I thought once my meds were increased I wouldn't have the depressive episodes anymore. I was wrong. I was extremely agitated on Friday from the second I woke up. That persisted throughout the day and I was really fidgety. I couldn't sit still and my hands always had to be holding something or fidgeting with something. When I did sit, I had the Jimmy legs. Sitting still just wasn't an option. This felt more like anxiety than anything else. Anxious over what, I don't know. Maybe it's because I am selling my rental property. I know in my gut that is the right decision. It's the only real stressor in my life and I'll be happy when I no longer have to worry about what comes next relative to the house. For now, I always have to wonder what's next.
I woke up Saturday and didn't want to get out of bed. I was more agitated and fidgety than I was yesterday. I knew I had to stay busy to stay out of my own head so I went to the gym as I normally do. I pretended everything was okay. Until it wasn't. I had a few minutes to just sit down and I was starting to break down. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be invisible again. I wanted all of this to stop. It's difficult to be comforted when I'm in these lows. Ming tries to console me and tell me everything is going to be okay, but I feel like I am in hell. My brain is trying to kill me. It knows it has me on the ropes and I can't protect myself.
Sunday was much of the same. I spent the day with Ming on our 1-year anniversary. I wouldn't have made it this far without her support. She tries incredibly hard to help me in any way she can. I can see the pain in her eyes sometimes. She hates seeing me struggle. I can see and feel her looking at me, wishing she could make it all go away. I wish that too. Not for me, but for her. I feel like I am punishing her when I have bad days. I was able to keep my agitation in check throughout most of the day, but I snapped a couple times. One thing I am starting to notice about the depressive episodes is that I focus on the smallest of details. Shit that is absolutely irrelevant to most people, is the most important thing in my brain. Any sort of chaos or disorder causes me to lash out.
I talked to my mom Sunday night and finally came clean. I told her about my diagnosis and that I am currently in a depressive episode. Of course, she said she felt like there was something wrong. She noted the number of head injuries I had as a child and young adult. I have no doubt they have something to do with what is happening to me now. My brain chemistry is off and I'm sure getting kicked in the head and bashed over the head with a pan and a solid glass cookie jar didn't help. "This is your brain after several concussions. Any questions?" My mom revealed to me that she once suffered from depression. It started around when I experienced my last head injury. It's understandable that a mother would be depressed seeing her son lying unconscious in a hospital bed for several days. His scholarship gone. His college education potentially at an end. That makes a lot of sense. Like many other people, she asked me to call her if I ever reached a point I felt like there was no way out. I explained to her that calling someone is the last thing I'm thinking about. My focus is on getting through the day and hoping the next day is better.
The voices haven't started again yet, but I fear it's only a matter of time. I don't know what they will say or if they will say anything. Most of what I hear is garbled nonsense. I only catch the occasional word and they are meaningless. I have tried putting them together in a sentence to see if there is a message or something to decipher. I'm hearing multiple dinner party conversations at once. "Ball, guarantee, diving board, water, plate..." All nonsense, but the words aren't my own. That much I am sure.
I spoke with a medication specialist Monday morning. It was soul crushing. We finished the call devising an emergency action plan. I need an emergency action plan now. I have to know where the nearest emergency room is. I have to know the number for the suicide prevention hotline. I have to know where the nearest treatment center is so I can voluntarily check myself in if things get too bad. This is what my life has become. I cried for several minutes after the call. I knew I was mentally ill. I knew I was sick. Now, I feel crazy. I feel like people have to protect me from myself. I have to get blood work and some other tests to figure out just how crazy I am. Maybe I'm not crazy. Maybe I am just more sick than I think I am. More tests. More drugs. More of this. More of that. More more more more of everything.
Depression is the most isolated feeling I have ever experienced. I don't see a way out. I can't see shit in here. I keep sinking like a boat anchor with no ocean floor in sight. The only way out is hope. I hope tomorrow is better. I take the drugs my doctors give me and I hope. I hope they help stop the pain. I talk to people about what I'm going through and I hope. I hope they can talk me out of the abyss I am in. Help me see the light. I try to hide and I hope. I hope no one sees me. I hope no one talks to me. I put my mask on and I hope. I hope no one discovers me or finds out who I really am. I cry and I hope. I hope that if I cry enough my brain will stop trying to slowly kill me from the inside. I hope it will show me some mercy. My brain is relentless though. It knows no mercy.
Every episode feels worse than the last. My brain is scrambled. My brain is like a Swiss watch when it's right. Dialed in and precise. Everything running on time and exact. It's like a knockoff Rolex when it's wrong. The kind you buy from a guy on the corner wearing a trench coat. Numbers falling off the face. A 12 where the 11 should be. An extra 3 for good measure. Time slowly ticking away, but just slightly out of sync with real time. An alternate reality. Every day of depression feels like a lost day of my life. Smoking without the buzz. Drinking benders when I was black out drunk waking up on a bus on my way to Mexico. When will this end? How can I make it stop? Talk to someone, they say. Talk talk talk talk...talking too much...not talking enough...talk...talk. I talk to myself...more talking...talking to no one...more talking to myself. Talk myself into this or out of that...I talk and I talk. This episode is taking a lot out of me. I am a shell of myself. My shell is cracking. It is Tuesday and tomorrow is more talking...talk to this person...talk to that person...no more talking.
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