Borderline Personality Disorder Blog. Bipolar Disorder Blog. BPD. DBT. Cleveland. A Fragment in Orange.



Back again. I don't write much. Not sure why. Sometimes it is hard to share, especially when the sharing is of the real stuff. So now I'll share. A record for myself.

It's been an interesting month. I started taking a new drug. Abilify. 5mg. That's a small dose. Think you can go up to 30. I went to see a new psychiatrist. It was time. I was miserable. I was suicidal. I had a plan. It wasn't a plan for right now but rather a plan for after my dog dies. He's eleven. He is my only responsibility right now. I have to take care of him and give him the kind of life he deserves. I know that when he dies I'll be mush. Nothing holding me to this earth after that. I can't bear the thought. Suicidal and having a plan and just sitting around waiting. That was me one month ago.

I feel that I have a fatal illness. Really it's a chronic illness, and if I take care of it I should be okay to roll along with life and get from point A to point B like most people do. Minus happiness. Not that people are happy. I think that most of us suffer from yearning, not being where we want to be, not having what we want to have. Not that being where we want to be or having what we want to have will bring happiness. That's the crappy thing about life. Perpetual wanting. But some are more content than others to be who they are, where they are, why they are, etc. Less sensitive. Better adapters maybe. But not necessarily happier.

I went to see this new psychiatrist because I felt that I had one last chance to pull through. It was a strange meeting. Positive. I told him how it was and then we had a mostly scientific matter-of-fact conversation about what we could do about it. I really appreciate people who I can talk to about my depression without having to worry that melodrama will ensure. Let's talk about this like it's an illness rather than some big fucking deal getting emotions all wrapped up in it. Matter-of-fact. Depression: It's not this dark crazy intangible can't-put-a-finger-on taboo mysterious condition that some people think it is. It's chemicals and science and biological. It just is.

He suggested I try Abilify. Of course it's a million dollars a month, but money shouldn't be important in this situation, right? If Abilify doesn't work, he said, have you considered electric shock therapy? Actually he said ECT and I shot him a blank look. Oh! Electric shock therapy. Well no, I haven't considered that. It's not as scary as people make it out to be, he says. Sounds interesting, I think but don't say. We'll give Abilify a shot.

One month later and it's as if a miracle has happened. I'm not all ooh pretty daisies floating on air chocolate muffins sound of music happy. I'm not happy at all. But I'm not depressed. Strange that. The constant sadness, gone. The plan, gone. (Still in my mind but not a plan I'm working on). It's all very bizarre. These chemicals, this brain. A small little pill.

There are side effects. I am restless. I can't concentrate on reading or TV or projects. For the first time in a long time I feel bored. When I try to relieve that boredom by doing something, I lack the energy and desire to finish the task. That is incredibly frustrating. My eyes feel tired all the time -- the only thing that helps is to close them. But of course I can't sleep when I'm tired like that. No more depression sleep. No more running-away-from sleep. I miss that. No more reversing days and nights on my weekends. I've fallen into a normal-person sleep schedule. Blah. Daily life feels more mundane than before. But at least I don't want to die. Right? Hum drum, go along with it, hope for better days, me. That's good, right? I'll give this some time. See if it improves. Maybe this is the way most people feel.