I have broken a 13 year-old Christmas tradition in my household. The decision to travel a different path this year was gut wrenching, anxiety provoking, and I even felt a little guilty wondering if my kids would hate me for the rest of their lives.
I decided to buy cookies instead of bake them.
I know.
Every year except this one, I slave away in the kitchen on Christmas Eve baking dozens upon dozens of cookies. Thumbprints, chocolate chip, pecan sandies, peanut butter, sugar cutouts, rum balls, coconut macaroons, cherry bars, pecan bars, and whatever the hell else has caught my attention in my many cookbooks stacked a mile high in the dining room. And though I have to brag about my skills as a baker, (I'm really good), this entire day in the kitchen standing in front of a hot ass oven, covered in flour, washing dishes as I go---while Greg and the kids sit around playing PS3 and/or napping----can be stressful and oftentimes irritating. After being on my feet for 12 hours in front of a hot oven smelling nothing but sugar and butter, all I want to do at the end of the day is sit on the sofa and pout, because no amount of "thanks mom!" is suffice.
On Christmas Day, I spend most of the day cooking a huge fancy dinner of honey glazed ham, au gratin potatoes, blueberry bread, and whatever the hell else the family has requested. I set the table with my fine china and crystal, and we eat this glorious meal together.
All of this baking and cooking is done following weeks of shopping, wrapping, shipping, decorating, crocheting as well as my everyday tasks like budgeting, housework, raising kids, schoolwork, etc.
You get the point.
Basically, my holiday is spent working my ass off because that's what I'm supposed to do. Traditional "good woman" behavior (remember my blog the other day?).
But yesterday, as Greg and I were on the way to Walmart to shop for last minute baking supplies, I had an epiphany in the parking lot. It was pouring ice and sleet, the wind was cutting into my face, and I felt absolutely miserable and overwhelmed by all that was left to do.
So I stopped in the middle of the road, looked at Greg, and said,
"Fuck it. I don't feel like baking this year."
Expecting to be regarded as a woman gone insane, Greg said, "Cool. Let's just keep it simple then."
And that was that.
No biggie.
Instead of cookies, ham and the fine china, I will be throwing a batch of nachos in the oven, a veggie tray, and a bunch of chips and pretzels. We'll drink Pepsi. We'll eat store bought cookies.
On paper plates.
Paper plates. I know!
By the time we got home, I realized I was free. All the shopping was done. Gifts made. Shipping on the way. We have no money, but what's new? The house is a mess, but seriously, I'm too tired to care. And now no baking to weigh down my holiday.
I was free!
So I left the kids with Greg, hopped in the truck and drove myself to the craft store where I spent the entire evening browsing around and daydreaming about all of the new projects I would like to start. I had such a clear head that I wound up picking up a reaaaaalllllly neat gift for Bailey (hopefully she'll hate it and just give it to me) which is a plastic case full of gorgeous beads, jewelry pieces, wire and cutters to make jewelry. I even noticed that Homespun yarn was on sale for 3.99 a skein---so I bought enough to make myself a prayer shawl as a birthday gift.
Lisa, I'm gonna try. I may be emailing you for help.
I bought some beautiful mint green Simply Soft yarn for an afghan as well.
By the time I had finished shopping, my head was spinning with creative ideas and project plans. It was glorious....giving myself the gift of time. Time to do what is important. Time to do whatever it is that feels right for me. Without all the pressures of things I think I have to do, I had time to do things I want to do.
So I drove home the long way, carefully considering the amount of ice falling from the sky, and looked at all of the houses and businesses adorned with lights, and how the ice on the tree branches made them sparkle. Everything here is white---my first white christmas---and for the first time since I've been here I realized how absolutely gorgeous it is.
By the time I got home, it was late. My kids asked me when I planned to start baking, and I reluctantly told them I had a different plan for this year----party foods and paper plates. They both cheered and celebrated not having to wash dishes this year; and went on to play PS3 like nothing in the world was wrong.
Because nothing was wrong. There is nothing wrong with keeping it simple. There is nothing wrong with me if I don't feel like slaving away. The only thing wrong is that I ever thought I had to do all that stuff to begin with.
I can do anything I want to do, as long as it feels right for me. Though this may seem obvious to someone else, it huge for me:
I get to write my own rules.
My life is my choice.
So this Christmas Eve morning (it's noon, now, I think), I am still in my pajamas and sipping coffee. The house is a disaster and the oven is off. Instead we have donuts and milk; and for lunch we might throw together some submarine sandwiches---I don't know. Dosen't matter. The kids have hugged me all morning and told me how much they love me. Greg called me from work and told me to save him some nachos 'cause he'll be home late. An afghan from a friend is around my shoulders, reminding me of what's really important. I have four crochet projects ready to start; all of which I am so excited about. Tonight I will light my candles and spend some time being quiet, reflecting on this gift that I have given myself:
This gift of freedom. To allow myself to do what feels best for me. To make my own choices.
