Daily Archives: March 10, 2014

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Sometimes it doesn't matter what anyone says. You don't believe it until find out for yourself.
I know I'm not very well. It's all starting again. I've had a really hard time this week. I feel like I don't know if I'm coming or going.  I'm constantly worrying about what I've done or not done, what I've said or shouldn't have said. When I first came off meds I felt so much better for a while. I lost that "numb" feeling. I felt more alive. I convinced myself that medication was to blame for everything and that maybe it was all a huge mistake and I'd eventually go back to "normal".  I've realised that I've got to do certain things to keep well but that at the moment I just can't. It's not a case of failing or being weak. It's all happening again. I find myself thinking and doing things which I know aren't quite right. I can't help what goes on in my head. I've been doing things that I know won't help me yet I can't seem to stop it. I know I need to eat. It's a basic thing but at the moment I'm just not able to eat properly. I don't know why. I don't know if it's because I've lost weight and I'm scared I'll put it back on again. I don't know if it's because I'm just not hungry. I'm really trying but I just seem to have a mental block. When I did make myself eat a proper meal I felt so bad I went straight into the bathroom and made myself sick. 
I know I need to sleep but I haven't even got into bed for the last three nights. I'm tired, I must be, yet I've got so much nervous energy. I can't settle...now how does that make sense?
I hardly ever drink but the other night I got myself so drunk. I was on a mission to drown everything out. I haven't got a clue what I was doing. All I achieved was a massive hangover and more worry. 
I'm trying not to drive far. Last time I drove home I was driving dangerously. I know I was doing it. I didn't care that if I got caught doing over 100 mph I'd be in trouble. The thought of crashing didn't bother me. I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.
My mood is so all over the place. It's a horrible combination of everything. Mixed up and not making much sense one minute then thinking I've got it all sussed the next. I feel agitated and twitchy. I can't keep up with everything I think I need to do. I'm not depressed and I'm not manic. I know that. I'm not sure what I am. My best friend picked up on it. She said if I didn't go to the doctors she would have to ring herself. I trust what she tells me and I want to talk to her about stuff but I find myself thinking that I must be pissing her off. I find myself thinking about dying. I find myself thinking about how I'd end it all. Those thoughts really scare me. The thing is they come and go so quickly. I feel great one minute because I think I have all the answers to everything then I find myself sobbing uncontrollably because I have no idea what to do. I pretty much had a melt down in the doctors. He said he had no joy in telling me I told you so but that I had to realise that I had a serious mental illness and that by refusing to take my meds I was making myself ill. He said he was worried I could end up being in hospital again and then I'd have no choice. He was so worried that he called the mental health crisis team. 
They sent someone to see me and it did help.  He made me realise that while my reasons were valid I probably stopped my medication in the worst possible way...abruptly and because I was feeling shit. He made me realise that if I don't get my mood balanced enough to be able to do what I need to do to stay well then things can only get worse. He said that medication wasn't going to cure everything but maybe that I should see it as a tool. He said that maybe some of my problems were medication related but not all. Maybe I just wasn't on the right combination or dose. The thought of going back on meds really frightens me. He suggested that I just try the Lithium again and if that stabilised my mood enough maybe I could try again without at a later date and in a more controlled way. I know what he said made sense. 
There was a period when I came out of hospital and I felt really well. I was happy to be on meds then. I think I've been in denial. I guess I have to face up to what everyone's telling me. Maybe I needed to prove to myself that the diagnosis is not wrong. I have bipolar and I have to take responsibility. It's about coping and feeling well, not trying to make it disappear. If I need meds to help me do that then so be it. It's been a hard decision to make but I'm going to restart the Lithium at least. A good friend of mine pointed out to me that when I stopped my medication I was adamant that if it all went tits up I'd start taking it again. Best take my own advice. 

