The Journey of a Survivor http://alive.psychcentral.net My life has been turbulent…dramatic to say the least. Read a little, but use caution it contains many triggers. Tue, 12 Aug 2008 22:22:24 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=wordpress-mu-1.2.5 en Letter to My psychiatrist http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/12/50/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/12/50/#comments Tue, 12 Aug 2008 06:19:15 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/12/50/

Letter to my psychiatrist:

I don’t believe in a government that protects us from ourselves.

There is no stop and no beginning to the anger or the sadness or the fear—it always has been, always is and always will be. I do not feel love or joy—I am more of an empty shell—I have no true essence. The inside core of me feels absolutely nothing—complete numbness. I am made of stone. I am dead. Something killed me…killed me before I ever got to live and this corpse that walks around is doomed to exist in this miserable world forever.

Wait, there is one emotion I know I have—fear. I know I have fear because I fear death. If I did not fear death, I would have killed off this corpse long ago. So, in addition to being a maggot filled carcass, I am a coward. Can it get any better than this?

Why am I being tormented like this? 12 hours ago I was in your office feeling more or less okay about things. What happened to me? Something inside my brain clicked and I am worse than I was 3 weeks ago. Worse because I no longer have the hope of death—I can not be rescued. I am cursed by this life that was forced upon me. I know god does not exist because no god would create a wretched soul like mine. I must be a freak of nature—an evolutionary mishap. Getting my tubes tied was wise—at least “I” will not happen again.

I am sending you this letter instead of calling you because I know exactly what you will say. If I call you, you will say, “Stay on your meds.” You will emphasize the word “on.” I keep saying that over and over in my head. Maybe if I say it enough times, it will finally take hold and this war will stop. I can intellectually stand back and see that taking my meds is good for me—it is the right thing to do. And, yet I have this relentless voice demanding me to immediately stop them and throw them in the trash. It is irrational, but it is also as loud as hell.

I hate my existence.

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]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/12/50/feed/ The thoughts that never leave my mind… http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/10/the-thoughts-that-never-leave-my-mind%e2%80%a6/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/10/the-thoughts-that-never-leave-my-mind%e2%80%a6/#comments Mon, 11 Aug 2008 01:41:22 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/10/the-thoughts-that-never-leave-my-mind%e2%80%a6/

Sometimes, I wonder if I am going crazy because of the nature of my intrusive thoughts. I constantly have an internal voice telling me to kill myself and an active dialogue on how I should do it. I know the voice is mine and I know it is just some sort of internal dialogue my brain is making up…but, do “normal” people do this? I can sit for hours and just think these thoughts—let them take over. I very rarely play music because I already have a constant source of stimuli going on in my head. Music just seems to confuse things—I don’t know what I should be listening to, the music or the internal dialogue. Generally, the dialogue wins out, so I no longer bother to play the stereo.

 

I try to ignore the voice in my head by concentrating on a topic and trying to focus on researching it. Like, if I try real hard, I can override the dialogue by hyper-focusing on something else. But, it only works for short periods and I often find that I have been sitting at my computer for an hour or more just entertaining the intrusive suicidal thoughts. So, this voice that tells me to kill myself is almost constantly with me. Pretty much day in and day out—every minute of every single day—it never really goes away. It is rather maddening to have to put up with it.

 

My abilify seems to quiet it down some. If I can manage to stay on my abilify for an extended period of time the intrusive thoughts slow down and sometimes even go away for brief moments. But, staying on the abilify seems to be a struggle for me. I think part of my illness is the irrational thoughts I have concerning whether or not I should take my meds.

 

Recently, I have given into the thoughts and have been obsessing about suicide. I have been researching it and preparing my goodbyes to the people I am going to hurt by killing myself. Instead of writing notes to everybody, I have been making short videos trying to explain my thoughts and my actions. It is really hard to actually say goodbye to your mom and dad and other loved ones in your life. It seems like I am having a tough time justifying the pain I would cause them by killing myself. I just can’t bring myself to tell my mom goodbye and until I can do that, I can’t kill myself. I have to say goodbye.

