Sunday, June 29, 2014

The Latest On Pharma

They've got me on Zoloft now. I haven't really been on a true anti-depressant. Well I did try Prozac back in the beginning but it didn't seem to be doing anything for me. I have hope for the Zoloft. I'm still taking the Haldol and Depakote, too. The thing is, the team of doctors doesn't seem to agree on what I am actually going through, here. What exactly is wrong with my brain. One doc, the one on staff inside the psych ward, had the thought that at age 43 I've become bi-polar. It's not impossible, there is such a thing called late-onset bi-polar. Bi-polar is usually something diagnosed when you're in your twenties. As for the manic-depressive suggestion, I am not going through any mania. Just depression. The other thought is that it's psychosis with depression and anxiety. The other thought is that it's anxiety and depression. But then there was that one psychotic episode back in February...can that happen again? Was that a one-time thing? Nobody knows.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Some Conversations

Some conversations come too early, some conversations come too late, and others never happen at all. I came dangerously close to remaining ignorant of what one conversation with my mom would reap, until I called her last night. I cried the whole time, but I believe this is what you call a breakthrough.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Just don't get in bed.

Just don't get in bed.
Just don't get in bed.
Just don't get in bed.
Just don't get in bed.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Baseball Therapy

I miss my mom. Every time I try to write about her and the problems we have, I get blocked up and can't do it. I don't know what to say about it except to say that I don't know how to repair our relationship and it's just making me so sad. My attention span is shot. I can't follow any television anymore, except the news, and movies are right out. I think it's all wrapped up in my inability to pick up the phone and talk to my mother. I don't know what to say.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

They Can't All Be Winners

The number of times I say "why isn't this easier" should by now have learned me. It just isn't easy, okay? And I have got to quit whining about it. Other people are undergoing their own trials and tribulations and we have all got our crosses to bear. Today's wake-up this morning wasn't good, and by that I mean the anxiety set in immediately; my feel-good mantra's weren't working. So despite the beautiful weather and the calmness of the day all I did was lay in a porch chair dosed on Klonopin and feel sorry for myself. Today was not my proudest. I did all my "stuff," my routine. Exercise bike, walk. Though I couldn't face the sinkful of dishes. Just could not deal. Joey cleaned the kitchen because he's a rock star. I'm babbling because I'm out of sorts and I need a day to reassemble myself. Sorry guys, they can't all be winners.

Friday, June 20, 2014

No Joke

Today all I can think about is a friend who is going through a similar hard time, taking care of a relative with Alzheimer's. She wrote something today that resonates with me, about all the times in the past, before it happens to you, when you can breezily joke about a thing. The times when she's forgotten something and said, "oh, Alzheimer's." Now it's no joke and this is probably the hardest thing she and her husband have ever, and hopefully will ever, have to undertake.

I've had friends with depression. I didn't understand the crushing low, the inability to face a sinkful of dishes, the need to take a Klonopin before taking a phone call. To those friends, I'm sorry I ever had any doubts about the serious nature of depression and anxiety. I didn't understand, and I apologize for any "just snap out of it" kinds of thoughts I ever had about what you were going through. I truly am very very sorry. If this blog is going to stand for anything, it's going to show the real pain of depression and anxiety. It's no joke.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

This Morning

For some reason I wake up extremely anxious on the days when I see my therapist. I don't know why Maybe it's because this is a trip to the same facility, it's the one where I stay when I need to be hospitalized. Maybe it's because today it means I have to deal with shit. I don't do well when I get in there, I tend to clam up and say "fine" a lot, when she asks me gentle probing questions that I have no answers for, then I feel stupid for wasting everyone's time. Therapy sounds like it should be easy, but actually participating in therapy is one of the hardest things I have ever done. What do I say? Do I talk about my mother? My unresolved anger towards her? My love for her and deep respect for having raised babies when she was so young? My college years and having been kicked out for not having enough money to stay? Losing my job and the parallels I've found between my boss, my college and my mother? Where do I begin, how do you even do it? In an hour and a half I'll be sitting in the chair again with my anxiety ratcheting up and not knowing what to say. How do you fix a person in fifty minute time slots?

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Today and Later Today

This morning I woke up and put the "half smile" on my face per the group therapy instructions, I said "Birds. Breeze. Be Here Now." In my bed in the morning, "birds, breeze, be here now" have been a kind of mantra to calm myself down when I wake up with anxiety. I hear the birds, feel the breeze and I don't have to worry about anything, is what I mean. It calms me down when I'm anxious.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Behind Three Doors (part 2)

(continued from part 1)

With the winter Olympics on the small overhead TV every night, my first stay on the psych ward was imbued with an eerie sense of monumental circumstance. The Olympics, this universal worldwide event that interrupts all normal broadcasting and takes over everything, was happening at the same time as this catastrophic storm in my head. My normal broadcasting was interrupted too. I was in this strange place with strange people and at night they checked on me with a flashlight every fifteen minutes. I found out later that's suicide watch. That's what they mean by "suicide watch," a term whose literal meaning has skated right past me all these years.

