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.
It’s been a long three years.
I will preface this with the fact that this is a catch up post, and the latest “real” post is coming next.
Started the emsam patch, an MAOI. It does not have the usual dietary restrictions, but any higher dose they switch me to will have them. It reads like my grocery list of favorite foods. No ill effect from the patches so far. Sometimes they leave a red mark, and I change locations enough that it doesn’t get too bad. I was working on a series of red blotches from one bicep to the other, across my chest. Didn’t quite get there. On ketamine days I usually go “iron man” style with the patch right in the middle of my upper chest area.
I am back to full strength on my sleep med, and the vertigo has returned with some additional random dizziness. But I’m getting to sleep eventually. Forgot to take my night meds one night and was wide awake until near-dawn. That was a hard day.
Therapist says I need to buy in. believe, and try. Fight, even. And I understand that. But to be honest I gave up caring a couple weeks back. This is me forever and I can’t find the physical strength to fight it. I’m just like a weed in a stream, totally letting the current shape me.
I have finished the intensive outpatient program, and finished with complete therapy burnout. So now my structure is much less, which means I have to come up with my own routine and somehow gather the self discipline to stick to it. I think we all know that’s not going to happen easily or soon. But I’ll try.
Talking about everything with family, friends and therapist feels good but usually sends me deeper. The more I talk about the depression or focus on it, the more I feel it. It does feel like not talking about it and just doing a hobby is avoiding the issue, but sometimes I think I need that.
Finally, every moment of the day in my head I am saying “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” to everyone and everything. I feel guilty for making Wife go through this with me, as well as my whole family and network of friends. I feel like I am a sinkhole of emotion and resources.