Sometimes it doesn't matter what anyone says. You don't believe it until find out for yourself.
I know I'm not very well. It's all starting again. I've had a really hard time this week. I feel like I don't know if I'm coming or going.  I'm constantly worrying about what I've done or not done, what I've said or shouldn't have said. When I first came off meds I felt so much better for a while. I lost that "numb" feeling. I felt more alive. I convinced myself that medication was to blame for everything and that maybe it was all a huge mistake and I'd eventually go back to "normal".  I've realised that I've got to do certain things to keep well but that at the moment I just can't. It's not a case of failing or being weak. It's all happening again. I find myself thinking and doing things which I know aren't quite right. I can't help what goes on in my head. I've been doing things that I know won't help me yet I can't seem to stop it. I know I need to eat. It's a basic thing but at the moment I'm just not able to eat properly. I don't know why. I don't know if it's because I've lost weight and I'm scared I'll put it back on again. I don't know if it's because I'm just not hungry. I'm really trying but I just seem to have a mental block. When I did make myself eat a proper meal I felt so bad I went straight into the bathroom and made myself sick. 
I know I need to sleep but I haven't even got into bed for the last three nights. I'm tired, I must be, yet I've got so much nervous energy. I can't settle...now how does that make sense?
I hardly ever drink but the other night I got myself so drunk. I was on a mission to drown everything out. I haven't got a clue what I was doing. All I achieved was a massive hangover and more worry. 
I'm trying not to drive far. Last time I drove home I was driving dangerously. I know I was doing it. I didn't care that if I got caught doing over 100 mph I'd be in trouble. The thought of crashing didn't bother me. I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.
My mood is so all over the place. It's a horrible combination of everything. Mixed up and not making much sense one minute then thinking I've got it all sussed the next. I feel agitated and twitchy. I can't keep up with everything I think I need to do. I'm not depressed and I'm not manic. I know that. I'm not sure what I am. My best friend picked up on it. She said if I didn't go to the doctors she would have to ring herself. I trust what she tells me and I want to talk to her about stuff but I find myself thinking that I must be pissing her off. I find myself thinking about dying. I find myself thinking about how I'd end it all. Those thoughts really scare me. The thing is they come and go so quickly. I feel great one minute because I think I have all the answers to everything then I find myself sobbing uncontrollably because I have no idea what to do. I pretty much had a melt down in the doctors. He said he had no joy in telling me I told you so but that I had to realise that I had a serious mental illness and that by refusing to take my meds I was making myself ill. He said he was worried I could end up being in hospital again and then I'd have no choice. He was so worried that he called the mental health crisis team. 
They sent someone to see me and it did help.  He made me realise that while my reasons were valid I probably stopped my medication in the worst possible way...abruptly and because I was feeling shit. He made me realise that if I don't get my mood balanced enough to be able to do what I need to do to stay well then things can only get worse. He said that medication wasn't going to cure everything but maybe that I should see it as a tool. He said that maybe some of my problems were medication related but not all. Maybe I just wasn't on the right combination or dose. The thought of going back on meds really frightens me. He suggested that I just try the Lithium again and if that stabilised my mood enough maybe I could try again without at a later date and in a more controlled way. I know what he said made sense. 
There was a period when I came out of hospital and I felt really well. I was happy to be on meds then. I think I've been in denial. I guess I have to face up to what everyone's telling me. Maybe I needed to prove to myself that the diagnosis is not wrong. I have bipolar and I have to take responsibility. It's about coping and feeling well, not trying to make it disappear. If I need meds to help me do that then so be it. It's been a hard decision to make but I'm going to restart the Lithium at least. A good friend of mine pointed out to me that when I stopped my medication I was adamant that if it all went tits up I'd start taking it again. Best take my own advice. 

