I have had a lot of blogs. Some of them still exist on the Internet, like this one (still active) and that one and this one and even that one over there, but most of them have been abandoned, unrecoverable and past the point of relevancy in my life.
I'm not good at finishing things I start. I tend to get bored, lose my way, have another idea, or get discouraged, until I find the next shiny thing to chase. Maybe that's one of my "symptoms," but it's also part of who I am. I know it, I appreciate it as both facet and flaw, and I roll with it. I might revisit this, you know, if I feel like it, but I have other stuff to write about now.
This blog is very likely to end up being mostly stuff I need to tell my therapist. She's a good therapist. I like her. I trust her. She knows that journaling helps me to put my ducks in a row, so I can get a clear shot at them, or something. So, if you're not into reading the introspective ramblings of a 35-year-old woman who has been variously diagnosed with borderline, bipolar, major depression, PTSD and anxiety disorder, go look at kittens or something.
So, to the task at hand. What's going wrong in my "right now":
1. My husband does not have cancer.
Oh, yes, this is a good thing, but I don't know what to do with all the stress and effort I stored up just in case the biopsy had shown malignancy. We've been dealing with this possibility since just before the new year, and before that, it was the general craziness of the holidays and my grandfather-in-law's illness, and before that it was moving again, and before that it was the bedbug infestation and the psychotic landlord, and before that it was the house not selling, and before that it was the wedding ... I don't even know if I remember how to actually relax. When I rest, I'm not really resting, I'm distracting my mind from the stress, which is a kind of stressor in itself.
2. Drugs.
I've been on Lexapro at various doses for the past 10 years. It doesn't really work anymore, but I'm scared to change to anything else because of my bad experiences with Celexa, Effexor, Prozac, and Paxil. (The only major SSRI I haven't tried yet is Zoloft.) All of them gave me side effects I could not live with, such as migraine, anorgasmia (that's the inability to orgasm), spontaneous crying spells and even compulsive yawning. I tried Lamictal for a mood stabilizer, but it gave me severe muscle cramps and a rash, and the only other mood stabilizer I've been offered is lithium, which I refuse to take on the basis that I like my personality and my liver, thanks. Alternating or in conjunction with anxiety, I also have episodes of deep, energy-sapping depression. I took Welbutrin for a while to help with my energy levels, but stopped because of concerns about exacerbating my anxiety. I am still dealing with bouts of crippling anxiety, for which I take Ativan very sparingly, even though it does not seem to be as effective anymore. Buspar does absolutely nothing, and I am afraid to ask for benzo anti-anxiety drugs because every psychiatrist I've been to in the last decade has assumed I'm going to OD or become a junkie, despite the fact that I have no history of drug or alcohol abuse. Oh, and my therapist has diagnosed me with ADD, a condition I've never been treated for. Obviously, I need a new psychiatrist, but I have not had any luck finding one since getting health insurance. This frustrates me. A lot.
3. Monthly horrors.
Though I have not kept as careful a record of my moods as I did when I was going through CBT, I have noticed that the worst of my episodes happen days before or during menstruation. I define "episode" as a period of extended anxiety, depression or, occasionally, anger, that affects my ability to communicate and function as an adult. If it's anxiety, all I want to do is curl up in a dark room and sleep until it goes away, and it's very difficult for me to leave the house for any reason. If it's depression, the same thing happens, except that the reason I can't motivate myself to move is that I don't see any point in doing so. If it's anger (which is the most infrequent one), it comes out of nowhere, and instead of saying or doing anything to hurt others around me (usually my husband), I turn it all on myself. The anger comes with mental images of cutting myself or hurting someone else. I have not given into those images since 2006, when I was hospitalized, but I'm really weary of it. I had actually convinced myself that my husband was going to leave me the other day, and of course that's ridiculous. I'm also very weary of needing to cry and being unable to.
4. Creativity constipation.
I need to make things. I can't find the inspiration or the motivation. This makes me really frustrated. I'm an artist, and I feel like I have all of these images and things that need to come out and play, but I just can't make it happen. My husband bought me a digital tablet and drawing paper for Christmas and I've barely touched them. It makes me feel guilty, which further dampens my creativity, and it's a vicious cycle.
5. I don't have a penis.
It doesn't destroy my sex life, it doesn't make me feel horrible every single minute of every single day, and I think I've mostly dealt with this gender identity/body dysphoria/need-to-be androgynous thing, but... it keeps creeping back. And I don't know whether to revisit it, or just leave it the hell alone, because I have enough to worry about, and that would just upset everyone and everything in my life again.
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