Some days, my need for acceptance and praise is really disturbing.

abuse, major depression, ptsd, rapid-cycle bipolar disorder, self-harm, suicidal ideation, therapy

I say this because of the things I know beyond a doubt: I am attractive, there is nothing wrong with my body. But I need reassurance about the physical things because of the most important parts I can’t accept—the thought that I am worthy and lovable and worthwhile and that I don’t ruin everything I touch.

*

I had a particularly disturbing dream last night that D. suddenly decided he didn’t love me, never had. I told him I was feeling suicidal and his response was something along the lines of, “Actually, that’s the best thing that could happen to me right now.” I woke up in a panic, convinced that it had been real. I had some terrible dream-within-a-dream-within-a-dream experience last night, and it’s left me a little rattled. I know the dream is just my subconscious vomiting out the particularly horrible bits of all the abuse I’ve taken—the dream situation is ripped almost verbatim from something that happened countless times in a past relationship—but it’s still upsetting.

It’s upsetting because after all these years and how far I’ve come, I still feel like a victim. It’s upsetting because my childhood would have fucked me up enough without the awful part in my teens where I realized that even if someone tells you they love you, they can still hurt you terribly. In some cases, they can hurt you more after they’ve said it.

*

A stranger once complimented me on my eyes and followed it with, “But there’s something unquiet about them.” It took me a long time to realize that everything I’ve gone through has turned me into a haunted house. If the eyes are windows to the soul, then the restlessness in mine is because of all the horrible memories, all the ghosts.

*

D. and I were discussing “Inception” the other day. “I wonder what my subconscious would look like,” I said. He replied, “I’m pretty sure it would be full of monsters.”

*

I’ve been reading a lot about self-harm and how it relates to prior abuse (the book I’m currently reading focuses on the theory that childhood abuse is completely to blame, but for me, it’s been more of a cumulative effect). I have to go slow because it’s very triggering for me, but it’s also hauling some useful anecdotes up from the depths and forcing me to confront a lot of hard truths about myself—about what happened to me during the first twenty years of my life and how those experiences have shaped almost everything about me.

*

I’m heading back to therapy on Thursday, and I’m feeling particularly anxious about it. I’m not sure what to expect; I already know my prognosis for ever coming out of the dissociative state is pretty grim, and that it’s likely I’ll be in therapy for the rest of my life. We have to move so maddeningly slow—working through the trauma without awakening my defense mechanisms is like trying to sneak past a sleeping dragon in a cave. If it shifts in its sleep or makes a sound, we have to go back and find a safe hiding place until it passes.

My therapist is wonderful. She’ll start off by prompting me to share what’s been going on in my life, and then she’s somehow able to zero in on what I need to talk about during that session. She reassures me that it’s okay if I can only handle remembering things for a minute or two—she says it’s a lot healthier than going at it too hard and making the dissociation even worse.

I’ve gotten pretty good about just accepting the way things are, the numbness and the detachment. But there are times when it makes me want to scream, when I just want to feel something other than all the pain and numbness. I want to be in the moment all the time instead of faking it. I want hearing “I love you” during sex to feel good instead of scaring the shit out of me and causing me to shut down.

I want someone to turn me off and fix me. I wish I had a factory default switch, that I could go back to being an infant and be born into a situation that wouldn’t cause so much damage. People say I’m lucky; the abuse has given me an endless source of inspiration for writing, and most people with “normal”/stable home lives have to work harder.

To that, I say: Fuck you so very, very much. If any one of those people had to live like this even for a day, they’d probably end up putting a gun to their head before sundown. No one wants to live like this. No one.

*

I know this post has jumped all over the damn place; please bear with me, as I’ve been dealing with some pretty brutal cycling as of late. I want to close this on a positive note, so let’s just appreciate that I made it through two suicide attempts, nine months of self-harm, and a lot of substance abuse—and that’s just this year.

I want to live the rest of my life without ending up in a hospital. I want to make it through this without dying by my own hand. I want to be happy, if I can’t be completely well ever again.

Dissociated Press is finally on Facebook!

major depression, rapid-cycle bipolar disorder

WordPress is a bastard, so here’s the full link: https://www.facebook.com/couldhavegonemad?fref=ts

I’ll be posting book recommendations/what I’m currently reading (research for the memoir), brain droppings that aren’t quite long or substantial enough to warrant their own blog post, and whatever else pops into my head (so in other words, anything goes). I’d love it if you guys would “like” the page and jump into the fray by asking questions or whatever it is people do on Facebook nowadays.

Transition.

a cure for what ails you, major depression, medication, ptsd, rapid-cycle bipolar disorder, three hopeful thoughts

At this point, I can’t say that I’m cured or that my bipolar is in remission, but something feels different. My mood swings aren’t as intense as they were before, and “Flat/numb” has replaced “Depressed” as my default mood state. I still can’t remember the last time I felt truly happy without also feeling some underlying negative emotion, but I actually feel hopeful.

My PTSD is still pretty bad. There’s some parking lot construction going on right outside our apartment, and when I had to walk past it yesterday to get home, I flinched, jumped about a foot, and had to clamp my hands down over my ears to get through the unrelenting roar of construction equipment. I felt embarrassed and remember thinking, “Normal people don’t act like this.” But I’m trying not to judge my reactions and emotions. My therapists over the years have all encouraged me to just experience them without having a knee-jerk response and assigning a morality to everything.