 

So, here I am with all these obsessive thoughts about suicide and the dilemma of not being able to do it because of my loved ones. I feel stuck, trapped…trapped in a life that I am not sure I really want to be living. At this point, I am just going on for the sake of others. That is not how I want to spend my life.  

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/10/the-thoughts-that-never-leave-my-mind%e2%80%a6/feed/ Suicide and being in the hospital http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/01/suicide-and-being-in-the-hospital/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/01/suicide-and-being-in-the-hospital/#comments Fri, 01 Aug 2008 18:33:41 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/01/suicide-and-being-in-the-hospital/

The past couple weeks have been very difficult for me. I just got home from the hospital this evening. I see my psychiatrist and therapist tomorrow and I am anxious…I don’t know how much the hospital told them. I feel a little embarrassed and ashamed about the things I have done over the past couple weeks—especially the suicide attempt. I feel like a failure for not succeeding. Although, I know the people around me are thankful I am still alive I am not sure if I am thankful.

My meds are kicking in and I feel a little less depressed and my intrusive thoughts and obsessions have been curtailed—good or bad, I am back in reality. However, I don’t have very much hope that things around me are going to change for the better. I just don’t know how I am ever going to navigate through this world—how I am going to deal with the stress of life. I feel like just hiding out in my house forever.

My pdoc has finally got my meds right, but I am struggling to stay on them. Before, I had a conversation in my head—I obsessed about it—it started back in 2005. It is the same conversation over and over and over. I wanted the conversation to end because it was taking over my life. It never gave me a moment of peace and quiet—it was constantly going on in my head. Anything that took my attention away from it caused me great anxiety. Sometimes, I stayed awake all night long just so I could engage in the conversation—I felt like I had to have it.

Now that the conversation is gone, I miss it. It provided me an escape from reality. Now, I feel like reality is constantly in my face and I can’t get away from it. I no longer have the ability to just focus on my obsession. Before, I had a focus—a constant focus on my obsessive conversation—my mind had a purpose. Now, my mind is bouncing around like a ping pong ball on steroids.

Even though the conversation was irrational, it gave me hope—hope that I would someday be cured of my depression and anxiety. Now, I have very little hope that I will ever recover from this. It feels like just being alive is torture and I am never going to escape it in this lifetime.

It is tough for me to deal with getting better. In some ways I am suppose to be recovering from my mental health issues—supposedly making progress, but I feel like I replaced the old struggles with new struggles.

So, I am at home. I have the freedom to decide if I really want to continue to fight this battle for my life. Do I want to stay on my meds or even just exist? No, right now, I am not really suicidal, so don’t worry about that. I am in control of my impulses and will not do anything drastic, but, the suicidal ideation is alive and well. Nietzsche said something about letting the thought of suicide carry you through the dark nights. I guess that is what I am doing. No matter what, I do have an option—an escape.

I thought my death would bring me peace and quite, but I think my suicide attempt showed me that when I die I will experience nothing. After death I will no longer exist in any form. Death is nothingness. Well, what good is peace and quiet if I can’t truly experience it? I also have an internal drive that tells me that if I die, I will never know what happens—what the world thinks about me. It sounds kinda weird, but curiosity is a part of what is keeping me going. That and the desire for peace and quiet are my reasons to live. Oh, and combined with the quilt I feel for putting my loved ones through such a difficult time. The hospital constantly pointed out that I would be hurting a lot of people.

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/08/01/suicide-and-being-in-the-hospital/feed/ I can’t believe I lived like that. http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/05/02/i-can%e2%80%99t-believe-i-lived-like-that/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/05/02/i-can%e2%80%99t-believe-i-lived-like-that/#comments Fri, 02 May 2008 20:22:36 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/05/02/i-can%e2%80%99t-believe-i-lived-like-that/ Thinking of the 11 year old is difficult. I don’t have a picture of her in my mind the way I did the younger kid. I think it is because when I think about her I winch and shut my eyes. It is strange not being able to picture yourself at that age, but it is like I can’t remember or better to say I won’t remember. My initial reaction when trying to bring up her image is an overwhelming sense of shame. I can’t believe I lived like that. For god’s sake, I lived in a crate. Where was I suppose to take a shower? Where was I suppose to wash my clothes? There was a trailer there, but it had no heat, no stove, no refrigerator—the rats were so bad you could not sleep in it. It was safer in the crate. It was safer down by the river. At one point I gave up brushing my hair—it was so matted, I could not get a brush through it. How could the school system let me come to school like that? How can I ever admit I was like that? No respectable person would live like that.

