Better Living Through Chemistry

For all those living with a mental illness, the fun surrounding taking medications to control that illness is never-ending. Sometimes the meds make you sleepy, make you dull, kill your sex drive and cause weight gain. Unlike phsycial ailments, there are no quantifiable tests to determine is a psych medication is working. The success or failure of a medication is based solely on the person's assessment on whether or not you feel better.



That's the mess I am in. For over a year now, I have been taking three to four different medications to help with my depression. Depending on the circumstances of my life at the time, I would say the medication helps, or doesn't help. If nothing is going on, I feel OK. However, a slight bump in the road or a situation that is difficult for me to handle (large crowds, meeting new people, etc) will cause me to go into somewhat of a tail spin. The bigger the stressor, the worse the spinout. Meds don't seem to be helping at all with my reaction to stressors, even good ones. And sometimes, even if things are going well, I still feel depressed for reasons I can't explain.



I have no insurance, so I am going through the public mental health system, which has some serious flaws. It is overwhelmed, underfunded and their services are not well coordinated. A month after I got out of the crisis center, I still didn't have a case manager or a treatment plan. I also see a psychiatrist for about 5 minutes once every couple of months, and she asks me the same three questions: any side effects, do you want to kill yourself, and do you see/hear things that aren't there. If I answer "no" to those questions, I am sent about my merry way with refills. Remember those spinouts I referred to earlier? I mentioned them to my "drug dealer" a few months ago. She responded by adding more medication, both of which are used to treat bipolar disorder. The latter was a strong anti-psychotic that left me dull and confused most of the time. I quit taking it after a few weeks, but my psychiatrist wants me to resume the medication so she could see how I behaved on it.

I don't really know at this point how much of my depression is organic (caused by a chemical imbalance in my brain) and how much stems from the fact that my life is in limbo right now, and a therapist is taking me on a guided tour through pretty much the worst experiences of my life thus far. Lately I have been asking myself if the feelings I experience are truly from me, or are they from the medications? I just don't have a sure answer right now.

Home Security

It has been twelve days since the Great Move. I have unpacked, gone on a weekend retreat, survived a hail storm, made chicken curry, blown up a car and purchased a new one. I have affectionately named him (yes, this car is a male) Hank Lanyott. I have even managed to put in some work hours. Clearly, the last several days have been full of physical and emotional upheaval.



Key for me is the issue of security, the feeling that, generally, everything is okay and the world is not a scary place. In spite of moving in with a good friend, I don't feel secure. I am not in my own space. I recently made the decision to file for disability, which is completely counter to my family culture of never needing help and working full time (or more) to earn as much money as possible. My relationship with my family remains tenuous and distant. I don't believe I can trust them with my feelings or my resources because they seem to be wrapped up in their own lives. (I recently "sold" my sister a refrigerator, for which I have not seen a dime.) Even the outpouring of love and support from my friends is simultaneously a joyous and overwhelmingly alien experience.



Living in insecurity is frightening and depressing. My insecurities and the accompanying feelings of mistrust overwhelm me much of the time, making me generally a less pleasant person to be around. A friend who falls asleep in the afternoon when she promised to help me do something is not a simple faux pas to my subconscious. It brings to mind the dozen or so broken promises my mother made to me while I was growing up. Living with a roommate reminds me of the three other times my roommates' chaos sent my life spinning into a turmoil of its own. Even buying my current car (which is running fine, save for minor touchiness of reverse gear) gave me memories of so many times I have purchased something another person recommended, only to find I have been tricked or taken advantage of in some way.

Boy, on paper I sound quite paranoid. The truth is, I probably am. I haven't yet learned in my heart that, just because one situation goes bad it doesn't mean that every situation similar will end the same way. My mother broke promises, my sister broke promises. That doesn't mean a good friend will do the same. My friend succumbed to the body's natural need for sleep. That doesn't mean she is going to abandon or ignore me. The car I bought from a dealer turned out to be a piece of crap that blew up after only six or seven months. That doesn't mean Hank won't be a reliable ride for many years to come (he does have 176,000 miles on him, so let's not get crazy). In my rational, analytical mind I can see all these things. It's just that the emotional side of me has a long way to catch up.

So for now, I am keeping the coloring books handy for those times when I am feeling overwhelmed and mistrustful when there is no reason to be. It is time for me to start slowly building my own sense of security, be it at home or anywhere else.

Settling down

Three days ago a bunch of friends from church showed up at my apartment, and in three hours had all my stuff moved to either storage or to my new home, Kathy's house. Since that time I have had to rearrange almost every aspect of my life to accomodate my new surroundings, including another dog and no wi-fi until Kathy can remember or reset the password.

First, I am very thankful to all the people who have helped and continue to help me through this very tumultuous time. On Saturday I wasn't able to thank properly all the people who helped me move. I tried as hard as I could to keep it together, but in the end I found myself hiding in a back room hugging my cat and crying my eyes out while everyone else got the rest of my stuff unloaded and went on their way. Thank you cards are definitely in order.

I hate that I can't keep myself under control for a simple move, or that the kindness of friends still overwhelms me with mixed feelings of gratitude and unworthiness. My good friend has opened up her home to me with no hesitation, sharing her beautiful surroundings as a place for me to recenter and decide what the next step should be. For now, I content myself with "nesting", cooking meals, unpacking and organizing my surroundings and hoping that a feeling of security and safety might find me in this new environment.

