A Littered Start

I have so much to say it would take a lifetime to write down. Mind if I just write my thoughts here? I’m thinking of writing a book about my life. All the pain, hate, anger, love, loss and epiphanies all in one jumbled mess like it is in my brain….right here. I’ve had enough ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy) for it to be so. Any doctor who tells you there are no side effects from ECT is lying. My life is a blur, but the horrible memories I can remember easily. Strong, strong memories. I just need to get my thoughts down.

Anyone here have to plan out their sleep? Anyone afraid to go to sleep? That used to be me. I would lay out five sets of pajamas along with fresh towels because I knew I would be showering five times a night after waking in a shivering sweat from whatever nightmare I was having. I would line the bed with towels and stuff towels between my legs and under my armpits in the hope that they would absorb the sweat and I wouldn’t wake to an iceberg. It never worked. The fear was encapsulating. Thankfully, I can sleep peacefully (mostly). It’s amazing what stopping medications can do for you. Heh.

Yep. Sometimes the side effects aren’t worth the benefits. Remember that.

I’ve seen medication make people worse, especially Xanax. It’s currently hurting many of my friends. They’re all addicted to it. They all say they need it. They say they are nervous when they don’t have it. I’m thinking, for many of them it’s withdrawal. Withdrawal happened to me big time. I didn’t even know you could have withdrawal from Xanax. Thanks a lot, Doc.

So here’s a little story about Xanax. Woo!

(My ICU story later to come)

Yeah, I don’t feel like writing about that right now. Exhausted. Don’t feel like delving into that memory right now.

Maybe I should start with a little about me seeing as how I am planning to write a lot here. I hope that’s okay. I can provide what epiphanies I have discovered and hopefully can help myself and others relate to each other. I find that’s helpful to have others to listen to and speak with who are going through or have gone through similar hardships. Plus, I don’t want to write for myself. I won’t write for myself. I am completely unmotivated to write for myself. I’m very depressed and I just tell myself, “What for?” I guess I really need the support from y’all to keep writing. Don’t let me quit. 😉 This little blog right here is my start at actually doing something here in this bed.

Oh right, forgot that part. I’ve been bed-ridden for the better part of ten years. Depression, PTSD. Physically I’m as healthy as I can be for someone who never gets any sun nor exercise. I have endometriosis, but nothing a little Advil and Tramadol can’t handle (sort of). I am waiting for the major disease to appear. I know it will. Is that my depression talking or am I right? Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

Geeez this is exhausting. Have I taken my vitamin D today? I had my vitamin D checked by a psychiatrist who gave a shit. The other doctor (my PCM) said only old people have vitamin D deficiencies. Uh huh. Where the fuck did you go to med school? Ugh…don’t get me started.

When my vitamin D was checked, it was a 15. I guess it’s supposed to be between 30 and 70 with 30 being on the really low end. For anyone who doesn’t know, you get vitamin D from the sun, and it gives you energy. If you are really low on energy, you might want to have it checked. Couldn’t hurt, right?

Well, mine was at a 15, the point where organs start shutting down. That should show just how little sun I got and still get. My bed is my coffin. Yes, my body still isn’t happy. Woo! Depression! YEAH! Who can relate??? High five!!

So…..I’m on vitamin D3 pills, but I have to take them with food. I lack the energy to eat, but I know food will give me energy. I need the vitamin D. I need food. It’s all a circle really. Without them I’ll just continue to whither away. I know this, but yet it’s all too exhausting. Such a conundrum… a conundrum I am afraid will eventually kill me. Food, who knew it could give you energy? 😉

People think it’s easy to walk to the fridge and make something to eat when you have major depression. They don’t even know the half of it. I think I shower, maybe once a week. Ick. I look normal, aside from my unwashed hair and rail thin body, but my insides are far from it. It’s hard having a disease people can’t see. Well, they just assume I have an eating disorder (judgmental bastards). My family, and I’m sure others, think I’m just a lazy good-for-nothing human being. *sigh*

At lest I’m married to a wonderful man….. finally. There are many assholes out there, but that’s another part of my story best left for later.

I think I’m going to end here for now as I’m losing my way and my thoughts are all jumbled. Stumbled upon this site and read stories. Cried for a bit, wrote someone a message. Can’t hug everybody. Everybody’s too far away.

Be gentle with your constructive criticism. I’m fragile, but if you continue to read my stories, thank you, and I’ll appreciate whatever support and help you can give me. It’s also not my intention to offend anyone with my choice of words. I write what I feel. Sometimes it’s not pretty.

This is one of my strong days. I was motivated by someone’s post on this site. See? We’re helping each other. Thank you, Suicide Project. Now…. to make it to the fridge.

Be strong.