Happy Anniversary to Me

Good morning all.

Today is going to be a little different. Over in Facebook land I have been doing a countdown to today. Have caused not a little bit of confusion over there as I am right now. With all that goes on over a year long period changes within yourself (myself) can create a completely different person.

On December 23/17 I could have killed myself. Not intentionally but I had gotten to such a point in my life where I was trying so hard to block out the voices in my head. The ones telling me that no one cared. No one had time for me and my petty problems. So I downed handful after handful of pills that day. At one point, while at work, I took over 30 pills. To subdue the voices, to make me stop feeling. The higher I got, the less I worried.

I spent pretty much the entire year of 2017 in a depressive state. I was drinking heavily. Taking pills. How I did my job at work, as a mother, a friend, I do not know. And it is not like I did not try to stop taking the pills. But they were my out. My crutch when things got really hard to handle.

I should have realized as I became more reclusive, cut off people that I spoke to on a regular basis that something was wrong. Did part of me realize? Most likely but that voice in my head kept talking, kept telling me all the wonderfully wrong things about myself. My girls, they tried to reach out to me, they tried but I could not let them see me like that. They did though, cause I have some of the best girl friends on the planet bar none.

I ended up in the hospital that night. Was put on leave the very next day. I could not stop crying. I could not stop apologizing. Once more I had fucked everything up.

What happened to me last year was what I call my kaboom! I fell down. And let me tell you I fell hard. All those balls I was juggling came crashing down on my head. One after the other. When I woke up on the 24th, I had a massive bruise on my arm, my forehead hurt and there was a bruise and my tailbone. As you read this you are probably wondering what the hell I had done.

I literally fell down. I had pulled myself up off the floor (I had been hiding under the desk so I would not be on camera) and tried to sit on the chair.  Which rolled away from me and I hit the floor while cracking my head and arm on the desk. I had been trying to make myself throw up which did not work. I was in a horrific condition. How I still have a job I do not know.

At the hospital that night, I sat in the waiting room with two friends to see the doctor. I was not considered to be an urgent care so it was almost five hours before I was called to be taken to a room. I had a variety of tests done. Bloodwork. Urine. Heart. The concern was I could have damaged my kidneys. My heart was racing overtime. Never mind that I was groggy and really just wanted to sleep.

It was after midnight, Christmas Eve, by the time I got home. The friend who drove me to get my car followed me home and went through my cupboards. To ensure that I had no more pills. I threw out everything I had when I got up later. Not the pills I had been taking but Advil, PMS meds, if it was something that could be consumed and possibly get me high, I threw it away.

My Ex came through in a big way. He supported me. Not once did he call into question my ability to mother. Not once did he point a finger at me or make me feel that what had happened was wrong. He had been through this once before with me, but this time when I hit my rock bottom, I hit it hard.

Poor T. He was so lost and feeling like he had to make me feel better. I look at him now (I mean the poor kid has witnessed not one but two depressive episodes with me) and I fear that I have caused some damage. He does not like to be away from his dad or me for too long. He will only go on sleepovers to his best friend’s home, no where else. He gets anxious and has ridged rules which cannot be compromised. I need to tell him in advance if something is going to change in his normal routine. I did that to him and I do not know how to fix it.

I was abused by my father. I knew this. My mom knew this. My brother well he knows without knowing. I charged him. I went to court and testified against him. I chose not to follow through when enough evidence was found to go to trial. Than I spent the next 20 years or so until his death, fluctuating between wanting him in my life and wishing that he was dead. I shoved everything down.

In previous posts (from the start of the year) I have detailed my account of what happened. The voice that was on repeat in my head, was his. He told me as a child I ruined everything. I was made to feel small, belittled and abused. I kept all of this inside where it ate away at the fiber of my being.

I began counselling. I admitted that I had very little recall of my childhood. I remember select things, like my brother’s birth and my reaction. However I mean a little terrorist had just moved into the family (ha ha ha) who the hell would forget that? But my life except for certain things, before the age of about 12, is a foggy blur. Memory wise.

My counsellor explained that this was not unusual in abuse cases. That my brain was hiding from me what it felt I could not handle. I was not to go poking around trying to recall anything because well my brain would not let me. I was worried too, that I was making everything up, that none of this had happened. My fears were put to rest again by my counsellor when we discussed this. Never mind the fact that I could recall my statement to the police nigh on 30 years later.

The worst for me was a cycle of three days. Three days were I was slammed with memories that froze me. That made me scream. Quite honestly, I had one memory that actually made me scream in terror and pain when it hit me. I felt like a black hole had opened up and swallowed me. I doubled over with emotional pain, pulled my knees up and was in the fetal position screaming and crying.