Busy Busy Busy

I just slammed a fistful of happy pills, and I am ready to hit the ground running! I caught a break this morning when my client called in sick. Suddenly I have an entire day free to do whatever I want. OK...that's a lie. I have an entire day to do what I NEED to do before I bid this apartment goodbye. I have to make my car payment, cash some checks, do my invoices, find a storage place, look for an area rug and curtain, pack, get flea preventative for my dog, and remember to harvest my agave on my virtual farm! And people wonder why I can't shut off my brain.

You wanna know what the last thing that really tripped me out was? I forgot to feed my dog on my virtual farm, and she ran away! Now she is in the virtual pound, and I don't have the 2 farmbucks I need to get her out. I have almost a million coins, but no...the pound wants FARMBUCKS! So my poor computer puppy sits in doggy jail until either 2 farmbucks magically appear in my Farmville account, or the programmers decide to let people use coins to let owners bail their puppies out of the pound. I couldn't keep track of feeding a computer puppy? And I'm actually sad about it? How screwed up is that???? Forget that I only lack three bricks to finish my nursery (which I don't really know why I started building, except people started sending me building materials for it). My poor virtual puppy is in jail! And to make matters worse, people are still sending me kibble and treats!!!

OK...back to reality. Thank you for letting me go off on that happy little tangent. Good thing it's time to go see my therapist. :)

Good Grief

My family doesn't mourn losses, at least, not in any traditional sense. When grandma died, grandpa had her cremated without any sort of memorial service. Instead the family gathered at grandpa's house and ate a big chicken dinner. When mom died, we made ribs. Their ashes were placed in the china cabinet in the dining room to collect dust. No one has spoken of either of them since.

As for me, when grandma died, I drank pretty hard for about a year. When mom died, I took a portion of her ashes and placed them in the flower garden in front of my house (which I am now selling, but at least the garden is growing strong.) I don't think I have taken care of myself properly since then.

Now I am faced with grieving many losses at the same time, and it is devestating me. I lost the innocence of my childhood when I was five. I lost my dream of being a musician when I was 12 and my grandparents wouldn't let me be in band. I lost my college dream of attending OCU so I could study French and German (it didn't and doesn't matter what the practical applications of such study are or are not!) I've lost boyfriends, girlfriends, best friends. Now I am losing my health, my career, my house and perhaps even my sanity.

These days, I cry bitterly during every therapy session. I leave drained, exhausted. I try my hardest to put the memories that have been brutally dragged up from the dark recesses of my soul. I wonder why I couldn't just leave them buried, but I know there is no "getting over it"; I must go through. I just wish I knew when I will be able to see the other side.

Although I know I have friends that are working so hard to keep me from falling, my sense of security is gone. I feel exposed, as if every bad memory, every weakness, every shame, is being laid out for the world to see. The internal judge that tells me I am unworthy, unloveable and useless is screaming against all this new, strange love and support my friends are pouring on me these days. They tell me I am loved, that I am capable, that I am beautiful (even typing this word brings me to tears). I pray that, maybe if I hear these words long enough, I might begin to believe...

Empty

My house is on the market. It may sell, it may not. What hit me yesterday, though, was how empty the house was now that it had been cleared of all the furniture, junk and decorations. On the one hand, my footsteps on the wood floors echoing throughout conjured sadness, like the house was grieving the loss of the life within it. At the same time, this empty house is free to accept a whole new life, with it's own trappings and a chance to make new memories within this space.

While I have left the house, I am moving into a new, now empty space. Like my house, this room in the house of a close friend, has very recently been emptied, swept clean of memories of the girl who grew up there. I know it was hard for her mother to empty that room for the same reason that emptying my house was hard. It is closing the door on the past and making way for the future. It is change, and that is difficult, even under ideal circumstances. Still, the empty room brings promise of new memories and new life as well. I pray that I might add only happy memories to that space, and that it offers a new life for me.

My life right now seems to be enduring the same changes as the living spaces I have and will occupy. I am emptying my heart and head of old junk, old tapes, old heartbreaks and hurts. Once that emptying process is complete, I must find new things to occupy the empty spaces left behind. I am hopeful that, this time, I will fill my life with beautiful, peaceful and meaningful things.

The Next Step

My head is always so full of things to do and things to think about that sometimes I am mentally and psychologicallt paralzyed by it all. That's when the little hamster wheel in my brain starts spinning. Boy, can that little guy run! By the time he's done, I have gone from a simple problem to being homeless and ready to give up on everything. It sounds silly, but living this ritual over and over is a much different story.

I received a bit of good advice and a way to give the hamster a break: "Just focus on taking the next step." For me that means not worrying about what to do tomorrow, next week, next month or next year. For now it means focusing on what to do next. For example, I am typing this blog. After I am done typing, I will make something to eat. While I do that, I will decide on what to do after.

For now, that is a good idea because when I think about all the challenges I am facing - moving, bankruptcy, health problems, finding a different job, cleaning up this chaos in my living room - it is easy to let myself get overwhelmed and give the hamster another chance to get the wheel spinning again. I don't have a lot of coping skills, so right now focusing only on the next step is the most effective tool I have.