Handcuffed to the Roller Coaster > October 2004 Archives

October 31, 2004

Being Happy

It's nice to feel happy. I guess you could say "normal" but I don't know exactly what that word means. I just feel happy. That means I'm glad to wake up, glad to go about my business. Even work isn't a chore. I've been happy for about a month. No problems going to school, no trouble getting to my job.

Happy is when your meds are working. I feel fine. It's rare enough I don't have swings, even little ones, but I've been good except for one day this entire last month. That's a good thing.

Hate to sound like I'm gloating, but it's just such an uncommon occurrence with me. Even being broke and poor can't stop me from being happy. I just hope it lasts.

Posted by Susan at 4:27 PM

October 29, 2004

My 'Word, What a Few Weeks!

Well, I've been a busy little girl! Work and school, work and school, no time to do anything but work, study, sleep...I've sorely neglected my duties to myself. And to my journal.

I've changed my medications slightly. My liver enzymes were too high, so my drs. took me off Depakote entirely. So far, no problems. And they raised my thyroid medication, which may be why I was so depressed there for a while. All in all, except for being tired and having a head cold, I'm doing quite well.

After this week, I'll be unemployed again. My job at Knott's will end on the 31st unless they decide to hire me back for the rest of the year. If they don't, it's back to temp work. *Sigh*. But I do what I have to. I have now committed to 3 or 4 years of school, and I'll be damned if I let a job stand in the way.

I've also committed to losing 50 pounds. I'm a little worried about diabetes, what with my meds and all, and I plan to lose 1 pound a week for the next year. That should be just about right.

Well, thats enough of my boring life. No great insights this week. :) But I promise to be back again.

Posted by Susan at 3:19 PM

October 15, 2004

Another Time, Another Place

Been to see my dr. He doesn't want to do anything with my meds till I see my regular m.d. Turns out my liver enzymes are elevated (whatever that means) and my thyroid is low. That could be why I've been depressed. I see my m.d. on Monday. I guess that is the best way to proceed for now.

I have signed up for school, I believe I mentioned. Classes have started, and things are proceeding apace. I think it will be fun, and also beneficial. Something to get me going and a reason to get out of bed. I may have to work a little harder, but it will be worth it. Classes are 8 hours a day, 2 days a week. So if I work the other 5 days a week, I'll be fine. Egad!

Kung fu may or may not be in the cards. If they find a place to have classes, I will continue to go, because I like it and because it's a good workout. If not, I'll cancel the contract, I have no intention of paying $110 every month for something that doesn't exist.

I'm feeling better if you can't tell. It goes like that. First I feel down, then I feel better. Just another day of being handcuffed to the rollercoaster.

Posted by Susan at 12:06 AM

October 11, 2004

What It Means Part 2

Depression takes the meaning from everything. It takes the pleasure from everything. For instance, I don't especially like my job. But depression makes me not care about it. I just don't want to be there, but I don't want to be home. I don't want anything. If I could stop dead in my tracks and just stand in one spot, I would.

Today, I signed up for a career college. It's like a private college, so the fees are quite high. In this case, about 50K for the entire course. I don't qualify for any grants, since I already have a BA, so I have to rely on loans, which will be expensive to pay back. So I come home and tell this to my mother, and the first thing she says is, "You can't afford that!" This, after telling me I ought to go back to school. *SIGH* I will find a way to pay it, I said. There are ways and ways.

Depression is lack of motivation. Depression isn't feeling sad or moping around or being bored. Depression is just not being able to do anything, and yet feeling upset with yourself because you're not able to do anything. It's being stuck in that terrible contradiction between needing to do something and not being able to do anything.

In ancient Greece, there were two monsters, Scylla and Charybdis, who lived on opposite sides of a narrow strait. Scylla had wild dogs for legs and they tore ships to pieces if they strayed too close. Charybdis had a huge sucking mouth that drew ships into a deadly whirlpool. Depression is like that. You are trapped in a narrow channel between two deadly monsters, and any move you make away from one only pushes you nearer to the other. The despair can easily take you down.

Either my depression's getting worse, or I'm giving up on getting better. I had a laundry list of things to do today; got exactly one thing done: Laundry. And signing up for school, which might have been a mistake. But if I wait till I can afford it, on 7 dollars an hour, when am I supposed to sign up?

