Mental Health Update

I have been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. On top of major depression and generalized anxiety because the universe just hates my guts. 

I also found a new therapist. Not only do I need to work on my past trauma and also get through Felicia’s death, I have to start wrapping my head around my diagnosis. This is a lot to take, honestly. I don’t know if I should be relieved that there’s an explanation behind the things I do and accept it or continue to feel like shit because I am not built for this.

Living with major depression has been a struggle for me. It takes a lot out of me just to get through getting up in the morning and doing the most mundane tasks. Then the tiredness and occasional body pains. The suicidal thoughts, the feeling of worthlessness, feeling helpless, feeling overwhelmed…I could go on and on. It’s really a lot to deal with. Now that I have another mental health diagnosis on top of all that, it’s a lot to take. 

I know that this will be a work in progress. I’m a work in progress. But I’m glad I found a therapist who is willing to work with my issues (and she’ll probably need therapy once she gets to know me) and be there to help me come up with new coping skills. I don’t know exactly when I decided I was ready to be in therapy again but I feel like everything that I’ve been holding in and not addressing are weighing me down. 

Now that my kids are older and pretty much self-sufficient, I need to work on myself so I can be a better mom, wife, and person. Even if it means facing my demons. 

“I Don’t Want To Be My Self Anymore”

Back in 2012, I was admitted into the hospital. I started writing on my journal. This was from Day 1:

I’m in the psych ward. Sucks that I’m not allowed to use my cellphone or my iPad but this gives me a good reason to use this journal.

Stress was piling up over the last few weeks. It just seemed like I couldn’t catch a break it felt like I was pulled from every direction. I thought I could hold my feet firmly to the ground but last night, I had a complete mental breakdown.

My marriage is very important to me. It is the foundation of my livelihood; it’s what keeps me from losing all hope. Jason [Jeremy’s brother] decided that since he couldn’t take Jeremy away from me, he used me as a reason to finally set out what he wanted to do. I know the asshole doesn’t like me, but why lie? Why make up something that I supposedly said? Never in my life have I ever lied on someone. I have done some fucked up shit in the past but I know my limits. And making up stories about someone is never cool. It bothered me so much that Jeremy believe him. Then came the devastating news that separation is justified because I am causing a rift between he and his family. It also came as a final decision that he was abandoning me like my mother did.

Sidenote: If I had my phone on me, I would be tweeting this shit I have seen so far all day. Kinda makes me realize that I’m not that crazy after all.

So I panicked – swallowed a handful of pills. Everything after that has been a blur – from going to the hospital, now here.

Maybe I needed this. Maybe this could help me after all. My stress management and coping skills are awful. I am constantly anxious and worrying about everything. The littlest things can easily set me off and worst of all, I feel like people are purposely giving me a hard time. the thoughts of people coming out to get me started to consume my every day being.

Jeremy just came to visit me. It was heartbreaking but it helped me a lot. Why did I ever take this for granted? How could I think that my husband never loved me when he has put up with my shit for the last 9 years? Seeing him cry was painful. He was so worried about what to tell our children. I really don’t know either. But I feel good knowing that they’re taken care of. But I know eventually that they will start asking Dad questions about where I am.

I miss Michael and Camden. I miss Ginger and Bob. Jeremy brought some stuff for me and I could smell home. So I spoke to them on the phone and they didn’t seem worried so I’m glad. Jeremy is doing a great job handling the daily chores at home. He’s even taking care of the dog and the cat. This eases my anxiety a little bit because I used to think the household can’t be ran without me.

This place is very interesting. Full of characters. Apparently, I’m in the wrong unit as this unit is for people with aggression issues. There’s actually a unit for people with just depression and I really hope they move me there. I think I can get through this easier if I’m not around these disturbed folks. They’re mostly nice, but a few are a bit scary.

I can’t wait for Jeremy to bring me my cupcake from Frosting. It is such an awesome treat especially after what happened in the last 24 hours.

My goal is to get better mentally and emotionally. Whatever horrible that happened in the past. I need to start living, not just existing. I need to stop thinking about what could happen and always think positive, not matter how difficult it may be. I always think of the worst and I end up reacting the wrong way and that’s how I ended up here. But I’m going to honestly believe that being here may help me and I have to allow them to. I cannot continue to hurt Jeremy this way and I am absolutely aware that my kids will suffer without a mother.

I know Jeremy may think that this is a temporary fix but I have to prove to him otherwise.

I Wrote A Suicide Note

Because…I don’t know. Because there are days when I’m terrified of tomorrow. Because tomorrow is unpredictable. Unpredictability terrifies me. Because I have so much bad shit going on around me that it’s literally tearing me apart inside. But at the same time, I’m clinging on to whatever sanity I have left and hoping for that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

I wrote a suicide note because if I do finally put an end to this “woe is me” life, there are no unanswered questions. It’s right there…the reason why I decided to strip the world of my existence. I wrote the reasons down…people I love wouldn’t have to ask why. The reasons would completely relieve them of what they could’ve done to prevent it. Because the reasons are there to say that there was no way it could’ve been prevented.

I wrote a suicide note because I don’t trust myself. I have been to that point in my life more than once when I tell myself that I’m done. Completely. That point when I’m so terrified to be alone because no one will stop me from swallowing whatever poison I could find. I was alone the last time I was in that dark place…clinging to life…my husband saved me. He didn’t let me die. He drove me to the hospital in tears while I begged for him to turn around and let me go. I didn’t have a suicide note then.

I wrote a suicide note and left it in my wallet to remind myself that I have something to live for. It’s a weird reminder, but it’s a reminder. I open my wallet every single day and every single day it’s a reminder that I am still alive. It’s a reminder that each and every single day, no one else knows what’s in that note. Only me and me alone.