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Blog Entries posted by Dolphin2013

  1. Dolphin2013
    Today we had a little snow on the ground and it's very cold. Because it's so cold, I anticipated the roads being slick and there being accidents. I wanted to make sure my car was cleaned up and warmed before taking my son to work. I got up at my usual time, before 6AM, so I could have private time to write and my husband got up shortly after that.
    1) There goes my day. Writing time messed with.
    2) The cat wants to go out and I let him sniff the cold air. He's in but he's mad at me.
    3) My husband wants to go shovel before breakfast and I encourage him not to yet--it's still cold and dark. So he comes in, makes himself breakfast and sits down at his spot across from me at the table--it's far enough away that it's fine while I write, but still...
    4) then I go upstairs to get ready to go out and shovel a little, warm & wipe off my car, read a little email.
    5) DH is already shoveling. He didn't say he would. And really, I could have done a small amount to get my car out.
    6) I go out to see what I can do and I see he's knocked the snow off my car and I go ahead and start mine up & see what next needs to be done. I think I said thank you. Not sure.
    7) He starts working on his car. That's unusual. He works at home, so he rarely has to drive anywhere. He puts the shovel down and I go to pick it up because there are parts around my car I want to shovel.
    8) He yells at me, "Put it back!" I don't know why because he's going toward the porch where I assume he's either going to go inside for a second or get something to wipe some more snow away.
    8) "I said,'Put it back!!!!'" even more yelling. And the horrible look on his face, like I'm stupid and he has to make me understand and he's coming toward me.
    9) I yell back at him as I move and turn away, "I want to shovel some more around my car!"
    10) He might have said, "Oh." or, "I'm sorry." And all I do is yell back, "Sheesh!!," feeling righteous in my angry and non-conciliatory response.
    My words here do not convey the complete loss of civility in our tones of voices, his especially cut me to the quick and I'm feeling like crying and I feel that switch turned on that makes the anger response escalate in me. It's like a shift into 4th gear or something. All of a sudden being angry is easier than sitting with my feelings.
    Now I'm writing about it here.
    My stepfather was someone who treated me like I didn't understand anything. He called me a moron to my face. My mother's anger would turn into physical violence. The way my husband was in those moments, he seemed so unreasonably angry and I felt like I was in danger. We kissed a little later. But I just felt tired and I know I should go do exercise, but I just didn't feel like it. In fact--nope, even the bed I share with him doesn't seem like a safe place. I am afraid if I go among people, I'll feel raw and start crying.
    I have my therapy appointment later. it will be warming up a bit and it is sunny today at least. But for now, I'm going to take a little nap in my study and then a hot shower. Two things that will help.
  2. Dolphin2013
    I'm doing what I used to do when I was a teenager. I'm playing hookey from my exercise class!
    Starting when I was in 7th grade, I learned to ditch school. At first it was an adventure, with friends. But then in 8th grade, I transferred to a different junior high and lost daily contact with my best friend. Also I had a difficult time adjusting to the workload at the new school. It was supposed to be better academically, and I was fine in language arts, but the math and science were excruciatingly difficult.
    That meant there were concepts that I had to work at to learn and I was totally unprepared for the work of understanding math and science. Also, the science teacher hated me, but that's neither here nor there...
    I also was ill and then had my tonsils out. That was like nearly 3 weeks out and did I do any homework? Maybe a little, but I was so far behind that I got in the habit of just cutting school--the whole day, usually on Monday, so I could make up homework.
    I ended up in limbo on those classcutting days. I would ride the subways back and forth until the public libraries would open, or the museums. I would then spend my days in a library or the Museum of Natural History. Occasionally, I would ride the subway to some neighborhood I'd never been to and walk around. That was often scary. I guess the worst thing about my cutting school--besides lowering my grade so that I was no longer in the enrichment classes, and I had to take super slow math (I aced the regents exam, though after 2 years of algebra!), was the sense of homelessness I had. I would be gone for the day, alone in the city. And then head home when I was supposed to arrive home. No friends traveled with me. It wasn't for social reasons that I cut school. I did my homework, wrote papers. In the library, I read about birth control, hallucinogens and taught myself some Esperanto (which I do not remember to this day). My mother did not catch on until I almost didn't graduate high school, my attendance was so low!
    I felt that way today when I packed up a bunch of stuff to take with me as I got ready to take my son to work. After dropping him off, I sat in a café to write and reflect. No one knew where I was except for me.
  3. Dolphin2013
    This morning, I'm up before everyone else and there is not a thought in my head about suicide. When I was 17, I slit my wrists on New Years Day. I was strangely detached and happy at the thought of doing it. I had hidden a razor blade and set a kind of deadline: There was this man--he was much older than me and he was trying to arrange a threesome--if he didn't call on New Years Eve to invite me to this, that's kind of the initiation sequence. If he had called, I would have postponed slitting my wrists, but that was all.
