. If I finish what I started 11 years ago, everyone else will have a better life with me gone. All I do is cause hurt and chaos. Ah hell, GOD started it 23 years ago. Everyone knows I shouldn’t have survived. I contribute nothing positive, or at least not nearly enough positive things to outweigh all the negatives.

My existence only causes heartache. Could I change that? Theoretically, but as my mom said last night, what makes me think I will change? I can say I’ll do better all I want, but so far, I just keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Therefore, I have no logical reason to believe I will be a better person in the future. I always say I’ll do better, I’ll be better, and I’ll try harder. But I am never enough and I never will be. There is no point in prolonging their suffering.

Ironically, I don’t want to die.

Buffy_I don't want to die that is something right

Yet, I am an unwelcome burden on the people I love and I cannot abide by that. I say unwelcome because while I would feel guilty if I had ALS and my family members cared for me as my health declined, I would not be suicidal if they wanted me around, while I could still draw breath.       Buffy_Dawn rejection so obvious you don't want me around

But no one does, not really. Sure people would say flowery words, claiming they miss me, but actions speak louder than words. As I said, I admit there would be initial grief and I regret that, but everyone (except perhaps Mom) has their own, separate, vibrant, full life. Taking me out of the equation will not hinder them in the long run. They don’t need me now; so, postmortem platitudes are just that…Empty words. They’ll go back to school, work, family, loved ones, and heal. As I live, all I do is compound the pain. If I die, it would hurt them for a while, but that would be the end of their burden.

I would need to somehow assuage guilt. That is the toughest part. I am capable of killing myself (provided I am uninterrupted) for sure. The worst possible outcome would be interruption and brain damage. I can make sure I am uninterrupted though. Teenage me didn’t think about the interruption part. I expected I’d fall asleep and no one would notice until it was too late. Apparently, I stayed conscious and obviously drugged. No more mistakes. I am certain grief will heal and they’ll experience less pain overall. I have no dependents to worry about. The afterlife will be whatever it is… The only remaining problem is I know suicide makes people feel guilty and guilt can be tougher to overcome than grief. It can tear people apart and I don’t want that.

I know everything in my life, including my death, should I chose it, is my fault and if they could see it rationally they would understand they couldn’t make a difference. However, I of all people, know emotions are not rational. The only way to solve the problem is writing very thorough notes or deciding the risk of guilt is less than the continued pain caused by my presence.

Speaking of my presence, I said I didn’t want to die, but I can’t just disappear to remove my influence because then they will always wonder what happened to me. I imagine that gnawing hole would be worse than my annoyance. A dead body puts that question to rest.

This is all awful because I don’t actually want to die. As much as my loved ones try to understand, they blame me for my shortcomings.

Buffy_dou think I chose to be like this

Last night I paraphrased the above GIF saying, “Do you think I chose to be like this? Do you think I do this on purpose? Do you think I want to make the same mistakes over and over again? Do you think I want to be miserable?!?” She sort of understood what I was saying, but correctly dismissed it. They rightfully blame me. After all, I do make excuses. As my Mom said last night, my failures aren’t from some magical mental illness I can’t control; I let myself be weak and I dodge blame saying I can’t help it. That isn’t true. I can help it, but I won’t. There is something wrong with me because I don’t have the willpower to do things for myself. I’m motivated by pleasing others. I will go through hell for other people, but getting out of bed in the morning for my own gratification feels impossible. I am capable of it, but unless someone else has the expectation that I get out of bed and they’ll know if I don’t get out of bed, and I care about them, I will stay in bed all day.

Buffy_it's hard it's painful and it's everyday

I tried to tell her that while technically I made choices, which led to outcomes I disliked, and technically I have the ability to make different choices, things are not so black and white. Buffy_not that simple

Why would anyone chose this? They would not!! At the same time… she is right. The simple truth is: I am too weak. I could / would / should do a lot…but I’m too weak emotionally.

Buffy_no control just pain

It feels like internal chaos. In reality, I hold the reigns; I can do better. I am simply not strong enough.

Buffy_sleepwalk through life

She said there is no point in doing the bare minimum again and barely passing. It is a waste of time, effort, anguish, and money. That is so true. Nonetheless, part of me holds out hope that I can finish the semester and give new classes a chance. She is correct. I’m foolish. As always, I’m telling myself what I want to hear, but doing nothing to create change.
Buffy_too much for me want it to be over

*breathes deeply* I cried while typing this, big surprise… *sigh* For now I’m trying to persevere. Buffy_moment by moment

But then I think… I’m just kidding myself. I am nothing. I am no one. I am a moment in eternity. I am a red dwarf in a sky full of blazing suns. I could better myself, but I don’t have the energy, the willpower. At least if I died in the next 24 hours, my mom would get 70% of this semester’s tuition back.

I can’t withdraw because that admits defeat and stagnation. Also, as I already said, as boring as I find the material, this all comes down to me and nothing about my circumstances. Plus, quitting dooms me to a lifetime of worrying other people. So, I stay and pass or I kill myself. Doing it sooner rather than later means my family gets some money. So, am I reducing the value of my life to about $9,500? I guess so. That seems callous, but I believe it is worth less than that.

*laughs bitterly* Now I am frustrated! I still don’t want to die. There are places I want to see and things I want to experience, but they come at the cost of other people’s happiness. I feel sad; my heart is heavy.

I won’t kill myself, unless on impulse because some small part of me knows even though I can’t fathom it at the moment, my suicide would hurt the people I care about more than I can imagine.

Here is to spending the next 2 hours reading for a class I think I may have already failed because I missed too much class. I may have miscalculated the number of allowed absences because I forgot to take the credit hour change into account. Although my classes are all the same as last semester, their respective number of hours changed this semester and the maximum allowed absences is a function of how many hours a class is worth.

I guess in the interim, I’ll make do with imagining violence happening to me. (…which is why I fear masochism is an outlet of self-loathing…but then it is the only way I am aroused…but then this is clearly related…Ugh, FAIL…)

Dean_Supernatural_stabbing you in my mind

Related articles

Enhanced by Zemanta

Another TED talk: Depression Stigma


He has a great point! He is absolutely right; the only way to destroy the stigma is talking openly about it.

 

However, I’m not ready to let the world know about my depression.

GoT_father told the truth

Yes, Sansa, he was an honest man and look what happened to him!

OK, that was ironic considering this is a blog, but the only people who know me IRL and have any idea this blog exists are people who already know most of this and I trust to accept me with the other stuff (I.e. masochism, bisexuality).