End of My Rope

End of My Rope

Right now that’s where I am.  The end.  Of my rope.  I’ve been down for so long that I have forgotten what it’s like to be up.  For no reason other than my fucking bipolar.  Like that’s not enough of a reason.

On top of that I have had some situational things involving car problems, money problems, hurtful things from two of my children, my daughter/best friend losing her job and having trouble getting pregnant.  Most of these types of things I have no control over, and I understand that.  But the basic, underlying depression just permeates everything inside me and won’t go away.  I’m even thinking of cutting and having suicidal thoughts.

My medications are fucked, and that’s a fact.  I have a doctor appointment on Monday, and we are going to have it out.  She is going to have to listen to the things I want or I will find a new doctor.  Some of her decisions don’t even make sense to me.  Since I’m bipolar she refuses to put me on an anti-depressant since she thinks it will make me manic.  It won’t.  And even if it did, I could go off the med, and it isn’t going to be worse than I am now.  I am going to insist on an anti-depressant and will not continue with her without one.

On top of that, last month she started me on Rexulti, which is a booster for anti-depressants.  The problem, of course, is that I’m not on an anti-depressant to boost so that makes no sense at all.  This is going to be questioned thoroughly.

There are a few other medication changes I want to make, and she may actually agree to them, but it’s going to be a battle of an appointment, and I have to gear myself up for it since I feel so horrible anyway.  I can’t let her beat me down again.  As much as a pain in the ass as it is, this time I am ready to find a new doctor if she won’t listen to me.  I’m that frustrated.  The time that I have invested is just taking me too long, and I have nowhere left to turn.

I have no more strength to write and nothing much left to say.  I’m done.  I’m just trying to survive until Monday when I have my appointment.  It’s hard thinking that I probably won’t even leave my bed until then.  Thanks for reading.  Hope this one wasn’t too much of a downer.

The Sad Clown

The Sad Clown

My daughter has been slowly getting me to come around to doing my makeup sometimes.  I bought all new product (my old stuff was years old).  I was looking forward to doing something she was excited about that we could share.

The thing is that I feel kind of silly putting on a full face of makeup when I’m not going anywhere and nobody is going to see me.  I know it supposed to be good for my self-esteem, and I can see that I look way better.  I need a lot of practice, though, to really master the techniques and trends so I look more current.  Not an easy thing when you are 51 years old.

And the other thing is that I feel sometimes like it’s a mask.  Like a sad clown.  I still feel depressed.  I still feel down.  I want to feel like I look.  Maybe if I keep trying I will get there.  I’ve been feeling really down a lot lately, and nothing seems to bring me up for very long.  I need another med change.

So until then I’m going to keep trying with the makeup just to see if it makes me feel any better.  At least I get to share it with my daughter who is gorgeous with and without makeup.  I want to be as excited about it as she is.  Maybe I will get there.  I hope so.