It’s been over 7 months since I last posted. Quite a bit has happened, most of it good.
At some point my therapy and recovery was for me. Not for therapists or for my family. Not for friends and not for doctors. For me. It. wasn’t immediate, but it was pretty quick. And it didn’t solve everything, but it gave me hope.
In the last three years I whittled it all down to one hobby. Planning my death. Methods, situations, reliabilities. At the worst times it gave me some hope to think it was finally going to be over. At the better times it was still a compulsion. See a bus? Figure out what it would take to get in front of it. Take some medicine, go online and see how much it would take to be lethal. I could find a way to think about suicide in any situation. I would say goodby to places. When we closed the cabin for the season I thought about how it would feel without me there.
Eventually, in little bursts and whispers, I would have another thought. What would my life be like if I changed how I lived my life? It was a hard thought, and scary as hell. Over months and weeks the thought kept coming back. I talked to my therapists about it, I wrote about it, and I thought about it.
Eventually my dark days would enjoy my first hobby. My less dark, eventually brighter days I would think about my second. At some point they were neck and neck. But as time went by and my thoughts about how I was living my life gave way to serious thoughts, the hobby began to be about understanding and planning that change.
In December I turned a corner. Was it the meds? The ketamine? DBT? Therapy? After three years it all ran it’s course? But it wasn’t that simple. I think it was a combination of things. Eventually my thoughts of suicide lessened and lessened, and thoughts of hope gained strength. That hope gave me some drive and motivation. Everything built on itself and eventually I was finding myself happy at times. Hopeful for my future. I had been looking for a job since September, but those first three months I was afraid that if I got one, I wouldn’t be able to do it. Memory issues. Balance issues. Exhaustion. Lingering anxiety. It was hard.
I threw myself into the job hunt. I still felt quite a bit like shit, but I put on a good face and worked hard. I had been on the hunt a few times after layoffs or company implosions. I knew what I was doing. I would land the odd phone interview, and even some extended interviews. But no job. I passed 100 applications posted. That sucked. 500. 700. Finally 1000 applications posted over six months. It’s a brutal market.
And one day I got a great interview and an offer. I’m not anxious, I’m excited. I feel like I can do this job and that I will enjoy it. And I’m making other changes, some serious and others small. I wake up in the morning with more energy, and I feel more confident. Oh, I know it’s not over. This is something I am going to have to manage for the rest of my life. But I finally feel like I may have the tools and life to do that fairly successfully.
I’ve wanted to add to this blog but was either too low or too busy. But now, dear reader, I feel the need to properly put this into storage. I may contribute to it again some day if I need to, you never know.
I wish you all well. I hope this blog helped in some way, and I wish you hope for your future.
Today is my 2-year anniversary of a suicide attempt. I was going to write about that, but it’s been a quite a day, and my therapist loved this anger piece so much that I’m just posting that instead.
When I feel anger it’s like a fire has been suddenly lit. It simultaneously spreads from my head and my chest to envelop my whole being. It makes me irrational. It makes me want to direct that fire somewhere. It can come out of my mouth, through an arm and fist, or simply through words I might not otherwise use against someone.
I was told I can’t use my voice. So I close my mouth and swallow the burning air. The anger doesn’t go away. When it dissipates it’s really just seething into me. Flattening out the last ire I placed there so the new one can fit. Making the pile of unreleased pain even denser.
I was told I can’t slam doors. I flail, not having something to slam. It feels like I’m being tossed around the room looking for something else that’s been detached from its base and thrown to and fro like a puppet. I end up in a chair, feeling the angry marionette strings tangle and crumple into a ball. I will eat that ball and let the strings and wires sit in my stomach and make it hurt.
I was told I can’t break things. My arms want something they can smash against a wall or snap over my knee. Instead, they push me off my chair, stand up and pace. The movement poorly redirected finds its way back to me, and I use those ingredients and make anxiety. The remaining anger and the anxiety make me feel like I’m in a cage, angry at the people who put me there. Even if it’s me.
