Posts tagged relapse
Since Pawpa died my world spun so quickly, I was certain I was going to fall off and go hurling back into that black hole of depression; the one that is always threatening to make me hate everything, especially myself; the black hole which makes me wish death would put me out of my misery once and for all.
The hole was so deep I didn’t see how I would get out of it. I was trapped there for most of August((one of my shortest, but most intense, depressive episodes)). It was triggered by all the death, the loss of my job, the instability in my romantic life, my sister’s move to the east coast, and my being on the verge of financial ruin and homelessness once again. At one point, I had decided to give up and kill myself.
I am feeling somewhat better. I haven’t cried since yesterday. The past couple of days I worked 11 hours shifts because the distraction really helps. If I’m at work then I’m busy and unable to think about losing my baby and Paul within a day of each other.
There have been so many people here for me through this heart wrenching time and I’m more grateful that I can even express. If it wasn’t for my friends and family and Paul’s family I don’t think I would have pulled through, at the very least I would have relapsed and self-injured, at worst I would have killed myself. I’m far from healed or over losing the baby, but at least I’m not bursting into tears every few minutes anymore.
The aspect of recovery from mental illness that is most difficult for me is having the knowledge that relapse is not only possible, it is inevitable. It has made me damned near obsessive with self-awareness. Many thoughts, behaviors, and urges I have are automatic, but I find myself frequently questioning them shortly thereafter.
For instance, if I have the urge to exercise, I ask myself if it’s because an episode is in progress or impending, then other questions follow, such as: Is it because you’re manic and have too much energy? Is it because you want to lose weight? If so why do you want to lose weight? Are you ashamed of your body? Are you starting to hate yourself again?
My birthday was Sunday, May 3rd, but I had the party Saturday night. I had a great time. However, two people that I care about didn’t attend – David (my brother) and Zane. Zane had to work the overnight shift, so I understood and it wasn’t a big deal. I knew he’d make it up to me later. My brother wasn’t informed of the event or invited. I didn’t invite him for a couple reasons: we haven’t spoken since February and he would have brought the lazy, lying, manipulative, spiteful bitch/cunt he married and I don’t want her toxic ass anywhere near me. I kept it small because I have more fun with people I am comfortable around. The attendees were Tori, Dudney, Jess, Dan, Andy, Lisa, Tim, Dena, Matt, and Jeremy. Around 3am a most unlikely and unexpected person showed up… Nick.
Andy and Jeremy were the first ones to arrive. They were pretty early and called it the VIP party. We started drinking Absinthe and Jager bombs after we broke in Andy’s new dual vaporizer. We were pretty damned buzzed by the time everyone else starting showing up. They caught up pretty quick. We were playing the Godfather on PS2 when Dan arrived. Then we moved on to Guitar Hero World Tour. Andy tried to sing, Dan showed off his expert guitar skills, and Jeremy and I took turns playing bass and guitar. No one was coordinated enough to try the drums.
Lisa and Tim came after the Blues Traveler concert and they had the most catching up to do. Everyone was shitfaced by the time they got here. Lisa made me drink more with her, so I drank the most out of everyone. Andy ended up passing out on the loveseat and Jeremy prayed to the porcelain god a few times. I held my liquor very well, didn’t get pissed off at anyone, didn’t relapse and cut, and didn’t puke. Go me!
Dudney was drunker than everyone and blacked out. I don’t know if he started texting Nick or if Nick texted him first, but he asked me if I knew where to get some bud for Nick. I hadn’t spoken to Nick since the whole Tamara fiasco last autumn. I had no intention of doing him any favors and told Dudney no. Shortly thereafter he came back into my room and handed me his phone. It was Nick.
The chains that bound me to certain people have weakened near the point of disintegration and I’ve given myself a clean slate. As a result, I am de-stressed and I can breathe freely.
This whole being happy thing kinda scary. It’s been awhile since I’ve considered myself happy. Since I’ve been off the meds, I’ve been paying attention to myself, watching for signs of a relapse or an improvement.
I see a drastic improvement. However, I’m afraid a manic episode could be creeping around the corner. So far, I haven’t noticed any significant symptoms. Nevertheless, my happiness is somewhat disturbing. Right now, I’m trying to figure out whether I’m “happy” or if I’m nearly “euphoric.” While the latter feels post-orgasmic, it signals an impending nosedive. I don’t feel post-orgasmic currently, but I do feel ecstatic1.