And not what I think I should do as a result of fear instilled in me so long ago when I was a child.
So hold up your eggnog, your Pepsi or whatever it is you're drinking; and toast with me:
Cheers to being whatever and whomever it is that you want to be....to whatever feels right. Those who truly love you will appreciate how much happier you are.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
My weekly session with Pam was not a pleasant one. For one, Greg and I were supposed to meet with her together, but he missed the appointment due to what he says, "time slipping by" him. His recruits are entering the final week of boot camp, and there is much to be done in preparation for their upcoming graduation. While I understand the whole "work is crazy" thing, I have been feeling lately like those recruits are more important to him than his own family. He didn't even call to say he would not be able to make the appointment!
I think he literally forgot about it and just dosen't want to admit it; which drives home the point that those damn recruits are taking first place in his life over me.
Have I ever mentioned that I am a jealous bitch?
After royally chewing him out over the phone and hanging up on him, he came home late last night with a dozen roses in his hand accompanied by a heartfelt declaration of how sorry he was. "I really fucked up, and I promise I will be there during your next appointment".
How can I be mad at a teary eyed guy in uniform, flowers in hand, and basically offering to do anything I wish him to do?
Anyway, Pam and I wound up having a typical session just the two of us. Obviously I told her how upset I was that Greg hadn't arrived, as well as how depressed and anxious I have been feeling this week for reasons I cannot talk about---because I don't know what they are. Apparently I was speaking frantically, because she told me to close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and talk about the very first thing that popped in my mind.
"I am not important to anyone anymore", I said.
So we talked about those feelings. My 35th birthday is just two days away. My children are demonstrating their independance and strong sense of self more and more everyday, which are clues that they don't need me in the ways they used to. Instead of sitting and cuddling with me, they are on the phone, writing letters to their friends, closing the doors to their bedrooms because they need privacy, amongst all sorts of little clues that they do not need (or want) "mommy" up their asses 24/7. It used to be that the three of us were so close and so attached---we did everything together! Now, I cannot even coax them to help me pick up the living room and load the dishwasher without them complaining that they have "other" things to do. So not only are they most positively showing signs of teenagehood, but they are not helping me around the house, which leaves feeling lonely and overwhelmed with work, work, and more work.
And while Greg and I share a love that cannot be broken, the dynamics of our relationship have shifted. I was very young when we married....just 19, and a new sailor in the Navy. My eyes were wide open and excited, like a kid in a candy store, at the prospect of the world being as big as it was. Everything was new and uncharted. Since I had come from such an abusive upbringing, the world looked a lot bigger and shinier because I had been so neglected and unloved all of my formative years. Greg was a bit older than I--24 years old---and he had much more experience than I. He too had come from a broken home--the son of an alcoholic father and a narcissistic mother---but dealt with that pain in much different ways that I did my own. While I was excited and naive about the world and the prospect of making my own tracks in it, Greg was more cool and relaxed and willing to "take things as they come". I wanted to conquer everything; and he wanted to sit back and watch me do it.
It was a perfect joining of souls.
We remained like that for years. I was the go-getter in all things. The caretaker. The goal setter. The organizer. The voice of reason, encouragement, support and strength. I set the tone. And Greg, with his cool as a cucumber disposition, happily sat back and said, "of course you can do it!" whenever I needed a boost in my quest to rule the world. He never stood in my way, and he never expressed one ill word toward my aggressive approach towards adulthood. On the flip side, I refused to criticize or critique his belief that remaining on the sidelines of life was the best way for him to maintain himself.
But then things changed. He decided that he wanted to leave our cozy little bubble of predictable existance and go to war in Iraq. Without me. Without my consent. Without my blessing. Without my input at all. All of a sudden, right before my eyes, Greg became a man who wanted to be a part of something bigger than what he and I had created within our family and home. Perhaps my mistake was loving and accepting him too much; because I didn't say a word. I didn't ask him not to do it. I didn't tell him how scared I was, or how much I needed him to maintain the sense of saftey we had so carefully crafted together for so many years. By the time I realized these things, it was too late. He was already gone.
Back then, I thought my fear of him leaving was for obvious reasons: that he would die in combat. Of course I was afraid of that; but only recently have I discovered what my other (and more powerful but covert) sources of fear were. I was afraid of him leaving me alone to conquer the world by myself. Without him, I did not know who I was standing alone. Without him there to tell me it was okay, that I was okay, I did not believe that I was at all "okay". The truth is, I never really learned that I was "okay" at all. I needed Greg to do it for me.
