Q

Hopeless Still. Trying Still.

It’s been a hellish week. In session today, as I’m telling E how alone I feel, she asks me if I’ve been blogging.

“Not so much,” I say. “There’s nothing to write. I’m very depressed. I can’t see a way out of this. Everything I’d been doing, things that I thought were working, have all turned into dead ends for me. What is the point of writing about that? I don’t want to discourage others.”

She thinks I should keep writing, so I am, good little obedient client. But if you already feel discouraged or despairing, you might want to skip this post. I won’t be cheering you up.

Why I am not any more hopeful than I was a week ago:

  • The lithium makes my stomach hurt so I can’t eat in the morning but hasn’t done anything for my mood.
  • I reached out to 19 psychiatrists listed on my new insurance plan. Some only treat children. Out of those who treat adults, most are not accepting new patients. I have two left that haven’t yet responded to the messages I left last Wednesday.
  • I feel very alone and told myself maybe I need to reach out more. So I told a couple of people just a little bit about how I’m feeling. One said, “Oh, too bad, hope you feel better soon.” One said, “That sucks. Maybe we can get together at the end of January?” I don’t blame them–they have lives, and I know I’m not fun to hang out with. But I feel like there’s just E, who I see once a week, and then for a week, I’m on my own again. It’s a long time.
  • I feel I should try to talk to my husband, so I did yesterday. But he got off on the idea of convincing me that I wasn’t a bad person, so I should stop thinking that way. It became frustrating.

I’m starting to think there is a big pot of rage in me, getting hotter and hotter, and Depression’s job is to clamp down on it and keep it from boiling over. To do that, she ends up having to make everything, not just the pot, small and meaningless.

I tell E in therapy that if the lithium doesn’t help, I’m thinking about just going off medication. I’m not sure it’s ever helped me. I’ve only turned suicidal when I’ve already been on psychiatric meds. Maybe I’d still be depressed without them, but who knows, perhaps it wouldn’t be as intense?

E looks skeptical.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I won’t just stop taking everything over night. I know to wean myself off of it, so I won’t get so sick.”

She frowns. “I’d still rather you do it under supervision of a psychiatrist. I hope you’ll find one you like, someone you feel you can trust.”

I doubt it, but it’s nice she hopes so.

She wants to know what helped this week. “There were three times this week,” I tell her, “when I felt better for a few hours. One was after I saw C [for a mind/body therapy appointment]. I think it was the touch and the work on my neck, on pressure points. One was after I burned myself on Saturday. That released something, and I felt better for maybe half a day. On Sunday I had a rescheduled massage. I had a very hard time letting go. I swear I spent half of it weighing the pros and cons of different suicide methods. But towards the end the noise in my head quieted down, and I felt calm. That lasted for the rest of the evening.”

She doesn’t love that burning myself is one of the things in there, but out of that list we have the brilliant insight that there’s a role for my body in this. She wonders if we can build off that in non-harmful ways. Hot tubs or hot springs? Ecstatic dance? She lists some options in town. I think, ugh, sounds like a lot of effort. She tells me there’s an incredible anger workshop on an island in British Columbia. Not only is that a lot of effort, but it’s expensive and it’s in March. Whereas I am dying right now.

She asks me, “Where do you feel it now, this pain, this depression? Where in your body?”

“It’s in my neck,” I tell her. “And it’s like a blockage in my throat.” She’s convinced this means I have more to tell her. But I don’t know what that would be.

Based on the title of this post, I planned to tell you I am not only still hopeless, but also that I am still trying despite the despair. Here’s the evidence:

  • I reached out to 19 psychiatrists, which took hours.
  • I went to therapy session even though I knew E couldn’t do anything.
  • I did not scream “Are you effing kidding me?!?” when E suggested things I could do to make myself feel a little better.
  • I have spent a long time thinking about different ways to kill myself but I haven’t allowed myself to research any of them.

I can’t believe I need to make it through another week now by myself. How is this even possible?

22 comments

  2. Oh, Q. I’m so sorry you are doing depressed. You might be right about the boiling pot of rage. I’ve often heard that depression is anger turned inwards. But, I’m pretty sure that depression covers anger in general. I know it sounds like a lot of work, especially when you just want to be in bed with the covers pulled over your head, but maybe starting with a few swipes at a punching bag or turning on angry music and stomping your feet even while sitting on the couch. Q, I wish I was there to hold your hand.

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    • Thanks for your kind words, Patty. I wish you were here to hold my hand too! I would appreciate that. I think your idea of some angry music is a good idea. Too tired right now, but maybe later?

      I don’t actually fee angry right now. But that doesn’t mean the anger isn’t there.

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    • The psychiatrist search just adds to the sense of hopelessness. I don’t really believe that a psychiatrist is going to be able to help. But the idea that I can’t even find one seems to prove that I’m not meant to get out of this.

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  4. Q…hugs, and more hugs. So much hurt. I’m glad you are posting. I know it’s hard sometimes, I’ve been bad about it, too, feeling overwhelmed, put of sorts, whatever. But I know I feel better when I participate in blogging. It’s not so lonely then.

