Alone and Lonely

The last post I wrote was when I was in crisis. I am through that portion of the journey, with lots of help. I have been in group therapy and continue this route. I am not crazy, but I am more aware of my mental health issues – a propensity toward depression and anxiety. I understand the signs. I have been good in my healing. But I am still alone and lonely.

I haven’t written much since I fell apart. The main problem was that my antidepressants weren’t working. That means that they were actually triggering massive depression. Over the course of a week when I was in hospital they changed my medications and I was given some unique insight into depression and anxiety and how I fit the mold, and how to break the mold, if I want to.

I have good friends and a stable life, but I have dual personas. One is the ‘normal’ person that most people know. I get up and attend to my ‘to do’ list in life. I feed the cats. I do work that’s presented to me. Even when I don’t feel happy, I try my best to feel happy. Sometimes it’s an uphill battle against anxiety and depression and still the grief; that lingering, ever-present grief.

March 10, 2013 Bob called me to say he was going into emergency. Last year at this time I was re-living every moment. This year I’ve been spared the moment-by-moment memories, but there are always reminders.

It’s time to file taxes and as I go through my past year’s files I am struck by the fact that last year was the last year anyone would file taxes for you, Bob. When I see your name on all the documents I felt sick. I’m not sure why. Am I still in denial? Sometimes, like in the first months following your death, I think this is just a dream and I’ll wake up…

Yesterday was the first day of spring. It would have been your 66th birthday. This year I will be 60. We would have celebrated this milestone together. But I just want to stay in bed when that day comes.

IMG_0309My cats – Cassie and Joey – are my blessing. They keep me focused on the need to get out of my bed, even when I want to stay buried under the covers. I get up and feed them. I laugh at their antics. I live each day as it comes. But it still isn’t the way I wanted it to be.

My time in the hospital changed how I view the world and how it views me. It brought my family together, and created small tears in other places. It brought me new friends, and others drifted away.

I seek answers and have found them in other worldly ways, through mediums who speak with those on the other side. Whether you believe in it or not, it has brought me some comfort, and the messages are the same, no matter the medium, no pun intended (but that says a lot, at least to me, about the validity of the messengers and the messages).

I start a new therapy this week. I cried my way into the acceptance phase asking, “Do I have to be depressed to write the best I can? I need to find out.” Maybe I will, or maybe I won’t. Maybe writing needs to be fueled by that single glass of wine on a lonely Saturday night with two cats in the dark because I’ve been writing this and haven’t turned on the lights in the house.

I am lonely, Bob. I have been told you come and brush your hands along my hair and brush your fingers gently across my face, that you say you never told me “I love you” enough. It’s true we weren’t gregarious in our affections. I am told that you are always with me, but I don’t see you and I don’t really feel you…maybe it’s not rational thinking, but I hope you are somewhere safe and happy.

I keep saying, this isn’t the life I chose, it chose me. I don’t know where it will take me. And I’m not sure that anyone cares but me. I miss you. And I’ll say it now, “I’m lonely.”

Down the Rabbit Hole: Finding my way out

My first message to friends and family from the hospital

October 28, 2014

I have thought about writing but honestly haven’t had time and I’m not sure I can put this into words. I just want to give you a small window into what happened and what is going on.

This has nothing to do with anyone but me. Technology played a huge part in helping me. I reached out in that way not because no one was calling me but because I suffer from depression complicated by grief and choosing a combination of healthy and, in desperate times, unhealthy coping skills to deal with what I’ve been going through just wasn’t working – especially the unhealthy part. I thought about calling people; a crisis line because I was in crisis.  But the mind doesn’t work clearly when it is in a state of desperation.

Every day I have an epiphany and I’m sure this isn’t the whole story, but I spent the last 16 months researching grief and trying to get help. I knew I was making some positive progress but in the last few weeks I hit a brick wall. I reached out for help through grief therapy, my GP, counselling therapy…the list is endless.  I was in a state of panic but kept trying to hold it together. In times of crisis the mind doesn’t think rationally. We don’t understand what is going on. We just hurt and try to drive away the pain. This wasn’t the first time this happened in the past few months. I’ve been monitored by my doctor but if I don’t know what is going on how can I articulate it?

To complicate things, like many of you, I am a high functioning person but in my case it’s a high functioning depressed person. I have been on meds that helped me cope but I lost my anchor, the man who knew me best and who could calm me down when I felt overwhelmed.

When I came here, to the hospital emergency, a doctor came in and assessed my situation immediately. “First, I don’t think the medication you’re on is working anymore. This is complicated by grief and all that you’ve been through since then. I’d like to suggest we change your meds and, if you can hold on, we will get a bed for you and have an entire team working with you.”

I am confused by exhaustion and depression but didn’t miss the last part of that statement. A team? But I turned to my daughter and asked her “what do you think?” I needed to be sure I was making the right decision, though who really knows what the “right decision” is. She is sympathetic and analytic. “Mom, you’ve been looking for help. I think you should do this.” I agree. I spend two nights and almost two days in emergency, first in quarantined confinement, then am moved out of the high-risk area.

I am tired and starving – I can’t eat the food they give me and, as a result, my brain becomes strained and doesn’t function as it should. Finally, on Monday, I am told a bed is ready for me. I am admitted to the mental health ward. I am not scared, but confused. I do feel safe but I don’t know what’s going on. Add anxiety to my list of issues. It was on high alert.

After a few days I fall into the routine. A nurse in the morning, a new one on night shift. I meet with my psychiatrist. He is amazing. He agrees with the doctor in emergency.  “We need to change your meds. They worked for you before but they aren’t helping now.” Having been diagnosed with depression over two decades ago it’s not hard to believe that the original medications have stopped doing the work they used to. It happens. “Y

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow but I do know that I need to change my cognitive beliefs  and between medication and one on one therapy and people who are trained to help me do this I am cautiously optimistic. Do I know what my purpose is in life yet? No. Will I start to live with hope and positive beliefs? I’m trying to learn how. Many will say “You have to want to and you need to start thinking positively” but it’s not that black and white.

I feel like I’m in a safe place where people get it. We are all here to fight our demons and we want to get better. The care is exemplary. I have given my medical team cart blanche to allow and restrict me where they  see fit but I also see that, as a high functioning person who has always been adept at hiding feelings, my medical team is giving me more liberal treatment. I have day passes now but I must promise every day that I will be sure to be safe. So I need to be cognizant of my feelings and keep asking myself “do I feel safe?” And right now I do.

I now realize in this,  one of my most rational moments over the last 16 months, that my actions could cause pain to others and that they will not ‘get over it’ and won’t be ‘better off without me.’ My biggest wake-up call came when I saw my daughter walk into my house that night with tears in her eyes. I knew I had to try and figure this out. So I will work hard. I will falter. I will pray for strength.

Please know I thank  you all for your caring and love. I don’t check email regularly right now so I apologize for not replying earlier and I won’t be checking often for a while.  Please just know that I appreciate my PWAC family helping me and continuing to support me. If I can ask one thing, please send me strength and clarity.