    My mom and brother were home. I sat in my room and made two cuts. They weren't very deep, but it was interesting to see how the blood flowed. I felt very little emotion at that point. My mom knocked and came in and I held up my wrists and that shocked her into taking action. We went to the emergency room, saw a psychiatric doctor for intake and spent the next day at a facility where they did more intake.
    No one put me on anti-depressive medication; they only put me into talk therapy. I was scared of group therapy, so they had me see a doctor once a week. His name was Dr. Cho; he did not speak English very well. He would tell me that I had to be "more socialized." I think I saw him regularly for a couple of years, then began working full time and said goodbye.
    Today, is a new year's day and I feel good. Of course, I'm over 40 years past that time, so long ago, but I remember how I felt: I couldn't do anything. I felt miserable all the time. And when I wasn't feeling miserable, I was just blank. The only activities I engaged in were binge-eating (canned pasta) and having sex with strangers for the most part. I had one or two friends, was still in high school and nothing interested me. When I first told my mother about my feelings of depression, she took me to a psychologist in her H.M.O. and that person also recommended group therapy (hey, it was the '70s and that's what they did back then) and that was less expensive. I did not want to do group therapy, although I thought I might if I ended up institutionalized. My mom, a divorced working mother did not or could not spare the money.
    So I think the only thing I could do was force her hand.
    There was once a point not too long after that when I was also hitting bottom. I went on a trip with a small amount of money, convinced that as I hitchhiked across the country, I would be raped and killed. I wanted an end to the feeling of being trapped inside my mind which insisted I was stupid and useless.
    Instead, someone offered me a job and I stayed put.
    Depression never left me, but I have different ways to cope now. I have my meds. I love them. They help my brain turn things around for me. I have my family and my therapist. And friends.
    And I am so grateful to this forum. Here I learn so much from all of you and I feel accepted into a community that knows exactly where I've been and what I have gone through.
    Thank you.
  4. Dolphin2013
    Have not heard anything about the job possibility for my son. When we went to meet with the job people, it seemed like a situation that was not ideal. And people who don't have to have their care managed can decide to take a less than ideal situation, for the money, for as long as they need to, for the experience, but I can't lock my son into it.
    He's in a job club program right now, that's funded by a grant. They are studying ways to get people with autism better employment opportunities.
    See, if they're all different and my son has little ability or desire to do the kind of academic learning necessary for what he feels he really wants to do. I'm hoping this job club program will be useful for him.
    As for me, I made an appointment to donate blood. Haven't done it in over a year, because of depression. I started my meds just after my last appointment in August of 2013.
  5. Dolphin2013
    We have a son with a disability. He's an adult and although fairly independent, we are trying to plan ahead for when we are no longer here. To make a long story short, I try to manage his social services stuff. I'm not working full time or even part-time outside of this. Anyway, my spouse stepped in to do something for him and I was furious and afraid that he was taking over what I was doing and I'd have to deal with my son losing his financial support (very minimal, from the gov't).
    But this time, instead of losing my cool, I felt my fear, acknowledged it and was able to tell my husband what I was afraid of without sounding crazy, defensive, paranoid. He also took a better tone (instead of, his you-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about tone {well that's how I interpret it}) with me. So we hashed out some stuff, I did research and asked questions of the right people and got an answer that is a win-win-win.
    The only downside is it means more driving for me, since it involves taking our son to a work site and other places. But that's not a real problem.
    I think it's on account of the meds, that I was able to look at the situation so clearly. I am trying to take responsibility for my actions and feelings more--and this feels more internalized, like it's not someone else chiding me about a better way to be.
  6. Dolphin2013
    But I don't feel bad. I feel sad, a bit, but proud of the way my team took the field and worked it.
    Today there was a rally at the stadium to honor them, but I couldn't go--because I'd only gotten 2 hours of sleep that night after recovering from a migraine.
    That's confusing. Yesterday I:
    --had a migraine and slept most of the day
    --was up in time to see Game 7, all of it and see the Royals lose. They didn't lose big, just by one run.
    --Slept a bit and then got up in the middle of the night, my head spinning with thoughts...had not taken my mirtazapine, that's why!
    Oh well, there's always next year!
  7. Dolphin2013
    Well, my team played, played super well and now we've got one more game to go.
    I feel a lot better.
    I had a long talk with my brother, who lives in the Bay Area where the Giants team is. I don't think he's too attached to them and the point is, we both agreed, it's important to love the team even if they lose.
    I think me and my family feel that way.