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/05/02/i-can%e2%80%99t-believe-i-lived-like-that/feed/ Questions http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/21/questions/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/21/questions/#comments Mon, 21 Apr 2008 23:42:36 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/21/questions/ Mainly I sit around thinking or fantasizing about shooting myself. I feel like a failure—like nothing I have done in this world has made a difference. I just got out of an appointment with my pdoc and he said these are the things we all worry about—whether we matter—have we accomplished anything—have we made a difference in the world—what is our purpose for being here…I think what he was getting at is that I am not the only one who thinks these thoughts—even he thinks them about himself. The difference is I am sitting around with a gun while I think about them. He reassured me that I do make a difference to the people around me and that right now I am viewing this all through a filter of depression. Things will become clearer and look differently when I am not so depressed. The question is…can I make it out of this depression?

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/21/questions/feed/ Getting off my medications… http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/08/getting-off-my-medications/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/08/getting-off-my-medications/#comments Tue, 08 Apr 2008 19:00:31 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/08/getting-off-my-medications/ So, my boyfriend claims I am distant—not engaged in our conversations. He is right. I spend the majority of my time in my head having these imaginary conversations with myself. Matter of fact, all I really want to do in life is carry on these conversations. Anything that interrupts them irritates me. The only times I can focus on something else is when I take Dexedrine. It calms my mind down and lets me focus on whatever I need to get done. I have no emotions. I don’t feel good or bad…just indifferent. In some ways it does not even bother me that my boyfriend is not speaking to me. Oh, yeah, he is not speaking to me because I am “so withdrawn.” I guess I am not emotionally available enough for him. I think the medications I am on numb me out. I can’t tell him what I feel because I don’t know what I feel…I feel a whole lot of nothing. Well, I worry about things—is worry a feeling? My brain goes non-stop, 100 mph. It whirls around all the shit I should have done or should be doing…so, I escape by having these conversations in my head.   

 

Last night I decided to try to get off my medications. I take Abilfy, Dexedrine, Wellbutrin and Lamictal. When I first got up this morning I took a dose of Dexedrine, but I have not had any of the other medications or any more of the Dexedrine. It is about 3 PM and my head is really starting to hurt. Matter of fact, I think I can feel my heartbeat in every single one of my hair follicles.

 

I am not really sure what is going to happen…how I am going to manage to do this, but I want off these meds. I am so out of touch with my feelings that I don’t even know who I am anymore. There is no joy in my life. Life is just a series of tasks that must get done so I can go to bed. I just can’t stand to live like this anymore. I can’t stand the nothingness. Oh, my god, my head hurts.

