I logged on to vent about my knee what seems like months ago now, even though it was probably only two weeks. And in the time since all I've truly done is wallow in an episode of depression. I think it's pretty safe to say that I have never, ever felt so incapacitated by this illness in my entire life. I stayed up til dawn to hit the point of passing out just so I wouldn't have to listen to myself as I tried to sleep. And then I consequently slept late into the day and then just couldn't, or wouldn't, get out of bed for hours. And I no longer left the house. I hid in my bedroom, often with my head in a book again just to drown out my own thoughts. All my feelings became wrong. Where there should have been vibrant emotional reactions there were either none or the feelings were so muted I may as well have not been experiencing them. I have become quite vacant in many ways. Sometimes when in company I will refuse to meet people's eyes, look anywhere but them and stare vacantly. Or I'll just stare vacantly at a wall. It's taken a long time for me to be able to form a coherent insight into my internal struggle and the period in which I had no words was the most frustrating of all.
The lack of words led me to become significantly disinterested in people. If you're seeking my company for the sake of company and to have a good time, great, we can be friends for life. But the moment 98% of people ask me to account for anything I'm feeling I'm done with you. I fear that I have begun to alienate people in this manner and worse still is recognising that I'm not even sorry about it. I am making no move to repair damage, I have no interest in it. I just don't seem to care anymore. Frequently now I read messages from people and just want them to stop talking. I feel myself becoming an awful, terrible person and I'm powerless to change it. And on some level I don't even want to.
Which is even stranger still when you consider that my mood spikes infinitely when I'm busy and being handed a purpose. Saturday through Thursday I was hit with a sudden bout of life motivation and the sole reason for that motivation was a line up of activities I had been anticipating. But now with that purposelessness setting back in, I'm muted once again. And again I'm concerned for me.
In my last post I finally made the connection about my depression being very much chemical based. This delayed observation came about after a thorough examination of my moods during my period cycle. I think there is something very wrong with my hormones because nothing works as it should. My periods are invariably late and invariably unpredictable, ridiculous at my age, and instead of being emotionally unstable while on them I find that I am actually incredibly stable, happy even. I truly believe that a lot of problems could be solved by regulating my hormones and creating consistency in my cycle. But of course, my heart won't allow such interference, and I don't see what other options I have. And my concerns about my cycle and how it's unpredictable and how I only sometimes have cramps and how sometimes it's not heavy and sometimes it is and how my cycle can go from anywhere between 24 and 34 days open up this whole other can of worms and I'm not even remotely prepared nor interested in looking into it. Again this is a problem I'm sure the pill could help remedy but once again... I'm tired of being medically special.
If ever there was a time for me to seek the help of a professional, this is it. But something is stopping me and I'm not sure what it is. How bad can I let it get before I do something?
This constant fight with myself is exhausting,
- Sky
Saturday, 30 November 2013
Monday, 11 November 2013
When Seeking Change
I'm finding it very hard to reconcile within myself, in this moment, how well I was just a week ago and how strung out I am now.
I can always count on the week in which I am on my period to even me out. I never, ever feel bad during that week. I'm what I would describe as even. Not super happy, but so very far from low and angry and frustrated and all the other not so great things I feel during the other weeks. And that sort of clarifies everything doesn't it? Because it basically makes my depression chemical; which means that when I so choose I can right it.
But at what cost?
I haven't had the best track record with medications, and truth be told I'm worried about allowing my body a whole new opportunity to hate on me. It takes about ten days for an anti-depressant to settle into your system and start working it's magic. But in that ten days a lot could happen to me and yeah, it kind of scares the hell out of me. So how ready am I to take that step? I don't know. At the very least it seems I need to be having a talk with my doctor to suss all this out and even see if he thinks it's a good idea.
But I have to get there first, and it was a hell of a thing for me just to go back and reignite the investigation into my right knee. It took me two weeks to ring up and make that appointment. And even though it wasn't even that bad and I don't even think I was all that worried, I think doctors on principle just worry me. Which is understandable given the grief they've caused me. But it's also impeding my ability to be a better person. And that's what all this is about after all, being better. The result of that doctors appointment was that I was prescribed even stronger anti-inflammatories and that they think an MRI is an ace idea. I don't think I'll get anything out of these new anti-inflammatories. They've done nothing so far and I don't think there'll be any change in the condition of my knee by week's end. And my growing stash of anti-inflammatories might even be concerning. The MRI poses a much more interesting mental conundrum. My doctor is very sure that the problem will be visible on this scan. I so want to share his hope and believe him, but history is making me cautious. And as a result I feel utterly torn. Because I want to hope with every fibre of my existence that they will be able to see the problem and, even better, fix it. But I know I'm me. And being me does not entail a happy ending. So I find myself conflicted and unable to... deal with it I guess. I just don't want to build myself up with hope only to have to fall all the way down into further chronic pain.