As sick as this sounds, in many ways, Greg had played the role of the father I never had. And when he decided to go to war, to do something without me, I felt betrayed and abandoned in the exact same way I felt when my biological father dropped me on a doorstep, never to be heard again. My father destroyed my sense of saftey, and any feeling that I had of being a worthy lovable person.
My crime was that I had held Greg in this same position. And when he left, I felt those old wounds all over again, like they had been split open.
And even though it has been years since his return from war, life hasn't been the same. I love my husband, but he came home a changed man. He is highly decorated for his efforts in the war, and his career took off like a skyrocket since then. As the provider for the family, he is desperately trying to advance in paygrade before retirement, and meet the additional criteria requested of him to deserve that paygrade. In order to do this, he spends a lot of time at work----and a lot less time with me, which leaves me to my own devices.
Greg found a life outside of our relationship. He grew up.
I, however, did not. I have remained stuck in the my need for a father (and mother, presumably) figure who revolves around taking care of and encouraging me in anything I wish to do. I have remained stuck in my need to be around Greg all of the time to feel good about myself.
And I am grieving the loss of what we had.....even though it wasn't very healthy to begin with.
So as I approach the age of 35, the growing of my children and their need for independance outside of me, and the sense of self that my husband has developed as he continues to evolve as a person---I have painfully realized these past couple of years that I have not grown.
Because without someone else to love and shape and mold....without someone to live through....I really have no clue who I am outside of these people who have been such a wonderful distraction to a very basic question:
Who am I?
The most simple and obvious solution to my problems of lonliness and abandonment issues is to go out there and find myself a life. Participate in things I enjoy. Think about myself first. Set personal goals. Make more friends. Socialize more. Etc. Etc.
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this from people: "Stacy it's time you start thinking about yourself! Get a job. Take a class. Start a career. Volunteer."
It goes on and on and on.
And at risk for sounding whiny, my response to this superficial feedback from these people is:
I don't know how.
And...
I'm terrified to figure out how.
Obviously this comes up in therapy, and it came up yesterday. Pam made an observation about me that I have never heard before, and it has me quite uneasy. In fact, I am taking my panic medication to cope today.
Any therapist or psychiatrist that I have ever seen--and there have been several---have always told me that I have some kind of "mood disorder" of varying degrees. When we talk about mood disorders, it is not a simple case of being "moody" in the context that a woman might claim she undergoes during menstruation. A mood disorder is a constant state of shifting mood and perception. For example: a person who has bipolar illness may experience weeks or months literally feeling on top of the world, and display behavior indicating that he/she is invincible. They feel soooo good they have little need for sleep, talk a mile and minute, make grandiose and often risky career moves, and sometimes partake in dangerous behavior such as chemical/substance abuse, spending sprees, unsafe sex, etc. Sometimes this "manic state", if left untreated, will result in psychosis.
But then, for no apparent reason, the person will "crash" into a debilitating depression. And I'm not talking about a bad day or a low mood. Bipolar depression is devastating and dangerous. This same person who was on top of the world last week may now be unable to get out of bed because they feel worthless and literally hopeless. More often than not, the bipolar patient ideates suicide; and is at high risk for completing it.
Interestingly, some patients can suffer what's called "ultra-radian cycling", which means they can shift from manic to depressed in a matter of days; and more rarely---hours.
There has been question for years whether or not I suffer from bipolar disorder. It is a difficult diagnosis to make, and takes years of observation of the patient to make that determination. I have never experienced a "manic state", such as what I have (closeley to the DSM describes). However, like normal people I suspect, I have experienced periods of time where I feel reasonably "good" and that my issues seem far away and don't affect me very strongly. I have experienced, however, deep depression. I have been suicidal; and as a teenager I attempted it.
These shifts in my moods are usually not abrupt. My reasonably good mood lasts for months; and I will slowly over the course of weeks, slip into the depression. Once that depression sets in, it feels like my life should be over. Everything is hopeless. What is the point of living, I will ask myself.
Whether that is a bipolar disorder treatable with medication, I do not know. I do not seem to respond very well to the prescribed treatments; because I still find myself switching from reasonably good to absolute shit regardless of whatever substance I am am prescribed.
(This is why I wrote about the seasonal issues, and wondering if that is a component of my mood issues the other day)
Anyway, as I was saying, regarding my moods, Pam made an observation about me that I had never taken notice before. And I will summarize as best as my understanding allows me to.
And goddammit, Greg just walked in the door for our trip to the grocery store...so I have to close this entry for now. Don't you love how that works? Just as I'm getting to the point of it all. lol.