    I hate body stuff, and I’ll deny to Bea that I ever said this (😜) but it sounds like sensory motor therapy, or some other body based stuff might help. Maybe yoga? There are so many yoga classes on you tube now, you wouldn’t even have to leave the house.

    And anger…oh anger. Maybe some of that rage needs to come out? Maybe you need to be allowed to throw a tantrum and have melt down in a safe space where you don’t damage anything?

    I can hear that you are trying, and I’m thankful for that. Don’t give up, okay? And keep writing. Xx

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    • I think yoga would help if I had just a bit more energy. But I used to be a regular yoga practitioner and loved it. Then I let my work life get out of control, so no more time for yoga. Then I got burnt out and quit my job. And now I’m just a vegetable. However, if I get hit by lightening or something, I will check out a class online or go back to a studio where I used to take classes.

      You hate body stuff? All body stuff? I like it most of the time because when my head spins off into long stories of self-loathing, it is helpful to ground myself back into my body.

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      • Try an online class. Maybe a 10 minute bedtime yoga class? That might be an easy way to get back to it. I’ve been a bit of a vegetable too. It’s okay to rest sometimes. I got out the last few days because Kat is now into Pokemon Go, and so it is my job to walk and get to all the pokestops so she can have balls and potions you need to play. Oy vey. I have to admit the game is fun and a bit addicting. 😂

        I love yoga, but I’m always more focused on what I’m doing, where my foot is going, where my body needs to be in space to create a shape. I’m not spinning out then, but I’m not in my body either. Being aware of my body is just so triggering. I wish it weren’t, and it seems that most people find it safe to ground into their body. I just struggle with feeling safe. If you want, choose a yoga class online, and post which one you are going to do. I bet other bloggers would take that class too. We could all comment and discuss the class….would that help?

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  5. I am really glad you posted what all you are struggling with. I miss it when you don’t blog. I am so sorry you’re struggling so much. Insurance plans, loneliness, trying to reach out to others, suicidal thoughts….I have struggled/am struggling now with each of these. I have no suggestions but a guess a request. Please try to keep writing. We on here (the blogging world) care and even though we can’t be there in person I think we can count ourselves as friends. Hugs to you.

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    • It’s funny though. For a while I did feel I was making progress, mostly. And I iked sharing that. I liked having it resonate for others. I liked encouraging people. So now I kind of feel all that’s erased, and I’m back in the pit of despair and maybe it’s not good for people to read about it…

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  8. The chatter in my head that judges my every move before I make it, if I could get it to shut up id be well on my way to recovering from childhood abuse and a marriage w/ domestic violence.

    There are times when I start a journal entry by saying I’ve got nothing to say, I’m just checking in. Sometimes I don’t have anything to say but other times stuff starts coming out and I end up splitting the writing into 2 entries.

    There’s no need to write an article style, informative entry unless that is what you want to do. This is YOUR journal, YOUR space. And maybe, during the time you wait to see E, you can use this space to say what you would say if you were sitting in front of her.

    I think I will depress people or worry them if I say the things I really want to say.

    Note to self – My blog is for and about me. I don’t want to drag people down but too, people must be responsible for themselves. It means a lot to me that people read, I won’t act like it doesn’t, but they must read knowing my website touches on hard subjects.
    Faith

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  9. “I can’t believe I need to make it through another week now by myself. How is this even possible?”

    You aren’t alone! Your comrades-in-arms are still here! I’m reblogging you Love.

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  11. i have the neck and constricted throat too: I put it down to sadness, extreme sadness. Crying bottled up. As dangerous as the anger. I read somewhere many abuse some-of-the-time-survivors are afraid to start crying because they (we) might never stop again! I’ve recently joined the survivor conversation in the blogosphere. I was trying to deny it even though it was uppermost in my thoughts most of the time. No use denying anything. The support I’ve found, even when people write about their despair, is invaluable. It proves I’m not just a dunce and a self-centred emotional blackmailer, which is what I’m called by people supposed to be close to me. I’m also alone. Most of the time it’s fine but when I’m feeling down or ill it’s painful. I live in nature so that helps. Yoga helps too. Meditation is beyond me at the moment. I chucked the pills. Not sure if it is a good thing or not. I was in a bit of a state the other day: plenty of pain. I knew I had half a pain-killer, paracetemol only, here somewhere and actually looked for it!

    Trying to tell someone to ‘be well’ as a parting greeting is stupid so I won’t. But keep writing, even the bad stuff, it helps me and others. Glad to have met you.

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    • Thank you for writing, and “welcome” to the blogosphere. I think you’ll find a lot of support here among fellow abuse survivors. For me, it’s helped both to know that others have similar experiences (I’m not just weird, moody or obsessively fixated on myself for no reason) and to learn from other people’s experiences with therapy, yoga, meditation, medication and other attempts to feel better.

      I will say that I now feel quite a bit better than I did when I first wrote this post–so that’s one more reminder that even those dark periods that seem endless have an end.

      Glad to meet you as well. Let’s stay in touch.

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