Now I’m told to express my anger. The “can’t”’s still apply. My screen tells me I should go for a run. Break something, but not the thing you want. Sing, or dance. But there’s no music in the anger I feel. No control over what’s being broken, and surely no foresight to put on my running shoes.
So now I’m pushing the anger down deep inside, but also feeling I’m not doing what I’m supposed to when the fire lights. I’m wrong again another way. Eventually something is likely to break. I hope it doesn’t piss me off.
I’m told I’m doing better. I guess I can feel it. Makes the inside harder to deal with sometimes when the outside looks okay. Doing DBT, EMDR, Ketamine and regular therapy. VNS still zapping along. Mostly used to it, sometimes annoyed by it. Very often sounding like Saw Gerrera when it’s firing.
Summer is summer. Not getting out enough. Wanting to, but it’s difficult. Working a little bit on recording audiobooks but haven’t done any of my own writing in a while. Created a book of short stories and it’s being published through Amazon Kindle Direct, but I’m having motivation issues getting across the very close finish line.
The depression is always there with open arms, ready to welcome me in at any time. The anxiety has two phases. The first is general all the time anxiety. Worrying, negative self talk, some suicidal ideation still, and anxiety based on interactions with other humans. It’s constant, exhausting, and defeating. It also feeds the hopelessness. The second phase, or type, is the one that feels like you’ve been shot in the chest by a sniper. The panic radiates from there and consumes everything. It can come from an actual anxious event, like when you get pulled over for speeding. But it can also come from worrying about something in the future or contemplating your place in the universe. It’s quite overwhelming and if the other kind feeds hopelessness, this one cut right to the core and removes most hope. I have DBT tools to deal with these, and tools to try and prevent or stop them when they happen. I guess I’m getting better at that.
I’m having a hell of a time dealing with getting better. Easing back into the uncertainty of life is hard for the reasons above. But I think there’s a bit of Stockholm syndrome with the depression. Being in the depression pit is deadening and flat but it’s a warm desperation and so familiar you don’t want to let go of it. Being peppier and brighter and doing things like smiling and laughing is great, I guess it adds to my quality of life. But it also makes me worry that everyone will forget what’s going on inside. I still want to smash pictures of me when I see them. I still know how awful I am and always will be. I’m still me. We’re working on all that as part of my PTSD in EMDR.
So there’s an update. As always, I’m going to try harder to post here. I have some inhibition issues about the blog, and my motivation is still in the sub basement so it’s hard to do much. But maybe this time I’ll try.
Ketamine Tears
(for real this time.)
A typical Ketamine sessions these days starts by getting dropped off at the clinic while wife goes shopping or working. I check in, do my PHQ and enhanced GAD inventories and wait for the technician. She comes out, takes the paperwork and we head back to the room. It used to have a great view and light, but they remodeled and now it’s a windowless room. Which isn’t bad, as it’s dim and mellow.
I pick a chair (hospital recliner) and sit down, get my headphones paired to my phone, and she puts the blood pressure cuff on me and readies the shots. Used to be one in the arm, but there’s a shortage and the stuff they get now is once in each thigh. I’ve learned to wear shorts rather than have to drop trou. I cue up my prepared music (very often it’s Beth Gibbons and the Polish National Radio Symphony Orchestra performing Górecki’s Symphony No. 3, the Symphony of Sorrowful song) and hit play. By the time the first shot is in, I’m already feeling it.