I'll continue this entry later. Thanks for reading.
I think he literally forgot about it and just dosen't want to admit it; which drives home the point that those damn recruits are taking first place in his life over me.
Have I ever mentioned that I am a jealous bitch?
After royally chewing him out over the phone and hanging up on him, he came home late last night with a dozen roses in his hand accompanied by a heartfelt declaration of how sorry he was. "I really fucked up, and I promise I will be there during your next appointment".
How can I be mad at a teary eyed guy in uniform, flowers in hand, and basically offering to do anything I wish him to do?
Anyway, Pam and I wound up having a typical session just the two of us. Obviously I told her how upset I was that Greg hadn't arrived, as well as how depressed and anxious I have been feeling this week for reasons I cannot talk about---because I don't know what they are. Apparently I was speaking frantically, because she told me to close my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and talk about the very first thing that popped in my mind.
"I am not important to anyone anymore", I said.
So we talked about those feelings. My 35th birthday is just two days away. My children are demonstrating their independance and strong sense of self more and more everyday, which are clues that they don't need me in the ways they used to. Instead of sitting and cuddling with me, they are on the phone, writing letters to their friends, closing the doors to their bedrooms because they need privacy, amongst all sorts of little clues that they do not need (or want) "mommy" up their asses 24/7. It used to be that the three of us were so close and so attached---we did everything together! Now, I cannot even coax them to help me pick up the living room and load the dishwasher without them complaining that they have "other" things to do. So not only are they most positively showing signs of teenagehood, but they are not helping me around the house, which leaves feeling lonely and overwhelmed with work, work, and more work.
And while Greg and I share a love that cannot be broken, the dynamics of our relationship have shifted. I was very young when we married....just 19, and a new sailor in the Navy. My eyes were wide open and excited, like a kid in a candy store, at the prospect of the world being as big as it was. Everything was new and uncharted. Since I had come from such an abusive upbringing, the world looked a lot bigger and shinier because I had been so neglected and unloved all of my formative years. Greg was a bit older than I--24 years old---and he had much more experience than I. He too had come from a broken home--the son of an alcoholic father and a narcissistic mother---but dealt with that pain in much different ways that I did my own. While I was excited and naive about the world and the prospect of making my own tracks in it, Greg was more cool and relaxed and willing to "take things as they come". I wanted to conquer everything; and he wanted to sit back and watch me do it.
It was a perfect joining of souls.
We remained like that for years. I was the go-getter in all things. The caretaker. The goal setter. The organizer. The voice of reason, encouragement, support and strength. I set the tone. And Greg, with his cool as a cucumber disposition, happily sat back and said, "of course you can do it!" whenever I needed a boost in my quest to rule the world. He never stood in my way, and he never expressed one ill word toward my aggressive approach towards adulthood. On the flip side, I refused to criticize or critique his belief that remaining on the sidelines of life was the best way for him to maintain himself.
But then things changed. He decided that he wanted to leave our cozy little bubble of predictable existance and go to war in Iraq. Without me. Without my consent. Without my blessing. Without my input at all. All of a sudden, right before my eyes, Greg became a man who wanted to be a part of something bigger than what he and I had created within our family and home. Perhaps my mistake was loving and accepting him too much; because I didn't say a word. I didn't ask him not to do it. I didn't tell him how scared I was, or how much I needed him to maintain the sense of saftey we had so carefully crafted together for so many years. By the time I realized these things, it was too late. He was already gone.
Back then, I thought my fear of him leaving was for obvious reasons: that he would die in combat. Of course I was afraid of that; but only recently have I discovered what my other (and more powerful but covert) sources of fear were. I was afraid of him leaving me alone to conquer the world by myself. Without him, I did not know who I was standing alone. Without him there to tell me it was okay, that I was okay, I did not believe that I was at all "okay". The truth is, I never really learned that I was "okay" at all. I needed Greg to do it for me.
As sick as this sounds, in many ways, Greg had played the role of the father I never had. And when he decided to go to war, to do something without me, I felt betrayed and abandoned in the exact same way I felt when my biological father dropped me on a doorstep, never to be heard again. My father destroyed my sense of saftey, and any feeling that I had of being a worthy lovable person.
My crime was that I had held Greg in this same position. And when he left, I felt those old wounds all over again, like they had been split open.
And even though it has been years since his return from war, life hasn't been the same. I love my husband, but he came home a changed man. He is highly decorated for his efforts in the war, and his career took off like a skyrocket since then. As the provider for the family, he is desperately trying to advance in paygrade before retirement, and meet the additional criteria requested of him to deserve that paygrade. In order to do this, he spends a lot of time at work----and a lot less time with me, which leaves me to my own devices.