When I'm in this sort of mood, I take razor blades to my arms, that's what. I'm getting into a mixed state, which means the old rollercoaster's starting up again. I'm going in to see my dr. on Wednesday, so hopefully I've forestalled that one. We'll see.

Posted by Susan at 11:19 PM

October 10, 2004

What Depression Means

Don't you just wish you could explain to people what it feels like when you're depressed? Ideally, you could be in mental telepathy with them and show them, but there's really no way to tell people what depression is like.

They think it is like being sad, or unhappy. They may relate it to simple boredom. This is where you get suggestions like, "What do you have to be depressed over?" or, "Why don't you just do *-* and then you'll feel better," as if depression were only being at a loss for things to keep one occupied. My mom likes to tell me to take a walk or get some exercise.

I've been riding a low this week--part of the reason I haven't been writing, and today I couldn't get out of bed until it was time to go to work. And it's not like I didn't have tons of stuff to do, or I couldn't have exercised on the treadmill, I just couldn't get up. I was tired.

Being depressed is more like being physically exhausted. Every chore or task seems insurmountable. I had laundry to do today, and I mean LAUNDRY. Everything I own is dirty. But I couldn't make myself get up to do it. I was too tired. The physical task of sorting, carrying down to the laundry room, putting the soap in the wash, it was all too much. Easier to stay in bed.

Being depressed is like having just run a marathon. Everyone has seen the end of an ironman triathlon on TV, when the runners come in and just collapse into their trainers' arms, spent, with nothing left to give. They may have laundry to do too, but you'll never catch them doing it. No one would expect it of them. Depression is like that.

Nothing is pleasurable, in depression. People may say, "I don't always like everything, either," but depression is different. It's like looking at the world through smeared glasses. Flowers are less bright, the sky is less blue. It's just not nice, and there seems to be no reason to keep trying to find something to like in all that gray dinginess.

It took me forty-five minutes to sit down and write this, and it's not coming out at all like I hoped. Depression is like that. Nothing is right, thought it's hard to say what is wrong. Everything's askew, and it's just a question of waiting till things straighten back out again.

I'm very tired. I want to sleep. I will have to get up tomorrow and do at least one load of laundry, or my work clothes will go to work by themselves. I think I can manage one chore tomorrow, the laundry. And I will tidy up the kitchen, which I also haven't done all weekend. But maybe this post will help. Maybe you can give it to someone who doesn't understand why you're depressed, and you can explain what it means.

Posted by Susan at 4:12 AM

October 6, 2004

Surviving

I've been doing okay. Been working at Knott's over the weekend, so I've been a little busy getting my schedule arranged etc., and being too tired to write. I'll get back into the swing again. I've been slacking on my writing chores and household chores, and that's not good. But I've been getting to work with no trouble and getting to my kung fu classes, so that's a plus.

Working at Knott's has its good and bad sides. The work is very low-stress, just what's needed for a rapid cycling bipolar, (I'm running the metal-detector at the main gate) and the hours are good. Problem is, the hours haven't yet been up to 8 a night, although I'm scheduled for 8. I've been lucky to get six hours. That's rough when you're getting paid $7 an hour. But it'll pay for my meds & sundry needs. If need be I"ll go back on the county and save a buck or two.

I'm having an arguement with my dr. He doesn't seem to think that my meds could suddenly be making me drowsy in the morning. I disagree. I've gone thru periods where my meds suddenly changed for me--that's why we need to fine-tune every now and again. I do hate argueing with my dr. I've been doing this for at least the last 20 years, probably as long as my dr., so dont' tell me he knows more than me.

Well, nuff said. I will win this battle, or I'll find a new dr. That's always what I do.

Posted by Susan at 10:28 PM

October 3, 2004

Wishing You Could Take it Back

Now I have to live in terror that my friend from Nevada will see this and know what I think. Sometimes I wish I could just keep my stupid mouth (or keyboard) shut and never never never say what I think. I am so stupid. I hate myself sometimes for my thoughtlessness.

Turns out my friend is a better friend than even I thought. He thinks I saved his life a long time ago, that's why he's such a good friend now. I would have been more patient with him if I'd known. God, I'm so dumb.

It's unlikely he'll ever find this site, it's not under my full name, but still there's always a chance, and there's not a lot of people in LA with friends in Nevada like I've described. Oh, and work for Knott's. He'll know who I mean, and then he'll hate me. I hate me. I hate life.

Posted by Susan at 1:57 PM