The music, by the way, is very important for me. That piece is excellent because it lasts exactly as long as the session. It’s a live recording and literally the applause at the end is my signal that it’s all over. It’s slow moving, builds to crescendos, no serious brass or sharp high note type of stuff. Bonus that it’s extra dark. I’ve tried near-ambient stuff and that was okay but not great. I once used a Radiohead song slowed down something like 800 times. It was good, and fit the parameters but didn’t mesh well with me and I ended up not enjoying things as much. I tried the Disintegration Loops by the American avant-garde composer and sonic artist William Basinski. It’s a tape looped repeatedly and it decays as it’s played, so the already downtempo tune breaks down and becomes more gray noise. It was ok, but not perfect. I keep coming back to Górecki because I’m used to the flow and it matches my most frequent visual elements. Anything with a beat is problematic. Tried Jimmy Van M’s bedrock stuff and it was mellow, but the beat just didn’t work at all.
Within minutes I completely dissociate and I’m off in my own little universe. I’ve described it before. Triangles, recursion, and the center of the universe at an atomic level. While I don’t need to, I usually close my eyes. Still need to write that piece about “Ketamine Tears” – my eyes water a bit during the hour.
Within the hour long treatment the blood pressure cuff takes my blood pressure every 15 minutes. Sometimes I feel it, most times I don’t until the last one, as the effect of the Ketamine is lessening. Apparently for a while there was a specific point where my BP went pretty high. I think it was at the most intense part of the hour, but I’ve never had fear or anger or anything in there.
By the 45 minute mark I’m either actively keeping my eyes closed and just watching what my brain puts in front of me while I listen to the music. It doesn’t feel the same as being “under” and there have been times where I’ve just opened my eyes at that point and picked up my phone.
Once, I came to and found a bunch of paper towel sheets on my chest. Apparently I had tried to drink water but was wearing a mask. Also, there was the time I came out and my legs didn’t work, but I think I’ve already covered that.
At the end of the hour and final BP reading, I’m set. I pack up my phone/earbuds/water and get ready to leave. And then I check to make sure I have everything. And then I check to make sure I have everything. Finally, then I check to make sure I have everything. Foggy doesn’t want to be forgetful. In the beginning, my wife would have me hold her shoulder as she walked me down the hall. Now I just stumble down the hall, head to the front door and my wife is waiting to pick me up.
I’m coherent but stumbling in every way for the rest of the day. Memory, speech, walking. They all feel harder but it gets better as time goes by. I’m not tired, just dopey. Because I feel like that for the rest of the day it’s hard to tell how or if it’s helped.
The next day I’m often brighter. I feel like my eyes are far more open, and things happen more easily. Not so much energized as bright or awake. I’ve had sessions that have broken a streak of horrible depression, just wiped it away. But I’ve also had sessions where it didn’t feel any different. As I write this, I’m on a “day after” and I feel all of that, but I’m also on a social hangover from much family and friends activity around the 4th of July holiday. (Social hangover is just that. It doesn’t mean I regret the social or it didn’t go well, usually, it just means I spent a crap ton of mental and physical energy and I’m dragging.)
Yes, it’s been literally months since I posted anything. My writing light has dimmed. And it’s been a couple hard months, going from normal bad to very bad and back and forth. But not much new.
Google says:
Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing is a form of psychotherapy developed by Francine Shapiro in the 1980s that was originally designed to alleviate the distress associated with traumatic memories such as post-traumatic stress disorder.
The way I describe it to people is something about remembering a traumatic event, talking about how it makes you feel right in that moment, and then remembering a pleasant event while getting an external stimulation (eyes following a light moving side to side, or holding two devices that alternate giving you a slight vibration, or even tapping your shoulders with your hands in a repetitive movement. Once the stimulation is done, blink hard three times and talk about how you feel about the traumatic event again. Rinse, Lather, Repeat.
I got this therapist as a reference from my personal therapist. At first meeting I wasn’t sure about her, but she seemed ok. I was pretty amped up, so that can make judging someone difficult. The second meeting I was actually more jacked up, but I really started to like her. She was funny. She’s fairly old, but dresses well with enough style but not so much it’s generationally inappropriate. But the thing that cemented her as a therapist I could really like was when we were talking about how I was feeling at the end of that second session. One of the things I mentioned was being scared I wasn’t doing it right and it wouldn’t make me any better. She looked over her glasses and said “And scared you’ll get better, right?” And that’s not a concept many people understand, much less will call me out on it.