Greg found a life outside of our relationship. He grew up.
I, however, did not. I have remained stuck in the my need for a father (and mother, presumably) figure who revolves around taking care of and encouraging me in anything I wish to do. I have remained stuck in my need to be around Greg all of the time to feel good about myself.
And I am grieving the loss of what we had.....even though it wasn't very healthy to begin with.
So as I approach the age of 35, the growing of my children and their need for independance outside of me, and the sense of self that my husband has developed as he continues to evolve as a person---I have painfully realized these past couple of years that I have not grown.
Because without someone else to love and shape and mold....without someone to live through....I really have no clue who I am outside of these people who have been such a wonderful distraction to a very basic question:
Who am I?
The most simple and obvious solution to my problems of lonliness and abandonment issues is to go out there and find myself a life. Participate in things I enjoy. Think about myself first. Set personal goals. Make more friends. Socialize more. Etc. Etc.
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard this from people: "Stacy it's time you start thinking about yourself! Get a job. Take a class. Start a career. Volunteer."
It goes on and on and on.
And at risk for sounding whiny, my response to this superficial feedback from these people is:
I don't know how.
And...
I'm terrified to figure out how.
Obviously this comes up in therapy, and it came up yesterday. Pam made an observation about me that I have never heard before, and it has me quite uneasy. In fact, I am taking my panic medication to cope today.
Any therapist or psychiatrist that I have ever seen--and there have been several---have always told me that I have some kind of "mood disorder" of varying degrees. When we talk about mood disorders, it is not a simple case of being "moody" in the context that a woman might claim she undergoes during menstruation. A mood disorder is a constant state of shifting mood and perception. For example: a person who has bipolar illness may experience weeks or months literally feeling on top of the world, and display behavior indicating that he/she is invincible. They feel soooo good they have little need for sleep, talk a mile and minute, make grandiose and often risky career moves, and sometimes partake in dangerous behavior such as chemical/substance abuse, spending sprees, unsafe sex, etc. Sometimes this "manic state", if left untreated, will result in psychosis.
But then, for no apparent reason, the person will "crash" into a debilitating depression. And I'm not talking about a bad day or a low mood. Bipolar depression is devastating and dangerous. This same person who was on top of the world last week may now be unable to get out of bed because they feel worthless and literally hopeless. More often than not, the bipolar patient ideates suicide; and is at high risk for completing it.
Interestingly, some patients can suffer what's called "ultra-radian cycling", which means they can shift from manic to depressed in a matter of days; and more rarely---hours.
There has been question for years whether or not I suffer from bipolar disorder. It is a difficult diagnosis to make, and takes years of observation of the patient to make that determination. I have never experienced a "manic state", such as what I have (closeley to the DSM describes). However, like normal people I suspect, I have experienced periods of time where I feel reasonably "good" and that my issues seem far away and don't affect me very strongly. I have experienced, however, deep depression. I have been suicidal; and as a teenager I attempted it.
These shifts in my moods are usually not abrupt. My reasonably good mood lasts for months; and I will slowly over the course of weeks, slip into the depression. Once that depression sets in, it feels like my life should be over. Everything is hopeless. What is the point of living, I will ask myself.
Whether that is a bipolar disorder treatable with medication, I do not know. I do not seem to respond very well to the prescribed treatments; because I still find myself switching from reasonably good to absolute shit regardless of whatever substance I am am prescribed.
(This is why I wrote about the seasonal issues, and wondering if that is a component of my mood issues the other day)
Anyway, as I was saying, regarding my moods, Pam made an observation about me that I had never taken notice before. And I will summarize as best as my understanding allows me to.
And goddammit, Greg just walked in the door for our trip to the grocery store...so I have to close this entry for now. Don't you love how that works? Just as I'm getting to the point of it all. lol.
I'll continue this entry later. Thanks for reading.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Prior to September of this year, I had been taking an antidepressant called Effexor XR; and I had been taking it for several years---about four, I think. Though there's no such thing as a "miracle drug", I have to say that Effexor wiped out 85% of my anxiety and depression symptoms from the very first dose I swallowed. Having suffered crippling anxiety and episodic depression all of my life, I had tried several different medication and combinations aka "cocktails" throughout the years; and none of them did much for me other than give me a variety of side effects that were worse than what I was already suffering from. Wellbutrin hyped me up so much I didn't sleep for a week, lost 20 pounds--and the combination of both insomnia and lack of food made me believe I could fly. Celexa gave me visual problems and heart palpitations. Zoloft just made me so goddamn stupid that I couldn't spell my own name. Those wonderful benzos like Valium and Xanax worked so well for my anxiety that I began to have anxiety attacks because I was afraid of becoming addicted. Mood stabalizers: Lithium gave me a rash. Depakote began to elevate my liver enzymes. Lamictal was too risky because of my sulfa allergies. Topomax made my ears ring. The antispychotics, also known to stabalize and level moods are so frightening that I only tried one: Geodon. Geodon is a wonderful and helpful medication, and I would've remained on it except it made my blood sugar so high I became pre-diabetic.