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/04/08/getting-off-my-medications/feed/ Life does not matter… http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/02/05/life-does-not-matter/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/02/05/life-does-not-matter/#comments Tue, 05 Feb 2008 15:55:18 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/02/05/life-does-not-matter/ At least, at the moment, I am not whacked out delusional. It does seem like every time I fall into a depression, it gets worse. I get a little bit crazier each time. That is a good reason to do everything I can to stay out of the depression. I am doing everything I can possibly do to get better–therapy, shrink, meds, reaching out, journaling, volunteering, being there for others in my support group…I still feel like I have a wet blanket over my life. I don’t feel happy or joyful…I have very few good feelings. Eating is about the only thing that seems to be pleasurable. Life seems like a task I have to get done. I keep pushing myself and keep doing things, but in some ways none of it really seems to matter. I print because it occupies my mind, I can’t say it really feels good. It just feels better to print than to sit around doing nothing. There was a time, I really did enjoy printing. Now, I am not so sure. I keep turning the radio on because I know I should like music, but really, it does not matter. It is just noise–none of the music makes me feel good. Sometimes it is difficult to be with you because I have to talk–I have to interact with you. I really have to push myself to do that. It is not because I don’t love you. It is because my world is this gray nothingness. I know I should be having feelings when I am with you, but they just are not there. It is like there is this big void inside of me. Sunday night I thought about your health and what if I lost you. I would be devastated. I don’t know if I could survive or not. You anchor me to reality. You keep me trying to get better. If it was not for you, I don’t know that I would still be here in Columbus. I might have given up by now. I want to get better because I know what it is like to feel that joyful love I have for you. I want to feel that, but it seems buried inside of me. It is difficult to know you love somebody, but to not be able to really feel it. All this frustrates me. I think part of the not feeling is the meds. The meds keep me sane, but they also flatten out all my emotions. Things just don’t matter. It is weird to not be real depressed, but to not really care about anything. Of course, I am just talking about feelings. My mind goes a million miles an hour. Sometimes, it is like a runaway train. I can’t sit and watch a movie because I can’t turn off my brain. I can’t lie next to you and relax because my thoughts just churn inside of my head. Even sleep does not stop my brain–my sleep is filled with dreams and often nightmares. That is where the printing is so useful–it requires me to focus enough that it distracts me from my thoughts. Printing may not feel real good, but it is an escape from the constant bombardment of thoughts. It does not matter if I produce any art. What matters is that it gives me a break. That is why I sometimes just have to take a night and print. I have to shut off my brain. I just don’t give a shit about life. I am not suicidal, but it does not really matter to me if I live to see tomorrow. I don’t know if there is an answer to all this. I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like this. I just can’t imagine what else I could possibly do to make it better. I guess I will just keep doing what I am doing…just keep getting up every morning and trying to make things better. Surely this can’t last forever.

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2008/02/05/life-does-not-matter/feed/ Doing everything I can to stop the depression… http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/16/doing-everything-i-can-to-stop-the-depression/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/16/doing-everything-i-can-to-stop-the-depression/#comments Fri, 16 Nov 2007 13:52:04 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/16/doing-everything-i-can-to-stop-the-depression/ Dr. Z., In addition to the meds I have been trying to do everything I can to stop the depression. I have been throwing myself into my volunteer work. Trying to keep myself looking to others instead of dwelling on my problems and the depression. Working hard in therapy and with my journaling. Trying to take time for myself to do things such as paint. Paying close attention to my sleep cycle and eating. Taking my meds like it is a religion. Setting small goals and trying to reach them…household and work. Imagery before I go to sleep at night. Reading about recovery, depression, ADD…I have even modified the 12 steps and have been working them for depression. I took out the god part out, switched out alcohol for depression and modified them a little. They are still the steps, although they look a lot different. So far, I have made it to step 3. I am not sure if I will follow through with the rest of them or not. I am the poster girl for recovery.

 

If nothing else I have stopped the depression from getting worse—that in itself is a miracle. Maybe a slight improvement—enough that I am motivated to do the things I need to do to fight the depression but not enough to completely get rid of it. As long as I am able to keep working to recover, I don’t want to increase any of my meds. Can we just leave them the way they are and let me try to work my way out of this? I am trying real hard and I’d like to be able to do this on my own. I am feeling like I want to quit all the meds, but I know they help me. I think the med combo we have right now is keeping me above water just enough that I am motivated to keep working at this. Lets just let things ride for awhile.

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/16/doing-everything-i-can-to-stop-the-depression/feed/ …those damn elusive words would not form themselves into a sentence let alone a coherent idea or story http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/09/those-damn-elusive-words-would-not-form-themselves-into-a-sentence-let-alone-a-coherent-idea-or-story/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/09/those-damn-elusive-words-would-not-form-themselves-into-a-sentence-let-alone-a-coherent-idea-or-story/#comments Fri, 09 Nov 2007 20:17:24 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/09/those-damn-elusive-words-would-not-form-themselves-into-a-sentence-let-alone-a-coherent-idea-or-story/ My blog has been in idle mode for some time…my world has been busy and I have lacked the creative energy it takes to continuously blog. Seems like the blank paged just stared at me and those damn elusive words would not form themselves into a sentence let alone a coherent idea or story. Anyway, I am back and I hope to start posting again. Please check back later.

