Just Keep Swimming...

Hey, it's me again. It's been awhile; eight months this time. Thanks again to those of you who read every time I post. Feel free to comment and share if anything resonates with you. This is therapeutic for me and if it can help anyone else, I'd love that. If you are reading my blog for the first time, I invite you to check out some earlier posts that describe my journey with mental illness, starting here. For general information on Schizoaffective Disorder, visit https://g.co/kgs/7sk4iZ.  

The last few weeks have been rough. I've been having some visual and auditory hallucinations and my "backup emergency med"(Risperdal) has had to be added to my daily routine to help curb this. One positive to this is that I've been sleeping better since adding it to my nightly routine. I have been seeing people and objects in my peripheral vision that aren't really there, and hearing voices and random noises. Thankfully I do not typically experience "command-type" hallucinations, and I've been devoid of delusions for quite some time now (at least, that I'm aware of. Now I will probably drive myself crazy with paranoia wondering if I'm experiencing any delusions). 

I've had a few spells of suicidality lately as well, which have seemingly come from nowhere. I hate when it gets that dark. My "normal" has become dysthymic over the last couple years (Click to read information about dysthymia if you are unaware). Sometimes when life just gets to be too much I start to shut down and sink lower until the darkness creeps in. I don't self-harm. Not actively, anyway. I do engage in self-destructive behaviors at times, such as overeating and sleeping too much, but as to actually harm myself, I don't have the nerve. Because of this I doubt that I could ever take my own life, but there's also a part of me inside that thinks that offing myself will be the way I eventually die. I consciously know that I have no good reason to commit suicide, I know that my life could be much worse, I know that I have abundant blessings in my life, but mental illness does not take any of that into consideration. It strikes at times for no apparent reason, and the reality is that it can grab hold of anyone's life. 

I've been hospitalized twice in the past for almost committing suicide. Once in 2012 and once in 2017. Both times I had plans to overdose on all my psych meds. Now, I'm terrified to do that since having gastric sleeve surgery -- if I were to fail at killing myself, I would be in a LOT of pain and discomfort due to the small size of my stomach and having to have it pumped. I could "ruin" my sleeve as well, which could reverse all the progress I've made with weight loss. I've lost just over 100 pounds since last December when I had the procedure done. A lot of people don't know that I had weight loss surgery (WLS). Part of me feels ashamed because I didn't lose the weight on my own. But the better part of me is just proud that I took a big step to get part of my life back. I take so many psychiatric medications and the number one side effect for most of them is weight gain. Over the last several years of treatment I had gained well over 100 pounds and I'm just now getting back to my wedding weight. I am still about 15 pounds overweight. My weight has remained the same for about 2 months now. I'm going to have to work hard with exercise to get the last bit off.

Losing weight has been good for my self-esteem. I can wear sizes now that I haven't been able to in over a decade. My high school weight is actually in sight. My blood pressure is phenomenal and my blood sugar is always normal now. I was on blood pressure medication at the age of 24, and prediabetic due to my excess weight and poor dietary habits. I generally like what I see in the mirror. So, I'm thankful for my WLS and that my husband was supportive of it and that my insurance took care of it. 

In thinking about it, (and my psychiatrist agrees) the increase in my symptoms lately could be due to this time of year and season. Around this time three years ago, I was beginning to exhibit signs of mania, which would eventually lead to my full-blown psychotic break on December 31, 2016. I am reminded every day of the signs as I view my Facebook Memories. I was adding friends by the dozens, most of whom I did not really know, and posting a lot of weird stuff. Even with my education and experience in mental health, I was not self-aware enough to realize what was going on at the time. In anyone else, I would've been able to identify the symptoms and predict what would occur next.

In addition to my psychiatric symptoms (and I haven't even mentioned my anxiety lately), I've been having some physical illness as well. I have had several spells of nausea and vomiting. I know that I overate at Thanksgiving and I'm sure that contributed to being sick for a few days afterward. My new stomach is small and sensitive, and I am still learning just how much I can eat and what I can eat in general. Being physically ill, having near-daily bouts of anxiety, psychosis, and suicidal thoughts is a humongous storm that I've been taking on the last few weeks. 

In saying all of this, however, I have to acknowledge what is going right in my life. I'm convinced that the only way I've been able to manage this (in addition to therapy and medication) is my great support system. My husband is my #1 go-to for everything. He listens, analyzes, prays, and stays in contact with my doctor. My mom is my biggest cheerleader and always encourages me and prays over me. My mother-in-law, father-in-law, and sister-in-law always lend a helping hand if I need help with the kids or really anything in general. I know I couldn't be doing as well as I am without any of them. I thank God for my family, and a couple friends that I can reach out to. I don't do it often because I don't want to be a burden, but I do occasionally text with a select few who can identify with what I'm going through. I think that having support is the secret to keeping my head above water when everything else is trying to drown me. That being said, if anyone reading this is struggling with thoughts of suicide or any other issue related to mental health, I want to be here for you. I encourage you to intentionally seek out individuals who can be a part of your support system. You can start with me. 