I had my first proper session, and we started super light. I actually went to my list of bad memories and couldn’t find one that didn’t mess with me just by reading it, so I just picked a memory that wasn’t so horrible, but memorable.
I had trouble coming up with the “pleasant” memory, but rather than trying to think of a memory, I just went into my internal pile of stories. As a storyteller (before it became hip) I’m thinking this part will be the easy part. I even used a memory that wasn’t a happy story, but one about my father that literally made me cry, but it was a happy sad. Sort of.
I did feel different after a few iterations, and it’s difficult to describe. When we started, I felt like the little kid who was feeling so much horrible in the memory. After the process, I felt less connected to the kid, and more like I was looking at the memory.
We only did two memories, and it took a lot of the “happy” stories to do that. So we’ll see how things go in future sessions. Unfortunately it’s almost 3 weeks until my next, but we’re trying to get me into a weekly rhythm. That and I’m short listed for filling cancellations.
I was a mess going in. Disheartened, hopeless, anxious, scared, wanting to flee the office. When I left I was still a good mess, but I guess it all felt just a tiny bit lighter.
After a particular discussion with my therapist, she decided she wanted me to do a “PTSD Checklist for DSM-5 “, or PCL-5. Now, I’ve taken so many mental health inventories that I thought this would be a breeze. Check a few boxes, circle some numbers, boom boom boom I’m all done. But when I opened the inventory, it looked like any other, except for the box for text. Like an essay question. Huh. How’s that work?
From my poking around online, it sounds like the one I filled out was “with criterion.” The description above the text entry area was
Description of the specific, worst stressful experience you are holding in mind
It goes on to say that this box can be used by a clinician and compared against the types of “qualifying event” that are known to be possible causes of PTSD.
Needless to say, that’s quite the intimidating question. Like, let’s just visit the most horrible thing that’s happened to you, write it in this online form, and pop it out into the Internet. Sure, it’s secure, but it’s still scary.
In fact, just doing that, explaining that event and how it affected me, was pretty soul crushing. Something I’ve never ever said out loud or to another person. And one of the most difficult parts was picking an experience. Which one was the very worst? I’m getting anxiety lightning just typing this up. Imagine how the essay went. From that moment on, I have been “Zombie me” as my Wife calls it. It’s the version of me that’s so focused on wanting to curl up in a corner and die that I can’t pay attention to much else. Like talking. You get words out of me, but they’re flat and I’m likely to forget what we’re talking about. I feel like a bottle has been uncorked that shouldn’t have been uncorked. Having this stuff on my mind is a bit like terror, but constant. And talking about a bit of it with my therapist has been troubling, to say the least.
Next appointment with the therapist she gave me a “solid” diagnosis of PTSD. She said PTSDC, in that it’s chronic, but I can’t find any reference to PTSDC at all. There is CPTSD (complex) which sounds a lot like me when I read up on that. Regardless, there are a bunch of things that this diagnosis brings up. I’ll start with the factual and digress into the stuff my depression brain is telling me.
My treatment resistant depression may have something to do with lifetime PTSD.
Addressing the PTSD is something that can be done a few different ways.
Some of these treatments involve digging deep into the traumas in order to deal with them.
These things have been tidily bottled up for decades, and that worked well enough (until my life broke)
Oddly enough, I’ve only given my care team a quarter of what goes into my PTSD, and that’s the light stuff with few details if any. So that’s kinda crazy.
In order to work on this, I’ve been told it will get worse before it gets better. Therapists don’t say things like that. They use positive wording and avoid absolutes, always be on the bright side stuff. So that was scary to hear from them. So that’s a little scary.
I feel like the hole I’ve been trying to climb out of just got doubled in depth.