]]> http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/11/09/those-damn-elusive-words-would-not-form-themselves-into-a-sentence-let-alone-a-coherent-idea-or-story/feed/ Alcoholic Father http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/09/11/alcoholic-father/ http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/09/11/alcoholic-father/#comments Tue, 11 Sep 2007 13:01:47 +0000 alive http://alive.psychcentral.net/2007/09/11/alcoholic-father/ My father is nearing the end of his alcoholism. He is only 58 but he is dying. He has 2 teeth left and is basically starving to death. He is severely depressed and is not eating. He drinks from the moment he wakes up until he passes out. He was extremely bloated and slightly overweight from the booze, but now he has lost all the weight and is thin as a rail except for his protruding stomach. I don’t know how much longer his body will last.

My brother and I are both in recovery. Due to violence and another brother that is insane, we had to remove ourselves from the situation in order to preserve our own safety and sanity. I am dealing with it fairly well, but my brother is struggling. He feels as if he has abandoned my father to die–he is taking on the responsibility for my father and is blaming himself for not helping my father. I have had long conversations with him–trying to help him see that my father has a disease–that the disease has taken over his life and we can not force him to stop drinking. Even if the drinking is killing him. We can’t help him until he decides he wants to be helped…in no way whatsoever are we responsible for his alcoholism or his situation in life or his eventual death. Ultimately, my father has to make the choice–we can’t do it for him.

Also, we can’t put ourselves in danger–we have to take care of us if we ever want to be there to help him (if he ever decides to stop drinking). I have seen my father once in 10 years. I have not abandoned him–I keep him in my heart–I carry him with me. I am taking care of me–I am keeping myself sane–I can’t live in that type of violence and suffer the abuse. A part of me believes that my father wants me to be happy–that he wants the best for me–that he would want me to take care of myself. Although I have suffered abuse from him, deep in his heart he does not want me to hurt. After all, he is my father and the love for your children is special. He is a very sick person–it is the alcohol that makes him do the bad things–he is not evil–he is sick.

I believe that my father loves me. He is just unable to show it. I have forgiven him for the abuse, but my brother still holds a tremendous amount of anger about how we were and continue to be treated by my father. On one hand my brother is angry with him but on the other hand he loves him and it is tearing him apart that he can not help my father.

My father basically has nothing–he is living in poverty–he is facing jail for fraud. He is absolutely miserable. Sometimes I think that the only thing that keeps him going is the thought of his next drink–the illusion that it will somehow make things better. Even though it is just forcing him deeper and deeper into misery.

My brother and I are my fathers legacy. We honor him by growing into good, respectful members of society. We have overcome severe abuse, broken the cycle of poverty and violence…we are successful, well rounded adults. If my father was not blinded by alcohol, he would be proud of us.

I am really worried about my brother. I worry about the toll this is taking on his sobriety–my biggest fear is that he will relapse. My other fear is that he will live his life with the heavy weight of guilt for something he has no control over. My father has taken our childhood from us–he has scarred us and given the opportunity would continue to abuse us. He has stolen the joy out of our childhood and I fear he is going to suck the happiness out of my brothers adult life. This makes me want to scream. It frustrates me, angers me…saddens me. I love my brother and I want him to finally enjoy his life–to find some peace. His life has been hell, he deserves better. I just wish he believed that he deserves better–that he deserves to be happy–he has paid his dues–it is time for him to find peace.

If I had one wish in the world, it would be that my brother learned to love himself and to come to terms with this so he can enjoy what is left of his life. He has suffered too long. Alcoholism has stolen so much from him–it does not seem fair that he should suffer so much. I hate alcoholism–I hate what it does to people’s lives–the intense pain it causes–the absolute misery it leads to.

Tonight my heart is heavy. My brother has an adorable little boy inside him that needs to be let out–that needs to finally heal. Peace, the boy needs to find peace. He deserves to be happy.

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