Effexor, however, was like I wasn't taking anything. I just felt immediately better. Not perfect. Not in a happy drugged haze. Just better. I felt like I was myself again; and though the anxiety and depression remained a struggle, I felt like I was able to use my own cognitive skills to manage the symptoms myself, rather than become overwhelmed by them. My panic attacks disappeared, and my debilitating depressive episodes vanished. I still had periodic episodes, of course, but it's like the medication put the brakes on whatever it is that sends me over the edge.
So for many years, I felt as close to human as I ever had.
Unfortunately, I was on the highest recommended dose; and after four years, it began to feel like it wasn't helping. When we moved here to Great Lakes, I began to (as I've talked about in prior entries) feel the anxiety and depression return with a vengence. My doctor and I both concluded that the Effexor was not working as well for me anymore; and it was also having an undesireable effect on my blood pressure which is a common side effect and nothing surprising, seen as I had been struggling with high blood pressure for the duration of my time on the drug.
As I said, I switched four months ago to Cymbalta, a new medication that is chemically similiar to Effexor. It has gotten a lot of hype from people who have physical symptoms of depression and anxiety such as muscle tension, headaches and IBS---all of which are manifestations of my own emotional issues.
I do not know if it is really helping me as much as I would like it to. I honestly don't. Sometimes I feel "okay"; but then right out of the blue I will be hit with a week or two where I feel like absolute shit that dosen't want to get out bed and/or having anxiety so bad that I am too afraid to leave the house. For example, recently, I have been feeling quite depressed. Lack of energy. No motivation. I want to sleep all the time but I can't sleep when I try. My muscles ache and I have gastrointestinal upet (IBS) symptoms that are worse than they've ever been. I feel lonely and bored and overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks.
I have told my doc this, and she told me that a medication called Abilify has been studied and proven to help your current antidepressants work better. About three weeks ago, she gave me a script for a very small 5 mg dose and informed me to take it just once in the morning, as it is known to be quite energizing.
I took the damn med for two days and I felt so weird I could stand it. I was sleepy, but jumpy at the same time. I felt like my thinking was slooooow, but my body wanted to keep moving around.
So I quit taking it and decided to rough it out on my own.
I've continued to feel like shit, and the doc will not be back in the office until after Christmas. So yesterday I decided to give the Abilify another shot; because from what I've read, people are having good results from this med. Instead of taking the whole 5 mg, I cut it in half and just took the 2.5 ish mg in the morning.
I felt a little slow....I even needed a nap. But by yesterday evening I was feeling so much more chipper that I actually sat with my family and watched Christmas movies with a bit of interest. My stomachache disappeared and I even caught myself laughing a few times at a couple of things my kids were saying.
I felt a little bit better. Whether or not that is the Abilify doing anything I do not know. But I tolerated the side effects (slowed thinking---like a brain fog) without too much trouble; so I took another dose this morning.
I am painfully aware that medication is not the answer to all of my problems. I may be dealing with a boost in anxiety/depression because of some issues in therapy, the Christmas season (which is so intimidating to me), as well as what Greg believes is a really nasty dose of the winter blues.
There is an illness called Seasonal Affective Disorder that I have only recently learned about. It is a form of bipolar illness, and it is caused by the varying amounts of sunlight due to the changes in seasons. Generally people who live further north suffer from it. As the days grow shorter, the brain does not receive enough sunlight (through the eyes) to produce "feel good" chemicals; hence, a type of "hibernation" results.
Also known as the winter blues.
And then when the days grow longer, patients find themselves feeling better during the late spring/summer months.
I TOTALLY THINK I have this illness. I really do. Looking back over my medical history, I discovered a few weeks ago that I have never had an 'episode' of depession/anxiety during the summer months. Ever. I lived in San Diego for seven years, and I not once had any problems. We moved to Wash D.C. in 2000, and the first October there I was in the E.R. with panic attacks and suicidal thoughts---and the start of my first medication. I was so fucking miserable there. After that we, moved further south to Virginia Beach, where we purchased a home full of windows. Though it got cold there, it was sunny and light much of the time. I did have an E.R. trips and a period of depression, but that was in...you guessed it---November of 2006. And then again in November 2007, when Greg was deployed in Iraq. But my doctor's notes were always positive during the summer months; and our six years in Virginia Beach were fairly uneventful as far as any "major" issue.