  8. Dolphin2013
    I posted in Depression Central, but I might as well post here. Please, this is not trivial. My son got into watching baseball, specifically, the Royals, on TV.
    Now the whole family is hooked, but it's very upsetting to me because the Royals are not the sweeping effervescent team they were in the first part of the postseason.
    And my depression and ADD are fighting my good medication and good habits I've been working on.
    I had to take Xanax to sit through the past 2 games. Tonight I'm not taking anything until it's bedtime. But I'm not watching TV right now.
    I just hear my son and husband groaning and the roar of the unfriendly crowd in San Francisco.
    There are 2 more games after this one, the Royals's last chance, but they will be home games, so there may be a chance.
    I am someone who is terribly frightened by competition, but I am engaged in a "friendly" wager with someone on FB. But I hate when anyone can lord something over me. I suppose I might be like that too, but I am quick to conciliate with, "your team did a good job too" in as soothing a tone as I can muster.
    This intense attention to the games is turning me into someone I don't like. And I don't know how sports enthusiasts can stand it!!!!
  9. Dolphin2013
    Okay--I began to recover from depression this time around and began reading stuff online about women being misdiagnosed--usually for depression--instead of ADD. Because the ADD girl usually is sitting in the back daydreaming instead of racing around the classroom.
    When I looked at my school and job history, I asked my pdoc if it was possible. He sent me to a psychologist who does evaluations, and it came up that I have AD/HD, Primarily Inattentive type. ADHD meds were recommended as a well as a coach.
    My pdoc started me on Strattera and I am having some pretty good mood and brain changes taking it and my anti-d, bupropion. I get stuff accomplished and yesterday I just had an all-around good day.
  10. Dolphin2013
    I swear this has been so bad, I often could not remove myself from the chair where I was sitting with the laptop, shuttling between Facebook and this game I play. I couldn't get up to put the laptop away, to get the mail, make myself something to eat. I imagined my butt sticking to the chair and getting oozing sores that would get infected and I'd die.
    And it wouldn't matter. Life would go on without me, probably better than with me.
    That's when I knew I needed to see a doctor.
  11. Dolphin2013
    I want to blog but noticed that there are links for FB, Twitter, etc. Can I remove those? I don't want anyone outside of DF reading my blog posts.
    Also, what is meant by "Guest" in Settings? Is that Guests who are Members or any person just looking through the forums here?
  12. Dolphin2013
    I'm not sure what I want out of this journal/blog, but I started posting something in the Remeron forum and I realized I wanted to make it more personal.
    So this is it. I'm in my upper 50's, post-menopausal. I'm married, for nearly 30 years now. My husband is gainfully employed. I am not. I work part-time, for low pay. It's not too stressful a job and I've cut my hours down because I want the time.
    Depression History: I've been depressed my whole life, starting probably before I was 2 years old. Slit my wrists when I was 17 (not serious enough to hospitalize me at the time, but I had to go to the emergency room). Started seeing a doctor every week, but no meds.
    Through my late teens and early 20s I used alcohol & illegal drugs and food as self-medicating agents, I suppose. They helped me be more social, and I made it through college and then started grad school, where I met my husband.
    Got depressed (suicidal ideation) and went to the local mental health center. No health insurance at the time. I was in a day-therapy program (3 days a week) the year I turned 30, just 2 years after getting married. Again, not working except part-time at that time. I had quit grad school also about a year after getting married.
    We moved--husband's job and had a baby. Post-partum depression, of course and being away from friends I loved. I saw a therapist for a brief while during that time.
    Then we moved again for DH's job. Our baby was diagnosed with autism at age 4. Pretty severe, but he's higher functioning now. Can you imagine trying to create a new life somewhere and dealing with all this? I just lived with this, hanging on, trying exercise now and then, going to Overeater's Anonymous and getting religion for myself.
    In my mid-40s we were getting ready to move again, just to the suburbs for my son's school. My DH's mom died and his dad became suicidal & hospitalized. I felt like I'd caught a virus. My suicidal thoughts kept coming and coming. Now that my son was in the new school, my husband was successful and vested in his job, I reasoned, no one needed me anymore. I sprained my ankle badly and didn't know how to do anything for myself. I would get up in the morning to get my son to school. Then I would go home and go back to bed. My son and the kitten we adopted, who would curl up on my chest and purr whenever I was lying down were the only things that kept me alive. Whole days would disappear.
    By winter of that year, I began thinking more and more about suicide and at my regular visit to my doctor, I told her. She gave me the number of a therapist (who I still see but who's out of network, so I don't see her a lot) and a prescription for Wellbutrin. My new therapist was utterly surprised that with my history of depression, no one had prescribed meds for me until then.
    That was about 13 years ago. That's enough for now. I'll write more later.
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