Monday, June 6, 2011

Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I was diagnosed with having Depression when I was a teenager.  Since then I have been medicated, with the exception of most of my Navy days.  Lately I have been just down in the dumps.  In reality, I have not felt this bad in years.  At times in my life I have had suicidal thoughts, at one point I landed on a pysch unit for a week.  Medication has always helped me find a balance.

I was on Cymbalta for a few years, which seemed to be working okay.  I have never been one to notice side effects or what symptoms have eased or gotten worse.  I am finding that I am starting to notice a lot of things that aren't right, now.  About a year ago I was finally diagnosed with having ADHD.  I had thought for years I could have it, but never put the effort into getting tested.  So last year I finally did it and it was kind of a relief to know that some of my more annoying character flaws were because of some chemical fluctuations in my brain.  My pdoc (short for psychiatrist) put me on some meds for the ADHD and we talked about coming off the Cymbalta.  At the time he described how ADHD symptoms can masquerade as depression, so perhaps we'd see some depression symptoms lessen.

I started out on Vyvanase.  Nope, felt awful.  As if I were having an anxiety heart, racing was awful.  Stopped the Vyvanse.  Took Concerta.  Same thing.  Tried Intuniv...same thing.  I was beyond frustrated.  I finally knew what was wrong with me and none of the meds were working.  I almost gave up on meds.  Then pdoc put me on Daytrana.  It's a stimulant, just like the other three, except Daytrana is delivered in a patch.  It never gave me that "speedy" feeling.  In fact, I felt MOTIVATED to do shit!  For about a month I started and completed new projects, stuff I had been putting off for YEARS.  It was like I finally felt almost right.

A month or so went by and I started to notice that all I had was motivation to do things.  I still had no focus (my number two goal, right behind motivation), I still would start one thing and be distracted a million times before completing what I originally started.  This has been going on for many months, but I am also a person who hates to be the squeaky wheel.  I didn't want to keep bugging my pdoc (I know.  I KNOW!), as we have done more medication changes in the last year than I had in the previous 10 years.  So I let it go. 

So along with now focus, I also have extremely poor impulse control AND horrible, vile, terrible irritability.  I must be a complete asshole to live with.  This I know.  The impulse control comes up when I am home bored (which is every single day) with Cam.  My child probably thinks Target is a second home.  Target also must looooove me.  I have managed to drive our credit card debt up substantially.  You can imagine how the bread-winner of the family feels about this.  It is mostly an agreeable marriage we have, until money comes up.  I know no one else in the world has this problem, right?

So I finally wrapped my defective brain around the fact that spending money you don't have is no bueno.  As if it's a new concept to me.  In some ways it is, I grew up never having to ever worry about money.  As the youngest child my parents babied me until...well, until I was in my mid-thirties.  Shameful, no?  In the Navy I had no bills, all that money was spending money!  Woooooooo!  After I got out, I slummed around living with a friend, having no job, living off of unemployment.  I then came into a considerable pile of cash when my bio dad died.  An active alcoholic with no job, and a big-ass bank account?  Yeah, you can imagine how that went.

So I sober up and make good on a lot of my character defects.  I never bothered to tackle my money issues.  Now that chicken has come home to roost.  I was laid off over two years ago, many circumstances led me to NOT go back to work, the latest being Cam.  I have been on the hot-seat for about six months now, needing to get at least a part-time job.  I hate it.  I hate having to leave Cam.  I hate anything new.  I hate putting myself out there.  Oh, another first for me?  A job interview.  Yes, three weeks shy of 40, I have never been on a job interview.  Every job I have ever had has been with family, a family friend, or the Navy.  Petrified.  Shitting bricks.

So to bring it back 'round, my depression has decided to kick me in the ass.  HARD.  After a particularly bad fight with Rob yesterday I had a couple of revelations during my 3+ mile walk home:   1) men can be righteous ASSHOLES;  2) I probably need my meds tweaked;  3) it won't be the end of the world to get my ass back in the work force; 4)  Cam could use some socialization (have I mentioned how she likes to walk up to babies/adults and smack them in the face?  My baby is just so damn sweet.). 

You ever pass by someone who is obviously crying?  Or even worse has the ugly face that comes after all the crying?  That was me.  Walking through our very busy, congested cute little city.  Down roads I grew up on.  I am sure loads of people I know passed by me.  At about mile one I just stopped giving a shit that people were staring.   When I stormed off from Rob, I had the presence of mind to grab my mug of tea, a burp cloth to blow my nose in, and some cash.  Once the tears started they just kept coming.  And man, when I cry, it's an UGLY cry.  I cried so much yesterday that my eyes are practically slits today, which is probably why Cam keeps looking at me funny.  The good news is that I recognize just how awful and horrible I feel and called for help.  My mother calls it "gumption" or, more precisely "not taking shit". 

I call it revenge.  Don't pepper me with (some mostly true) insults and think you've got the best of me, because I will prove you wrong. 

I suppose that IS gumption.

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