Because truthfully, part of me is scared that all of this has been in my head. Even though the fluid spoke for itself, and so did the presentations of many of my joint related injuries, I have this little niggling fear that I'm even more psychotic than anyone realises. And I don't think I can do that. I've been degraded enough.
At least all of the above has been familiar to me though. It's well trod ground. None of the feelings are new or even particularly different. They are all things I understand and can, to a poor extent, deal with in my own way. But my feelings relating to the post below this are something entirely different. This is not something I've ever had to deal with before and it's been very challenging. I denied and denied and denied and denied the relation emotion and truthfully, I'm still experiencing it now. I just don't know how to process it. I'm not really sure how to process not being wanted. There's no feeling I want to experience here, so I can't even try to guide myself. There are just these various pangs that come and go. I think I miss him a lot. Because we don't talk anymore. And I am definitely hurt because I was, essentially, rejected. And I wonder if I should be mad at myself for trying to deal with it the way I did. But I have zero regrets and it was really just nice to feel hot and pretty and wanted. Because I didn't feel those things for a long time. And I'm not feeling them right now either.
Because I've begun to make my way down this obsessive slope with my weight and exercising and harassing my knee so that I can feel better about other aspects of my body. And some days the scales make me want to cry, and so does the fact that my stomach won't be flat again. And I even cut all my hair off and basically gave myself an afro and I still just don't know who I want to be or why I'm doing any of this.
I'm just left wondering if I'll ever be worth it, or worth anything.
Because I'm not feeling it right now.
- Sky
I can always count on the week in which I am on my period to even me out. I never, ever feel bad during that week. I'm what I would describe as even. Not super happy, but so very far from low and angry and frustrated and all the other not so great things I feel during the other weeks. And that sort of clarifies everything doesn't it? Because it basically makes my depression chemical; which means that when I so choose I can right it.
But at what cost?
I haven't had the best track record with medications, and truth be told I'm worried about allowing my body a whole new opportunity to hate on me. It takes about ten days for an anti-depressant to settle into your system and start working it's magic. But in that ten days a lot could happen to me and yeah, it kind of scares the hell out of me. So how ready am I to take that step? I don't know. At the very least it seems I need to be having a talk with my doctor to suss all this out and even see if he thinks it's a good idea.
But I have to get there first, and it was a hell of a thing for me just to go back and reignite the investigation into my right knee. It took me two weeks to ring up and make that appointment. And even though it wasn't even that bad and I don't even think I was all that worried, I think doctors on principle just worry me. Which is understandable given the grief they've caused me. But it's also impeding my ability to be a better person. And that's what all this is about after all, being better. The result of that doctors appointment was that I was prescribed even stronger anti-inflammatories and that they think an MRI is an ace idea. I don't think I'll get anything out of these new anti-inflammatories. They've done nothing so far and I don't think there'll be any change in the condition of my knee by week's end. And my growing stash of anti-inflammatories might even be concerning. The MRI poses a much more interesting mental conundrum. My doctor is very sure that the problem will be visible on this scan. I so want to share his hope and believe him, but history is making me cautious. And as a result I feel utterly torn. Because I want to hope with every fibre of my existence that they will be able to see the problem and, even better, fix it. But I know I'm me. And being me does not entail a happy ending. So I find myself conflicted and unable to... deal with it I guess. I just don't want to build myself up with hope only to have to fall all the way down into further chronic pain.
Because truthfully, part of me is scared that all of this has been in my head. Even though the fluid spoke for itself, and so did the presentations of many of my joint related injuries, I have this little niggling fear that I'm even more psychotic than anyone realises. And I don't think I can do that. I've been degraded enough.
At least all of the above has been familiar to me though. It's well trod ground. None of the feelings are new or even particularly different. They are all things I understand and can, to a poor extent, deal with in my own way. But my feelings relating to the post below this are something entirely different. This is not something I've ever had to deal with before and it's been very challenging. I denied and denied and denied and denied the relation emotion and truthfully, I'm still experiencing it now. I just don't know how to process it. I'm not really sure how to process not being wanted. There's no feeling I want to experience here, so I can't even try to guide myself. There are just these various pangs that come and go. I think I miss him a lot. Because we don't talk anymore. And I am definitely hurt because I was, essentially, rejected. And I wonder if I should be mad at myself for trying to deal with it the way I did. But I have zero regrets and it was really just nice to feel hot and pretty and wanted. Because I didn't feel those things for a long time. And I'm not feeling them right now either.
Because I've begun to make my way down this obsessive slope with my weight and exercising and harassing my knee so that I can feel better about other aspects of my body. And some days the scales make me want to cry, and so does the fact that my stomach won't be flat again. And I even cut all my hair off and basically gave myself an afro and I still just don't know who I want to be or why I'm doing any of this.
I'm just left wondering if I'll ever be worth it, or worth anything.
Because I'm not feeling it right now.
- Sky
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