Those in the psychiatric profession refer to this as biological and situational depression. That I tell myself that it is the misfiring of the prefrontal cortex of my brain and the over stimulation of the amalgamen as it travels along my nervous system means very little to me in this context. I have been very physically and emotionally sick indeed. Yesterday, I reached such a low point that I was asked repeatably by the clinicians involved the same question. "Are you suicidal?" Gratefully, I can answer "No, ....not yet." This is a miracle.
When I last posted this blog, I wrote about forces that wanted to silence me and that I was detoxing from a medication that had the potential to kill me. Quite a combo to fight alone. What happens to my body and therefore, my mind as it moves through this hell-on-earth experience is devastating. The only way I know how to protect myself is to isolate myself from all forms of stimulation, especially the negative kind. But sometimes, negative circumstances are thrust upon us that are beyond our ability to resolve. Sometimes it is moment to moment survival when the blessings of life are shrouded in darkness.
This has been my mode of operation lately. Isolation. Progress is slow as I assimilate these new realities and deal, as best I can. Many of you, dear readers, have reached out to me and have provided a lifeline of faith and hope reminding me that I do make a difference. That my life and voice have a positive influence whether this illness is acting up or not. I thank you from the depths of my soul. For when I write, I pour my heart and soul into the endeavor. The results speak for themselves.
I have had neither the heart or the soul or the inspiration to write these past few weeks. It feels like months even years since I've last been here having tea and sharing my insights with you. I have been feeling deeply lonely, fearful, angry and hurt as I face hard-core facts. Aging with or without a mental illness is not a picnic. The accomplishments and relationships of the past are that...the past. They have no bearing on what's really happening today.
So what is going on? What is different now? Who or what has hurt you? What is happening to you? How can we help?
My greatest fault is not asking for or requesting help. This is the root of my problem. The habit of thinking and believing I'm not worthy of receiving help especially when I need it most. Why? How come this is so difficult for me to do? To reach out. To simply ask. I can only surmise that it is a learned response formed early in life. My fear of rejection and burdening others with any of my physical and emotional needs is, of course, wholly unrealistic. It is wrecking havoc in the present. It has finally caught up with me. Who or what do I turn to when I'm no longer or temporarily unable to care and provide for myself? In simple terms this is known as a crisis. I am in crisis. I need help. Lots of it.
Even my dreams torment me. Piles of dirty laundry surround me. Not only mine, but those of other family members. There is only one washer machine and dryer. Both requiring quarters that I do not have in my possession to do the stupid laundry. I watch the graying whites running on a cold wash through a looking glass door. They do not brighten. Over-extended, I feel only dread and defeat and frustration as mounds of clothing are continually thrown at me, as if I was a maid. One needn't be a genius or a dream interpreter to know what this dream is informing me. So what do think it means? Dirty laundry without the financial means in a situation of unending stress doing the impossible all alone.
Yesterday, I was immobile. I sat fixated in despair on my sofa looking at a sheaf of prescriptions on my cocktail table, including one with a name and telephone number for a partial hospitalization program. The day before, Thursday, my therapist reminded me I could always call him at any time. From my doctor of 15-16 years, I learned that soon he would be weaning himself away as a psychiatrist at the behavioral clinic I go to, just to maintain the doctor-patient relationship. Circumstances beyond his control are gently moving him towards retirement and so are calling him away from his clinical practice. I also learn that I am ineligible to receive visiting home nursing care or a home health aid that may have greatly benefited my well being. It could be viewed by Medicare as fraud because it only applies to those suffering from dementia. Gratefully, this is not my diagnosis. And for the first time in 15 years, a therapeutic partial day hospitalization is proposed. So is ECT. What choices! Yesterday, I debated. Do I call the crisis hotline or 911?
The loss of independence, the financial hardships endured and the inability to go for or ask for help and then trust I will receive assistance is frightfully real for me. So are the fractured familial relationships. Who among you wouldn't be afraid and traumatized when confronted with any of these? This is my reality in case you wondered why I fell silent for so long.
But I chose not be silenced from my observations, their impact on me as an individual first, then as one living with bipolar depression...of the depressive variety. Sometimes, I wish I still experienced the high side of this illness with its boundless energy, hyperactivity, hyper-sexuality, high productivity, its whirling social involvement and grandiose beliefs and plans. Then I remember the inexhaustible energy, the irritability, the indiscretions, the arrogance, the inability to stay still, the drive for perfection, the damaged relationships and the multiple careers that all ended in failure. So today I count my blessings and give thanks for the numerous friends and the individual family members who have and continue to offer their unwavering support.
Today, I blog. Today, I reclaim my humble life with gentle baby steps. Today I will force myself to eat something. Today I will put fresh sheets on my bed and do a load of laundry. Today that will be enough. Today is a little better than yesterday. In closing, I offer up these biblical quotes as spiritual nourishment.
Love covers all offenses. - Proverbs 10:12
Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, "Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well." And instantly the woman was made well. - Matthew 9:22
I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. - Psalm 34:4
No comments:
Post a Comment