I’m doing a bit of reliving and feeling like a horrible, bad, undeserving person that I hate.
I feel like the ending of The Perfect Storm when they’ve fought the weather so hard, and finally they see a tiny hole break through. And then it disappears and they get run over by a wave the size of Cincinnati. (Oh, sorry, spoilers)
My psychiatrist offered inpatient (not insisted) and we both agreed that would be counterproductive, as that’s more for safety and stabilization. And I’m too destabilized to even think of hurting myself.
I feel horrible for my family. I was going to say like I’d taken a great leap backward, but this stuff is totally new and quite devastating, so I’m just sorry.
While I’m wide open on my mental health stuff, and talking or blogging about it, and wanting to help others like myself, this PTSD is technically still in it’s bottle, and behind a very high fence, and I’m never going to be sharing any of it. My wife doesn’t even know the details or depths of it.
Rambling post of a madman. but that’s where I’m at. Thanks..
The remote diagnosis and treatment of patients by means of telecommunications technology.
-definition of telemedicine
My therapist has challenged me with writing a post for the blog, despite my depression induced writer’s block. For better or worse, here it is.
I’ve had my fair share of appointments. I used to only have one per month. Other times in my life (like right now) sixteen or more per month.
In the days pre-COVID, everything was in person. For meds, you needed to see the psychiatrist. For therapy, the psychologist or counselor. You go to your GP (general practitioner) for a physical, and of course that’s in person. In fact, I can’t think of any medical appointment that I would attend in the past that wasn’t at a physical location with the actual care giver.
Then COVID came around, and suddenly we’re all going online to take care of our health care and mental health issues. On one hand, it’s nice not to have to actually go somewhere, but I do miss the excuse to go through a drive through and get some overpriced coffee for a treat. In this post I’ll be giving my experience and opinions on the good and the bad of the virtual care world.
In person care
First, the pro category.
I enjoy meeting my care team in person when possible. I feel like they can get a better sense of me, my current mood, and pick up on any finer body language I may be throwing at them. It also helps me build trust. I haven’t had many I didn’t like, but the few that I wasn’t comfortable with have been in person. I don’t know if that means I have a poorer intuition with the few members of the team I haven’t actually met in “real life.” I not only build relationships with my primary docs, but with the staff, too. I like it when I go to check in and they know me by name. It makes it easier to get me checked in, but it also makes me feel a bit more like someone the organization cares about. The nursing staff are often there long enough to recognize me, or at least I can recognize them. If you’re going to get a shot, it’s better to get it from someone you feel you know than from a complete stranger.
Paperwork and diagnostics are easier in the physical world. When I get my PHQ-9 and GAD-7 (mental health inventories) they usually give me a clipboard. More novelty, but I like it. Meds, too, are easy to procure when you’re coming out of a physical visit. Pop on over to the local pharmacy, or in my case if I’m at the hospital I can just stop by the pharmacy there, prescriptions all ready to pick up.
For my GP who is downtown, I get to walk around and pretend to be a contributing member of society, maybe get lunch at one of the places I used to frequent. For those suburban appointments it gives me an opportunity for that drive through coffee I mentioned, or just driving around listening to music too loud. It can be a great way to kill an afternoon.
When it comes to doing group in person, I think there are some important advantages. Group therapy usually has some rules about what you can or cannot say in order to protect privacy, but more often prevent triggering behaviors. Rather than saying you were researching suicide, you have to say you were engaging in a problem behavior. It makes sense. But before and after group, or on a break in the middle if it’s a long one, you can actually chat with your group-mates. Not to talk about anything the program doesn’t want you talking about, but just life stuff. I’ve made more than one good friend on those breaks. That’s something I miss about virtual.
And the Cons..
Of course, if you don’t want to kill an afternoon, that can be problematic. Those in-person appointments require you to actually get there. So tack on a half an hour or whatever before and after the appointment. What was an hourlong appointment now takes up two hours of your time. This also makes scheduling the appointment more difficult. Can’t just slot it in an hour between meetings. It can actually block three of your hour slots, if you have any. And mileage and gas and whatnot counts too.