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Behind Three Doors

The second time I was admitted to the psych ward I decided to count: one, two, three secure sets of double doors before you reach the lockdown ward. After you're behind the first set of doors you need a staff member with a special code to let you out. I went in three times, under three different circumstances. The first time I have little recollection of, but the bits I do remember are supercharged. Being handcuffed to a gurney in an ambulance, running down my front stairs wearing only and old pink robe. These are visions all mixed together in some slick roundabout in my memory, actually a prolonged psychotic episode that took place over a week, but in my mind it was one night. I don't know how I got to the psych ward that time, I don't know how many doors.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Me and the Loony Bin

The first time I went into the mental hospital was when I experienced a psychotic break. This was in early February 2014. That night, I was hallucinating and running around the house. I was naked and I tried to run outside. It had snowed, maybe it was still snowing, but when I ran downstairs to unlock the door and get out, in my mind I had to...HAD to...get outside. There was some compelling reason and I was determined.

Joey had to wrestle me to the floor and I remember thinking "he is using all his strength. He's so strong, I'll never make it." But in general I don't remember a lot of it. I remember that I was screaming for help. I remember racing thoughts of paranoia and persecution. I thought some of my friends were gods. I thought others were demons. We were all doomed. The police and ambulance had to come and take me away. I ended up in handcuffs on a gurney in an ambulance.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me and I am still not sure how to process it. In that state I was convinced that everyone was involved in a massive plot against me. It was terrifying and I never, ever want to go back to that nightmare place. Poor Joe.

It was 7 days in the psych ward, they had me on suicide watch and they let me out with the caveat that I attend a women's group therapy program. So I went, 10am to 3pm for a week. There I learned a great deal about how violently stress and anxiety can impact a person. I hadn't realized how losing my  job so suddenly in November had started a downward spiral into depression and anxiety. It's no joke. The women there are incredible, everyone has a totally different story but yet it's all the same, somehow. I can't say enough about how much it has helped me.

I would end up in the psych ward two more times, and in group therapy two more times. This most recent was in early May. The ward is not a place I ever want to go back to again. Whenever I feel exhausted from the sheer effort that this is all taking, the depression weighing on me like the proverbial ton of bricks, when I think about giving up, it's the thought that, short term, "giving up" probably means I go back to the ward, that helps keep me on track with my routine. That, and my friends constantly encouraging me.

I'm considering writing more about my experience on the ward if people are interested.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Where Is Lexi Kahn?

No matter how much I try to stop ruminating, there come the thoughts again. Why didn't I do this, why did I pick that, why have I made these choices. I'm 44 years old and I feel like I'm starting over again. I haven't got a job and I haven't got the mindset to get nor keep one, I have no income and the bills are piling up. I feel like a total failure. These are the thoughts that won't stop today, despite the sunny day and the music playing and my loving husband doing everything possible to hold me together. I feel so hopeless. I sat out on the porch to gather my positive affirmations and deep breathe "in the moment" and stop the ruminations, but all that happened was I fell asleep. It was a nice nap in the Sunday afternoon, but sleep only goes so far to help. Where is my strength, where is my resolve, where are my power tools to break down this wall? Where is Lexi Kahn?

Friday, June 6, 2014


I flunked Thursday. It was raining, I was PMSy, then the power went out at around three. Nstar said it was the whole neighborhood (a damaged wire, no doubt waterlogged) and wouldn't be back on until 5:30. All I'd been doing was watching The Ghost Whisperer, and only halfway paying attention anyway. So I gave up. Forget it, I said. There's no point. I got into bed and didn't get up again until 8:15. My bedtime -- or at least the time when I take my night meds - is 9. I was back asleep again by 9:30. So basically I slept away the latter half of the day. I just couldn't cope. Even with all the CBT and DBT and books, not all the days are good. This one wasn't. Maybe it gets easier to have more good days in a row. I hope it gets easier because living this way is a drag.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Outside and Inside Rain

It's raining outside, and it's raining in my head, and I'm afraid that no amount of deep breathing is going to help me today. I'm using all of the positive affirmation emails and blog comments from so many people, absorbing the words and taking them deep into my soul all to keep me bolstered with hope that anyone can get through depression.

As long as one keeps busy.

Despite the urge to go back to bed forever.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Point Me Towards Tomorrow

Over-the-fence spontaneous chat with kindly neighbor who empathizes makes for a good distraction on a day when I'm feeling the jitters. This is a guy who drove me to the psych ward the second time I went, when I was in a state of tearful despair and couldn't even cope. I thanked him again. "What are friends for?" he said. If you can give a ride to the loony bin on five minutes' notice, you are a friend for life.

Baby Steps

Yesterday I needed a Klonopin to get through it. The day, I mean.

The problem is that life doesn't stop for depression and anxiety issues. You still have to deal with shit. For example, I have this student loan that's due, $122 every month, and I'm out of money in my bank account. It's just down to pennies. The well is dry. The $122 is the bucket that's going to reach mud in the bottom of the well. For that, I just have to make a phone call to the student loan people and figure out if I can get a deferment or forbearance, only every time I do I get completely wigged out and can't function. This is the anxiety.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Thank You

I got this book from the library called "The Mindful Way Through Depression," and it's been very helpful. It's even got a CD for mindful meditation exercises.