I will just keep swimming, until better days come. I pray that you can do the same. 

ETA: I had my disability hearing in July 2019 and was approved for Social Security Disability in September 2019. This has been a huge relief off my shoulders and we are in a much better place financially.

When Life Hits You Like a Ton of Bricks

Well, it's been almost nine months since I posted here. As much as writing is therapeutic for me, it's hard to find the desire or motivation to organize my thoughts and put them together in this way. Thank you to those of you who continue reading despite my lapses in writing.

Living with Schizoaffective Disorder is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Life will never, ever be the same again. I mourn my old life and my old self daily. My husband says that different doesn't have to be bad. I agree with him, but this different is a hard pill to swallow.

Up until this week, I had been doing "alright" for a few months. No major highs or lows, just some dysthymia and a few cases of minor psychosis. I was smiling more and some people even commented that they could tell I was doing some better. While this change was welcome, it still wasn't the same. My smile could only last so long and my happiness was always dampened by the overwhelming reality that I have a serious mental illness that will never change. My husband and I even enjoyed a cruise in March but my happiness could only go so far. The last time I felt true happiness, joy, elation even was on the verge of my psychotic break in 2016. I have yet to feel that type of emotion since. My family means the world to me and my two little boys are the reason I'm still here, but admittedly the feelings of happiness associated even with that are limited. It's like there is a roadblock in my brain that won't allow me to feel more than a fraction of what I used to feel.

Then, this week, depression, anxiety, and symptoms of PTSD came down on me, hard. I can't seem to find a reason why it hit this time. It seems like this is just part of my life now: be "okay" for a little while and then feel terrible for a while longer. I know that spirituality is a trigger for me now, but I don't know why all of a sudden the symptoms came when they did. As most of you know, my relationship with God has greatly changed since I became ill. I have a fear of becoming too close to God because of the role religiosity played in my psychotic break. I won't rehash the details since most of you have read all about that, but if you haven't you can start here: https://wisdomwrinkles.blogspot.com/2017/07/part-1-of-5-living-with-serious-mental.html. I haven't sang a solo in church since, and I have even stopped singing with the congregation. It's hard to admit all this, especially since my husband is a pastor. I feel as though I have failed him as well as everyone at our church. I feel so disconnected and conflicted that there are times when I don't even know what I believe anymore. I know I believe in God, and it is important to me that our children are in church and learning about God, but I do not have a peace in my spirit. Reading the Bible feels
stagnant, and I rarely do it. I sometimes pray, but I feel guilty about praying and asking for things when I feel so far from God. I struggle with the fact that he hasn't healed me and probably never will.

I've been having flashbacks of my psychotic break and the events surrounding it. Even though it's been over two years, it feels as real as yesterday. The thoughts interrupt the most basic of tasks. I become so depressed that I literally feel like I can't do anything but sleep. I slept 3 hours during the day yesterday and would have slept more if I didn't have to get my kids to and from school. My anxiety keeps creeping up to the point that I can't handle it (even more than usual), and I struggle to breathe normally as these thoughts invade my head. Part of me thinks that I've been subconsciously distancing myself from God to keep from dealing with all of this, because thinking about God dredges it all back up. Additionally, this week I've been disoriented while driving and unable to figure out how to get to routine places. It's beyond scary.

I often wish I were dead; more so this week. I'm not actively suicidal as I don't have any plans or a means specified, but just the thought that I'd be better off dead pervades my thoughts regularly. I know it has to be exhausting living with me and the constant issues that come with mental illness, and I feel like me being gone would be a much-needed respite for my family. I'm not a good mother. I don't say that for attention or for compliments. It's how I genuinely feel. I'm not nurturing, I don't keep routines with them, I can't keep house, and my fuse with them is short. I wish I was the mother I dreamed of being. As much as I want to change, my illness holds me back. I have little energy and motivation. Despite this, as I mentioned earlier, the only things that keeps me from being actively suicidal are my children. I know that they are already predisposed to mental health issues, and losing a mother to suicide would only bolster their chances of struggling with mental illness.

I'm not really sure the purpose of this post other than trying to cope with everything that's going on, and continuing to shed light on mental illness. I welcome questions and comments, so feel free to give me a shout.