The other two memories were bad but not as bad as the first one. The first one is when I realized/remembered/learned that I had been younger than 12 when this abuse started. That is the one that ripped a hole in me. The other two left me shaking and in flight mode as adrenaline coursed through my body. And while they were just as horrid, by day 3 I was nearly comatose. I was going through the motions. I was a robot. I was raw. And in pain.

Now let us fast forward to today. I have been pill free for a year. I am stronger than I have ever been in my entire life. I believe in myself and that fucking voice well it is gone. I have made peace with myself. I am confident and I believe (lol Eminem song every time I say that statement ‘I believe’ I hear him in my head) that I am worth it. I am worth time, care, love and a happy life. I am worthy to live this life. The chains of my past which had shackled me, held me down, they are gone.

I am in a really great space. I have learned to trust and love. I have learned who I can count on. Who is there for me even when I am at my most ugly. I have learned how to accept my emotions, my pain, my fears, to let myself feel them and deal with them, not hide from them. I have learned how to care for the small girl inside of me, who was so hurt and harmed, we have become one again.

So, happy anniversary to me. I am so very very proud of myself.

 

Pillow Head

Mirtazapine. Also known commenly as Remron. Used in conjunction with another anti-depressant to help to alleviate symptoms of major depression At least that was how it was explained to me. One takes it at bedtime as it is suppose to help you to sleep.

I have experience with Remron from 2003. The year after my first diagnosis.

During this time, the pills knocked me right out. I would take them and in 15 minutes be asleep and drooling. The Ex told me that attempting to wake me up was futile, I was comatose. I remember taking them for awhile but quitting. The dosage at that time was 45 mg.

I explained to the Psychaitrist and my counselor that I had previously been on the Remron and described my experience. Both felt that it was the dosage and the fact that I was also self-medicating as well way back when. They felt that it was safe enough because I was going to be on the smallest dosage of 7.5 mg.  Given how it had previously affected me, I wanted to experiment with the meds when T was not here. I was not comfortable thinking that something could happen and I would not awaken.

Saturday night I took it around 11ish. By 11:30 I was feeling groggy and having difficulty keeping my eyes open. Not so bad, it didn’t just swoop in and swamp me. I slept straight through the night. I woke up at 7 a.m. on Sunday and felt as though I had been drinking the night before. My head was full of stuffing, my mouth was dry, my teeth scuzzy. I stumbled into the living room, blinking my eyes, doing face contortions to try and awaken myself.

I thought that it was because it was the first day that I was feeling this way. I decided I would try one more time Sunday evening and after that I would call my counselor and tell him this was a no go.

Sunday afternoon I was feeling tired and out of sorts. Which is unusual for me. I went and laid down in my room and fell asleep. Was out for about an hour. When I woke up I felt like I had slept hours. My head was aching and again my mouth felt dry. Even Sunday evening I felt really off. I still took the pill willing to give it one more chance.

I again slept straight through awakening to the alarm at 6 a.m. Again, feeling as though I had been drinking the night before. Decided right than and there that I was not going to be taking this medication any more. I spent my day much as I did on Sunday, lethargic and I realized that my mood was not where it had been for the last 6 days. I was feeling down.

I could attest that to the fact that I was feeling out of sorts. That because I did not have my normal energy I was stressing a little. Not a lot, not panic like but stressing a bit. But I do not think so. And I did not want to write. My desire to read the blogs I follow was nonexistant. Again not like me at all. And I had been able to read but my interest again had waned.

I also had an hour and a half nap yesterday. Did not feel right. Called my counselor and left a message indicating that I would not be taking the Remron any longer. Which means that they might want to switch my Wellbutrin altogether. I am really leery about that because it does work for me. The fact that I am now having to take the highest dosage does indicate that I may be building up a tolerance to it.

This morning I woke up at 5:05 a.m. Actually Thomas woke me up tapping a claw into me to awaken the misterss so that she could feed me! Got up staggered to the bathroom and crawled back into bed. Did not fall back to sleep but did doze until the alarm went of at 6 a.m. I was not feeling as groggy as the previous two mornings but still did not have the same level of energy that I have been having. Also I was a little snappish with T. Annoyed because he would not even give the new cereal a chance.

I fell asleep after eating breakfast this morning.  I had done my workout when I got back from dropping T at school. But another wave of sleepiness rolled over me and I napped. Another hour and a half gone. And when I woke up my head felt stuffed with fluff again. I know that it is going to take a couple of days for the pills to be completely out of my system and I am drinking a lot of water.

What scares me is the drain on my energy and the fact my mood has gone down. How I have slipped back a little bit. I know that it is not going to last forever. I am still able to do the small things and am pushing through this bleak moment. And that is what it is, a bleak moment. I have tried the Remron again and it does not work. Groggy Jay is on the way out, and Energetic Feeling Good Jay will return. I just need to be patient.