My derealization/depersonalization is present, as always, and I’ve been having unnerving spikes in severity that have unusual triggers…if I have my head turned or tilted a certain way and I say something/something is said to me, for example, the detached feeling increases tenfold and sticks around until I finally go to sleep. It seems to only happen in the late afternoon/early evening, but I’m still not sure what to make of it. But in spite of this, I feel like I’m finally starting to recover. I’ll deal with the emotional bit first; then, I’ll try to tackle my dissociation.

Medications: Lorazepam, 1 mg tablets*, 37.5 mg Effexor, 400 mg lamotrigine/Lamictal.

* I think it’s important to note that I can’t remember the last time I actually needed one of these.

I feel like a fence post today.

major depression, ptsd, rapid-cycle bipolar disorder, stigma

My current episode of depersonalization/derealization has been going on for well over a year, as I’ve mentioned before, but it’s particularly bad today. I slept way too late, until 2:00 this afternoon, and woke up feeling very disoriented and detached. I sat on the couch for close to an hour, staring out the window…it felt like five minutes. I wasn’t even thinking about anything; my mind was essentially blank.

I wish I knew of a better way to describe what the detachment feels like. I usually tell people that it’s like being in a dreamlike state, and sometimes say it’s like being incredibly stoned (if the person in question has dabbled). D. sat on the floor next to me this evening while I had a smoke, and as I described how I was feeling, I was making a fist with my free hand.

I didn’t even notice the bloody furrows my nails had left behind until I went to wash my hands about ten minutes later. I didn’t feel my hand clenching up. I didn’t feel any pain.

Today, my mind is about a thousand miles away from my body. It’s usually not this bad; I’m not sure what’s triggering it, though I suspect it’s the oversleeping. But at the same time, I can’t really help that—I’m going through a nasty depressive cycle (which, given the fact that my bipolar is rapid-cycling, should be over soon—that’s the silver lining to all of this) and tend to be especially somnolent during these phases.

I have therapy tomorrow at five. I tutor on Tuesday night, have another doctor appointment on Wednesday, and work Thursday through Saturday. I’m hoping I’ll make some decent money this weekend, now that I know how to handle my shit at work. I feel bad for not being able to work a regular full-time nine-to-five, but the combination of mental illnesses I have can be pretty debilitating. It’s hard to keep a forty-hour work week when you regularly bottom out at two P.M. and feel like if you don’t go home and bury yourself in a mountain of blankets, you’ll finally snap and do yourself in.

I hate living like this.

PTSD, part I.

ptsd, self-harm, stigma

I was looking up some signs of unresolved trauma (mostly relating to dissociation) and came across this awesome list. The ones that apply to me are in bold (and there are way more than I thought).

1. Addictive behaviors – excessively turning to drugs, alcohol, sex, shopping, gambling as a way to push difficult emotions and upsetting trauma content further away.

2. An inability to tolerate conflicts with others – having a fear of conflict, running from conflict, avoiding conflict, maintaining skewed perceptions of conflict

3. An inability to tolerate intense feelings, preferring to avoid feeling by any number of ways

4. An innate belief that they are bad, worthless, without value or importance

5. Black and white thinking, all or nothing thinking, even if this approach ends up harming themselves

6. Chronic and repeated suicidal thoughts and feelings

7. Disorganized attachment patterns – having a variety of short but intense relationships, refusing to have any relationships, dysfunctional relationships, frequent love/hate relationships

8. Dissociation, spacing out, losing time, missing time, feeling like you are two completely different people (or more than two) *

9. Eating disorders – anorexia, bulimia, obesity, etc

10. Excessive sense of self-blame – taking on inappropriate responsibility as if everything is their fault, making excessive apologies

11. Inappropriate attachments to mother figures or father figures, even with dysfunctional or unhealthy people

12. Intense anxiety and repeated panic attacks

13. Intrusive thoughts, upsetting visual images, flashbacks, body memories / unexplained body pain, or distressing nightmares

14. Ongoing, chronic depression

15. Repeatedly acting from a victim role in current day relationships

16. Repeatedly taking on the rescuer role, even when inappropriate to do so

17. Self-harm, self-mutilation, self-injury, self-destruction

18. Suicidal actions and behaviors, failed attempts to suicide

19. Taking the perpetrator role / angry aggressor in relationships

20. Unexplained but intense fears of people, places, things

* My most frequent dissociative symptoms are derealization and depersonalization.

Depersonalization is characterized by a feeling of detachment or estrangement from one’s self.  During an episode of depersonalization, the sense of ‘self’ is disturbed.  There is an overall feeling of estrangement and detachment from the self.  …Depersonalization can be very distressing because it seems like one is losing their grip on reality, losing control, or ‘going insane.'”

Derealization – During the experience of derealization, the perception of reality feels distorted and there is a sense of being detached from the outside world.  It can feel like living in a dream.”

(Source)

In the next post on PTSD, I’ll get into some of the messier stuff–mainly, how I ended up with PTSD and how it affects my life. It’s something that is going to require a lot of effort on my part because (as anyone who knows me well can tell you) I don’t really like to talk about it. Joke about it? God, yes, I’ll do that all day long. I’m also able to write about it, to some extent–just the facts, ma’am. But really getting into the heart of it is something I still find incredibly difficult and try to avoid as much as possible.