Then we moved here in February of this year---and holy shit within two weeks of being here I thought I should just jump off a bridge and end it all. As I've already posted, I wound up in the hospital by late August which is when I switched my meds.
And let me tell you, I have never been this far up north since I was a child. I was born in Northwest Indiana, but grew up in St. Louis; so I have no memory of being here. But I honest to goddess cannot believe how fucking depressing it is here. I am not shitting you when I say the sun does not come out. I cannot recall the last time we had a sunny day. And when we do, it's only just a few hours of dim light. Greg and I were at Walmart last week...at 3 p.m., and it was already so dark outside we had to put the headlights on during the drive.
Are you fucking serious?
Who lives like this without going insane?
I miss the warm early mornings on my porch swing, the beach, the sun streaming through my windows until 8 p.m. every day. I miss my little gazebo in the backyard where I could stay outside 9 months of the year and read and stitch. I miss my flower garden. I miss digging in the friggin' dirt! I miss the light.
I could cry.
I mentioned all of this to my doc, who is convinced that Seasonal Affective may be a contributing factor to my episodic problems, and may be the reason why doctors in the past have told me I have bipolar disorder. She told me that maybe I DO have bipolar---but on the seasonal level. This may explain why meds are not so much help to me, because once the summer comes around, I don't need them anymore.
She prescribed me the Abilify, and told me there are these types of lamps that can be purchased for the home. Not UV lamps, but they are specifically for people with seasonal affective disorder. They emit some kind of light that enters through the eyes. I guess you sit near them for 30 minutes upon waking, and then 30 minutes again at dusk (which lengthens "your" day), and they are proven to help!
At first I laughed and thought how retarded that sounds; but then I was researching them. I am almost convinced that I would like to try one for myself. You can buy them in all different sizes ranging from a tiny little desk one to a big panel that stands on the floor. The problem is, they are ultra expensive. The cheapest one I found is 200 bucks, and that is for a small one. The larger paneled ones are up to 500-700 bucks.
I hate taking meds.....and I am tired of "trying" new ones (there is another one called Pristique that is almost identical to Effexor that doc says we can "try"). I am comfortable with continuing the Abilify if it helps; but I am wondering if sitting exposed to one of these special lights might be better and healthier for me. It can't hurt anything.
So my question is, does anyone have any experience or knowledge with Seasonal Affective Disorder, and/or these theraputic lamps? I want to make a well researched purchase if it's gonna cost this much money!
Effexor, however, was like I wasn't taking anything. I just felt immediately better. Not perfect. Not in a happy drugged haze. Just better. I felt like I was myself again; and though the anxiety and depression remained a struggle, I felt like I was able to use my own cognitive skills to manage the symptoms myself, rather than become overwhelmed by them. My panic attacks disappeared, and my debilitating depressive episodes vanished. I still had periodic episodes, of course, but it's like the medication put the brakes on whatever it is that sends me over the edge.
So for many years, I felt as close to human as I ever had.
Unfortunately, I was on the highest recommended dose; and after four years, it began to feel like it wasn't helping. When we moved here to Great Lakes, I began to (as I've talked about in prior entries) feel the anxiety and depression return with a vengence. My doctor and I both concluded that the Effexor was not working as well for me anymore; and it was also having an undesireable effect on my blood pressure which is a common side effect and nothing surprising, seen as I had been struggling with high blood pressure for the duration of my time on the drug.
As I said, I switched four months ago to Cymbalta, a new medication that is chemically similiar to Effexor. It has gotten a lot of hype from people who have physical symptoms of depression and anxiety such as muscle tension, headaches and IBS---all of which are manifestations of my own emotional issues.
I do not know if it is really helping me as much as I would like it to. I honestly don't. Sometimes I feel "okay"; but then right out of the blue I will be hit with a week or two where I feel like absolute shit that dosen't want to get out bed and/or having anxiety so bad that I am too afraid to leave the house. For example, recently, I have been feeling quite depressed. Lack of energy. No motivation. I want to sleep all the time but I can't sleep when I try. My muscles ache and I have gastrointestinal upet (IBS) symptoms that are worse than they've ever been. I feel lonely and bored and overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks.
I have told my doc this, and she told me that a medication called Abilify has been studied and proven to help your current antidepressants work better. About three weeks ago, she gave me a script for a very small 5 mg dose and informed me to take it just once in the morning, as it is known to be quite energizing.
I took the damn med for two days and I felt so weird I could stand it. I was sleepy, but jumpy at the same time. I felt like my thinking was slooooow, but my body wanted to keep moving around.