Remember what I said about prescriptions? The pro is also the con. If you don’t have them routed to your favorite pharmacy, you need to take the script there, and then wait for come back. Wait in line, as well. I actually get mine mailed to me, so I avoid all of this at the cost of waiting one or two days. And yeah, it’s only one or two days, if you can believe it. Something is super efficient in that system. Of course, I expect my next refills will take two weeks now that I’ve jinxed myself.
Getting dressed is another con to the in-person appointment. That sounds like a joke, but if you’re in a state where getting out of bed is difficult, taking a shower and putting on clothes (hope you did your laundry) can be a herculean task. If you have social anxieties, going out can trigger those.
Ok, enough haranguing on reality.
Let’s get Virtual
Most points are just opposite mentions of the above. If that’s an actual phrase. So these are pros and cons, all muddled up
You only have to technically dress from the waist up. Pajamas and the largest sweater I own seems to work for me. That doesn’t do a lot for my motivation to shower, unfortunately. And I find when I shower and dress at least I feel a bit more like a human being. Also, it doesn’t get me out of the house. While it’s only an hour block I get anxious beforehand and don’t want to go anywhere in case I’m late. I don’t get the return home trip to blow off steam or have some physical activity. As a result I’m usually pretty down, deflated, and crash hard after calls. You just can’t win for losing, I guess.
You don’t really get to see the care team or your group therapy peers very well. Yeah, there’s on screen, but I usually run in gallery view, so they’re at most half the display. And I find if I turn the view to only one specific person I feel like a creepy guy. That, and a quarter of the time it seems like someone is not showing video that day. Or is in such a way that you can’t really see them very well. (I’m looking at you poorly backlit with a virtual background on..) As for care team members, I can see them but I wonder how well they can see me. My DBT coach did say she noticed I avoid eye contact when I talk about safety or suicidal ideation, so apparently they can see somewhat well.
The video platforms are varied and extreme. Google Meet is quick and dirty, but seems sensitive to network issues. Zoom feels heavy handed and, well, heavy. My psychiatrist’s clinic uses their own flavor, and it’s super simple to the point of too simple. You never know if you’re waiting or need to click somewhere, or what. Quality is okay though. The end result is that it feels like a different experience for almost every clinic you work with.
The technical skills of the people on the other end of the line can be a real pain, too. The ones who don’t know how to mute, or less annoyingly don’t know how to unmute. Good microphones and bad microphones make it feel like everyone doesn’t have an equal ability to share. One peer has a mic so bad I just can’t understand anything they are saying. I don’t know if a facilitator has mentioned it, but I certainly am not. Which makes me wonder – how does my mic sound? It’s a high end mic and I record myself often, but on that platform do I sound like a duck talking through a toilet paper tube? It’s like wondering if you have bad breath.
That paperwork I used to do in the clinics are either no longer used, or done through an online tool. If you thought video platforms were a mess of differences, online assessment tools are even worse. Did you finish the assessment? Or did it not register so you have to do it again? Got your login credentials handy? I had one clinic switch systems and I’m honestly not sure which system was better or worse. What I am sure of is the fact that I have yet another account to keep track of. It’s health information, so you don’t want your browser to save your credentials, but LastPass doesn’t always remember to save your information. And if it does, you may have three different entries to pick from next time you log in. (Tip: It’s not the one you chose)
Meds are another one of those things that can go either way. As I mentioned mine are mailed, so the doc just puts it in the system and it shows up in the mailbox a couple days later. But if it’s something new I’m wanting to start right away, or a med for an acute issue, waiting for it isn’t always a comfortable option.
