For today’s blog, I thought I’d take us back and show you where my head was exactly one year ago today. This is one of my most raw, real, emotional, and vulnerable pieces yet. Showing you all a glimpse of my head. My prized possession, my journal, leaked in some ways.
It’s insane reading this a year later. Some of the thoughts I resonate with, others I gasp at. Reading this brought back memories I don’t care to remember. I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t on this earth it felt like. As if I was just floating above my body and family, watching myself be this zombified, comatose, mess.
Here are my thoughts, close to this time even, one year ago today:
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Three Days Post Discharge
12-05-22
“It’s 10:41pm, I’m numb and empty. I keep going in and out of completely numb and dissociated, to feeling everything at once and hysterically balling. I got discharged from the behavioral unit on the 2nd. It’s been a rough transition back to reality and my life.
The medication changes are quite literally kicking my ass. I seem to have energy for a few hours after taking the new medication, but like clockwork here comes the hurricane. It’s been consistent the past three days of hitting a wall of fatigue, nausea, headaches and overall numb and depressed around 4-5pm.
I’ve been laying down to sleep that away, but wake up more numb than before I laid down. I utterly hate and don’t understand how they’re changing your medications to make you better, but it takes weeks for your brain, body, EVERYTHING to adjust. It also doesn’t make sense how the number one side effect is worse depression and worsened suicidal thoughts. On top of the fatigue, nausea, headaches and numbness.
I feel awful for my mom. She’s doing everything she can and asking if there’s anything she can do to try and help but I have no answers. I continue to tell her this is how it is and I’m sorry. If I knew something that would flip the switch, I’d have done it years ago. She’s so worried. She can’t help but ask me if I’m going to do something and cop out. Her reminders to me of the love and support I have is starting to get to me, because I am well aware.
I hate how much it affects not only me but my mom as well any time I go through a depressive stage, a medication change, or change in my life. She feels what I feel, sometimes harder. She doesn’t have depression or bipolar disorder, but when you watch your daughter dive deep into her hole, it’s easy for her to get situational depression. That’s a super cool superpower I didn’t ask to have. Giving your mom depression when you’re already down bad.
One of my favorite quotes that I think signifies any mother-daughter relationship is this, “mothers and daughters existing as wretched mirrors of each other: I am all you could have been and you are all I might be.”
The love and support is part of what makes this all so confusing, for everyone involved. I feel bad for everyone who cares about me right now. The worry they feel, the feeling of being helpless to help me sometimes. Welcome to my life, feeling helpless and hopeless more than I’d wish on anyone.
I learned so much in the unit and met absolutely amazing people. It’s weird to say I kind of miss it. The silence, no technology, mutual understanding with everyone there with no explanations or looks of pity and confusion.
I’ve been extremely overstimulated after leaving the hospital. The decisions and life I left for a week is still here. Now, I have to deal with it, cope and come back to the reality that is my life right now. I miss so many things. Unfortunately, I’m getting worse before I’ll get better. That’s how she goes sometimes.
I’m positively hoping Sertraline is the golden ticket that helps me become more reflective with issues and everyday things. I’m tired of being shot and sunk into a dark hole where I can hardly see the light. I naively thought as I’d grow up, this would all get better. I’d be stronger. Boy was I wrong. Quite the opposite from what’s occurring.
I can’t stop thinking about the mess I’ve made of my life. I’m merely a fool. A sick, depressed, confused, anxious fool. Everyone wants to see me since I’ve been discharged. I appreciate and love that so much, still, I’m overstimulated and only want to talk to like three people and two others I met in the unit.
They’ve been great to talk to and help me as they feel similar leaving that place. My support system is genuinely patient and understanding with me. They aren’t pushing it by any means but it still makes me feel like shit not seeing everyone. Karlee is simply not here.
I feel like I keep getting worse. They say it’ll get worse before it gets better and I understand that. I can't wait to feel somewhat normal and human again. Counseling should be interesting this week. Maybe she’ll send me back. Who knows.
I simply can’t fake happiness, interest, or anything right now. Like Morgan Wade says, “why do the demons in my mind, never wanna leave me alone?” Like seriously, WHY?! The only thing I’ve somewhat kept up on since leaving is hygiene, and that’s mostly because I love baths.
I’m disorganized, have multiple things I need to get done and even the ‘fun’ smoking, TV, and piano seems impossible some days. I played piano today and it was so good. I need to force myself to play more often. I usually feel better afterwards. Piano was my vice before I even knew what a vice was. I’m super grateful I have the musical ability I do and am able to play such an astonishing instrument.
Mom’s been decorating for Christmas and I love that shit but feel no interest to help this time. I want to. I hope I’ll find it in myself to do it tomorrow. I wish my mom could relax and sleep. This is taking a toll on her, bad. I feel awful. I want to be her happy China Doll who she trusts and doesn’t worry about all the time.
I’m trying to plan shit but when it comes time for the event, I can’t do it. Everyone’s being so kind and patient with me. I can’t wrap my head around it. What did I do to deserve that?
I deeply want to be better. I want to feel interest in my favorite things again. I want the will to live. I want to be happy. I’m going to go and check on mom and make my way outside for my nightly smoke. Which, by the way, have only been doing once, twice or not at all since being discharged. It helps me sleep and relax. Sometimes it brings out emotions I didn’t know I had bottled up all day too. This disappoints mom and that hurts me to do that to her, but it’s one of the few things that helps me right now.
I hope tomorrow is better. We start the two tablets to equal 100 mg tomorrow for the first time. We also will be on our first day without any tapering of Pristiq, with no Pristiq at all. So, we’ll see.
-no xoxo from KayJo at home"
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If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this. This is a prime example of a situation where you need to get worse before you can get better. I was there 100%. I hope this gives someone hope for their future and brings them some sort of inner peace knowing that time truly can do wonders. You change, evolve and grow every single day. When you think of it like that, 365 days of evolving, changing and growing can definitely change you and your mindset as well.
Take care and remember to always give yourself some grace.
-xoxo Karlee Jo