Wednesday, April 12, 2017

I Just Don't Know

Before Yesterday

I wrote about my struggles with binging and the hope that another day brings. I lost my hope. Stressors of school and things around the home pushed me towards the brink. Acute meds helped to stave off a major episode of anxiety and outbursts, but the binging continued... in a massive way. Eventually I binged myself to sleep, just to wake up the next morning in a more pathetic state. 


I had an appointment that I forced myself to go to, feeling like shit. Partly hung over from medication and partly sick from the binge. I cancelled other things because I knew I would be useless. I hate cancelling, but revealing my weakness would have been worse. Even though I didn't want to, I started reaching out towards my safety net. I suppose it is there for a reason and I've been conditioned to use it. I emailed my therapist, to whom I have an amazing connection. On my way hope I began to ball, knowing that nothing is actually wrong and yet I want to kill myself. The near overwhelming urge has no place in my life. I have a good, no, great life. And yet these bastard thoughts penetrate my brain for no reason. Knowing that telling people my thoughts, or that I had a plan, would likely place me in the hospital, I felt trapped. I don't have time to be hospitalized. I have family and school! Nowhere to go but hell. I don't want to kill myself, but the brain wants me too. The compulsion is a driving force that some of you have felt. It makes no sense.

I got home and began messaging one of my best friends that lives back in California. She is amazing and helped talk me down somewhat. My anxiety over my suicidal ideations began to subside somewhat. My therapist called and I was still barely able to keep it together. She asked how likely I was to act out my plan, on a scale of 1-5. I lied. Last night and earlier it was a 4 and heading towards a 5. I was still a strong 3-4, but I told her I was a 1-2. I know her well enough that if I had said 4, she was going to make sure I went to get help, or it would come to get me. It's her job. Talking to her helped more. 

I hate that there is no acute medication for depression. Anxiety, yes, depression, not so much. I have read interesting things about ketamine, but who knows when that may become available, and to whom. I asked my wife to call into work and make sure I was ok. It makes me feel awful when I have to ask that. She works nights, which can be some of the darkest times. No pun intended. 

I am still trying to work towards the TMS, but that is not an acute treatment. ECT is within the realm of possibilities, but not until the summer... which is a long way off as far as I am concerned. I felt an episode ramping up a couple of weeks ago, but did not know if it was going to be a small bump or a baseball bat to the face. Now I know. The only thing is that I do not know if it is over. Sometimes I build up to a big release and it slowly abates, but not always.


Trying to focus on the here and now and what I have to do to get to tomorrow and the next day helps. The end of the semester is nearing and shit is getting rough. So many things go many directions. I am preparing for a final practical this weekend that, well let's just put it like this, the midterm practical induced a good amount of drinking afterwards. Yes, I know, that is not good for my mental state. I got a 50% on that exam, which on his terms, equals a B. These exams are a blow to the ego and what I can only assuming is a leveling agent to weed out those that are not truly serious about their chosen academic path. 

Distraction and a checked-off list is the goal. Done with this, move on to that. Dear freaking god, I hope that continues to work or even works to a greater extent.


I would be lying if I said I am not afraid of the next few days and weeks. It is hard to say if it is a positive motivating factor or something that detracts from my daily life. I didn't really want to get on here and write, but I realized I had to face my feelings. They have been faced. If there is a motivating force behind this and all of us, I do not know what it is. Why do we all get up in the morning and do what we do? To survive? Because others do? To procreate and continue our species? I don't have a clue. As far as I'm concerned, I am alive because of my wife. The ECT she helped me through brought back a will to live. How the hell that happens is beyond me. I have told her before that she is either incredibly wonderful and gracious, or incredibly selfish for keeping me around for herself. Where will fear put me?

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