Summary
Honestly, virtual just isn’t real life. It’s easier, yeah, but that doesn’t make it better. The unhealthy side of me likes virtual so I can hermit better. But the other unhealthy side of me likes getting my Lattes in the drive through. I feel a bit like this was a bit of a pointless post, as virtual appears to be here to stay. I still get to go in for therapies that do something to me, like Ketamine, electroconvulsive therapy or upping my VNS. At least until they figure out how to do that remotely..
What do you think? Big fan of either direction? Got any good horror stories to tell – or better yet success stories? Take the fifteen microseconds it takes to share something in the comments. Thank you for reading!
Often, when I’m standing in the shower making the most important decisions of my life (i.e. staring off into space) I have helpful thoughts, and not so helpful thoughts. Today I had a thought that comes back to me often. Maybe I don’t have depression and anxiety – maybe I’m just lazy?” My mind loves that one, and usually just runs with it. The depression is just being tired. The anxiety is just not sucking it up and dealing with the world like everyone else.
But then little thoughts start jumping in with proofs. Reasons why maybe I am actually depressed and anxious. Things like…
The pile of meds I take everyday
The enormous pile of meds that weren’t effective
The Psychiatrists I see on a regular basis seem to think I an afflicted
My personal therapist, who’s been in the deepest reaches of my mind and assures me that, yes, I have some serious issues
The Care team at the Treatment Resistant Depression clinic – for even seeing me
.. and their prescription of Ketamine
.. and their recommendation and assistance in fitting me with a Vagus nerve stimulator (VNS)
.. and their medication prescriptions working in concert with my regular Psychiatrist
The tremor in my hands and legs from the most effective medication I’m on
That VNS, which is surgically implanted in my chest and neck. It gives me a zap every five minutes for 30 seconds
Two rounds of Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT)
One round of Transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS)
The feelings of failure, dread, and hopelessness
CBT, DBD, IOT, PHP, MAOI, and every other acronym I can think of
You know what? That list doesn’t matter. You don’t need to prove it to yourself. If you have depression, you have depression. If you have anxiety, you have anxiety. Depression imposter syndrome feels very real to me, but I look at the evidence and feel how I’m feeling, and I’m assured it is real. Which is actually depressing, but that’s a different blog post. Don’t let those little shower (or elsewhere) thoughts try to impact your disease. They’re just thoughts going through your head, getting washed down the drain as they continue on.
My application for Social Security Disability has been approved. The fact that it took one month to the day for them to approve it tells me it’s fairly obvious to those who make decisions. Don’t have the details yet, but it will absolutely help us financially. I haven’t talked money much on the blog, but my wife and I were making good money in the tech and the health care industries. When I lost my job, it effectively cut the family income in half. Which has caused some stress. Disability won’t really make a huge change, but any at all will help.
On the other hand, it’s hit me fairly hard. Harder than I expected it to. I’m government certified disabled. It sounds like a permanent affliction, and the reality of it isn’t doing much to argue that point. It’s had me surfing for jobs online, and my career just doesn’t have anyone who works part time. I can’t handle full time yet. The fact that I was looking is progress, as a few months ago that would have sent me into a death spiral just thinking about it. Honestly, it was a pointless act, looking at jobs. Not only do I have the half time limitation, but so much of my technical knowledge has simply vanished. I would have to come up with a completely different use for my skills — and before you say consulting, think about the social and financial skills required for that.
VNS is going fine, had to back down to 1.0, or therapeutic level. It was just too irritating, and it made headaches feel worse. Still has some irritation, but more annoying than painful. Still doing Ketamine once a month and it’s something I really look forward to. For about an hour I’m not me and I’m not depressed. You know that viral video of the phone falling down the stairwell? That’s what it’s like. Only different.
I added that stupid “Positive” section last post and I guess I have to keep up with it. I’d say it might be DBT. I’m not knowingly using tools yet, but when I have to report in I can usually find a couple that I did use. Happy?
Don’t want to follow up with a negative section but I can’t think of anything else positive. Sorry, not sorry.