So I quit taking it and decided to rough it out on my own.
I've continued to feel like shit, and the doc will not be back in the office until after Christmas. So yesterday I decided to give the Abilify another shot; because from what I've read, people are having good results from this med. Instead of taking the whole 5 mg, I cut it in half and just took the 2.5 ish mg in the morning.
I felt a little slow....I even needed a nap. But by yesterday evening I was feeling so much more chipper that I actually sat with my family and watched Christmas movies with a bit of interest. My stomachache disappeared and I even caught myself laughing a few times at a couple of things my kids were saying.
I felt a little bit better. Whether or not that is the Abilify doing anything I do not know. But I tolerated the side effects (slowed thinking---like a brain fog) without too much trouble; so I took another dose this morning.
I am painfully aware that medication is not the answer to all of my problems. I may be dealing with a boost in anxiety/depression because of some issues in therapy, the Christmas season (which is so intimidating to me), as well as what Greg believes is a really nasty dose of the winter blues.
There is an illness called Seasonal Affective Disorder that I have only recently learned about. It is a form of bipolar illness, and it is caused by the varying amounts of sunlight due to the changes in seasons. Generally people who live further north suffer from it. As the days grow shorter, the brain does not receive enough sunlight (through the eyes) to produce "feel good" chemicals; hence, a type of "hibernation" results.
Also known as the winter blues.
And then when the days grow longer, patients find themselves feeling better during the late spring/summer months.
I TOTALLY THINK I have this illness. I really do. Looking back over my medical history, I discovered a few weeks ago that I have never had an 'episode' of depession/anxiety during the summer months. Ever. I lived in San Diego for seven years, and I not once had any problems. We moved to Wash D.C. in 2000, and the first October there I was in the E.R. with panic attacks and suicidal thoughts---and the start of my first medication. I was so fucking miserable there. After that we, moved further south to Virginia Beach, where we purchased a home full of windows. Though it got cold there, it was sunny and light much of the time. I did have an E.R. trips and a period of depression, but that was in...you guessed it---November of 2006. And then again in November 2007, when Greg was deployed in Iraq. But my doctor's notes were always positive during the summer months; and our six years in Virginia Beach were fairly uneventful as far as any "major" issue.
Then we moved here in February of this year---and holy shit within two weeks of being here I thought I should just jump off a bridge and end it all. As I've already posted, I wound up in the hospital by late August which is when I switched my meds.
And let me tell you, I have never been this far up north since I was a child. I was born in Northwest Indiana, but grew up in St. Louis; so I have no memory of being here. But I honest to goddess cannot believe how fucking depressing it is here. I am not shitting you when I say the sun does not come out. I cannot recall the last time we had a sunny day. And when we do, it's only just a few hours of dim light. Greg and I were at Walmart last week...at 3 p.m., and it was already so dark outside we had to put the headlights on during the drive.
Are you fucking serious?
Who lives like this without going insane?
I miss the warm early mornings on my porch swing, the beach, the sun streaming through my windows until 8 p.m. every day. I miss my little gazebo in the backyard where I could stay outside 9 months of the year and read and stitch. I miss my flower garden. I miss digging in the friggin' dirt! I miss the light.
I could cry.
I mentioned all of this to my doc, who is convinced that Seasonal Affective may be a contributing factor to my episodic problems, and may be the reason why doctors in the past have told me I have bipolar disorder. She told me that maybe I DO have bipolar---but on the seasonal level. This may explain why meds are not so much help to me, because once the summer comes around, I don't need them anymore.
She prescribed me the Abilify, and told me there are these types of lamps that can be purchased for the home. Not UV lamps, but they are specifically for people with seasonal affective disorder. They emit some kind of light that enters through the eyes. I guess you sit near them for 30 minutes upon waking, and then 30 minutes again at dusk (which lengthens "your" day), and they are proven to help!
At first I laughed and thought how retarded that sounds; but then I was researching them. I am almost convinced that I would like to try one for myself. You can buy them in all different sizes ranging from a tiny little desk one to a big panel that stands on the floor. The problem is, they are ultra expensive. The cheapest one I found is 200 bucks, and that is for a small one. The larger paneled ones are up to 500-700 bucks.
I hate taking meds.....and I am tired of "trying" new ones (there is another one called Pristique that is almost identical to Effexor that doc says we can "try"). I am comfortable with continuing the Abilify if it helps; but I am wondering if sitting exposed to one of these special lights might be better and healthier for me. It can't hurt anything.
So my question is, does anyone have any experience or knowledge with Seasonal Affective Disorder, and/or these theraputic lamps? I want to make a well researched purchase if it's gonna cost this much money!
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