What positives have your accumulated this week? Throw a comment down below!
I’ve been incrementally turned up to 1.25, while 1.0 is the therapeutic target. Anything above that is a benefit, as long as it can be tolerated. Though I think next appointment (2 weeks) I’m going to ask to be set back to 1.0 for a bit longer. I haven’t been getting used to 1.25 as quickly as the other settings.
The sensation is actually less complicated than some of the previous. I can feel it “ramping up” and then it’s a strong feeling like an uncomfortable twisting feeling at the neck. That sensation fades over the following thirty seconds. It’s accompanied by a small choking feeling and something like heart burn, which is annoying more than anything else.
I have found myself using the magnet to temporarily disable the VNS much more often than any other time. I’ve got a loose magnet but I’ve also got one on the underside of a watch band, so it looks like a wristwatch on my right wrist. Actually, it is a wristwatch on one of the provided wrist magnets. But if I’m in public and I feel it kick in while I’m talking, I just reach up to my left shoulder as if to scratch it and the movement puts the magnet in just the right place. So subtle. My scars are so subtle now that Wife actually wondered what that redness was on my chest, until she remembered.
As for me..
I’m introducing a new section, positive news.
Positive
I had a trip to the east coast (the same one I did last year, without the following suicide attempt) which was good. I got to spend a ton of time with my daughter, we really get on well. She has a passion for road trips to match my own.
I got to see my brother and his growing family. With frozen custard!
I spent five days with my oldest sister. No plans except some day trips to various parts of New York City. The rest of the time was spent doing absolutely nothing. Some writing, a bit of playing music, and a ton of time having really good chats with my sister and her husband.
I’ve have had some freelance work contracts come through, including a new one that’s part of a series. I think I’ve made dozens of dollars this year. So not much. But it’s something, I guess.
Back to our regularly negative blog..
Logistically (therapies, schedules, DBT) things are the same for me, it feels like everything is unspooling lately. I feel I’ve broken in half after/despite the peace of my trip to the East Coast. Since then I haven’t been able to write, play music, or even take the Vespa out and wander around. While these are usually escapes for me, where I can forget myself for a bit, they no longer work. It’s like something just came and removed my ability to enjoy the last things I could.
I’ve been thinking about the “anniversary” all week. Remembering the hospital and so on. So much has happened in a year, and yet nothing feels different, except the various side effects. I reread my journal from my hospitalization and I was so upbeat on release. I had plans and schedules and an attitude. That all seems so foreign to me. I can’t remember if that was genuine or I was just saying the things I needed to say to get out of there. I do remember the day I came home Wife picked me up and it was a pretty day. Still warm like summer, but hope for sweaters was there. And we went home and sat around the table and had dinner in the fading light of the day. Just like before. And after.
It feels like everyone else seems to be getting on with their lives. Everybody knows neighbor X is a baker, neighbor Y is a salesman, and neighbor me doesn’t work because he’s got the depression. That normalization is one of the most isolating things I’ve felt yet. Somehow I keep thinking I’m the old, robust me (with some weight lost, even!) but that I’ve been temporarily hobbled by my issues. As this wears on it really feels like this is it though, how it’ll always be.
(In rereading this, that’s a lot of feels. It took about three hours for me to write this, should have been easier.)
Today is the first anniversary of my suicide attempt. In just this past year alone I have:
done an inpatient stay
a partial hospitalization
an intensive outpatient program
started ketamine therapy
a full course of ECT
had a VNS surgically implanted
started DBT
applied for disability.
Spent 75+ hours in therapy
Spent 96+ hours in group therapy
Changed medications at least a dozen times
(And a huge thank you and I love you to my wife. She was by my side for all of that.)
Three years ago last week I attended my first PHP, essentially marking this major depressive episode’s official start, though it was growing for months.
I have a wide variety of feelings this weekend. Hope is not high on the list, but I suppose it counts for something that it is on the list.
a Scarlet D 