Sometimes it doesn't matter what anyone says. You don't believe it until find out for yourself.
I know I'm not very well. It's all starting again. I've had a really hard time this week. I feel like I don't know if I'm coming or going.  I'm constantly worrying about what I've done or not done, what I've said or shouldn't have said. When I first came off meds I felt so much better for a while. I lost that "numb" feeling. I felt more alive. I convinced myself that medication was to blame for everything and that maybe it was all a huge mistake and I'd eventually go back to "normal".  I've realised that I've got to do certain things to keep well but that at the moment I just can't. It's not a case of failing or being weak. It's all happening again. I find myself thinking and doing things which I know aren't quite right. I can't help what goes on in my head. I've been doing things that I know won't help me yet I can't seem to stop it. I know I need to eat. It's a basic thing but at the moment I'm just not able to eat properly. I don't know why. I don't know if it's because I've lost weight and I'm scared I'll put it back on again. I don't know if it's because I'm just not hungry. I'm really trying but I just seem to have a mental block. When I did make myself eat a proper meal I felt so bad I went straight into the bathroom and made myself sick. 
I know I need to sleep but I haven't even got into bed for the last three nights. I'm tired, I must be, yet I've got so much nervous energy. I can't settle...now how does that make sense?
I hardly ever drink but the other night I got myself so drunk. I was on a mission to drown everything out. I haven't got a clue what I was doing. All I achieved was a massive hangover and more worry. 
I'm trying not to drive far. Last time I drove home I was driving dangerously. I know I was doing it. I didn't care that if I got caught doing over 100 mph I'd be in trouble. The thought of crashing didn't bother me. I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.
My mood is so all over the place. It's a horrible combination of everything. Mixed up and not making much sense one minute then thinking I've got it all sussed the next. I feel agitated and twitchy. I can't keep up with everything I think I need to do. I'm not depressed and I'm not manic. I know that. I'm not sure what I am. My best friend picked up on it. She said if I didn't go to the doctors she would have to ring herself. I trust what she tells me and I want to talk to her about stuff but I find myself thinking that I must be pissing her off. I find myself thinking about dying. I find myself thinking about how I'd end it all. Those thoughts really scare me. The thing is they come and go so quickly. I feel great one minute because I think I have all the answers to everything then I find myself sobbing uncontrollably because I have no idea what to do. I pretty much had a melt down in the doctors. He said he had no joy in telling me I told you so but that I had to realise that I had a serious mental illness and that by refusing to take my meds I was making myself ill. He said he was worried I could end up being in hospital again and then I'd have no choice. He was so worried that he called the mental health crisis team. 
They sent someone to see me and it did help.  He made me realise that while my reasons were valid I probably stopped my medication in the worst possible way...abruptly and because I was feeling shit. He made me realise that if I don't get my mood balanced enough to be able to do what I need to do to stay well then things can only get worse. He said that medication wasn't going to cure everything but maybe that I should see it as a tool. He said that maybe some of my problems were medication related but not all. Maybe I just wasn't on the right combination or dose. The thought of going back on meds really frightens me. He suggested that I just try the Lithium again and if that stabilised my mood enough maybe I could try again without at a later date and in a more controlled way. I know what he said made sense. 
There was a period when I came out of hospital and I felt really well. I was happy to be on meds then. I think I've been in denial. I guess I have to face up to what everyone's telling me. Maybe I needed to prove to myself that the diagnosis is not wrong. I have bipolar and I have to take responsibility. It's about coping and feeling well, not trying to make it disappear. If I need meds to help me do that then so be it. It's been a hard decision to make but I'm going to restart the Lithium at least. A good friend of mine pointed out to me that when I stopped my medication I was adamant that if it all went tits up I'd start taking it again. Best take my own advice. 

Fuck. I made a rather bold move this morning after coffee pot was emptied. I figured it would be safest then. I went to the bedroom, where the spouse had already disappeared, to talk about all the shit that's going down here, and how I want to try to fix it, how I would like for there to be some happiness around here. I get more of what I got yesterday morning: accusation after accusation. I even asked for the tax crap, to take it back and go over it again and see what I can do. All the spouse could say about that was that he basically couldn't believe that I was such a forgetful fuck-up, and I got the sense that he feels like I ripped him off on his taxes before or something. Money, money, money... After the money "discussion" was over, I tried talking about other things, but hit a brick wall. He said he really didn't want to have the conversation right now. So I turned around and left the tax crap on the bed. Passive-aggresive shit returned to him. Dumb, I know, but I wanted to see how long he would let it sit there in the bedroom.

It seems like he thinks I don't care about him, how he looks, buying new furniture, and moving. He equated the response of my initial response of "whatever" to his remark about growing facial hair as some kind of insult on the way that he looks. Truth is, he rarely "makes an effort" I meant "whatever" as a personal choice. I gave more than that opinion after that, yet he still clung to the "whatever" as if I don't care. I make an effort pretty much every day not to look like a complete slob, as much as I can to make myself feel less self-conscious, for hygiene's sake, and to try and keep remembering how to do it. Yeah, I forget my little routine sometimes. Fuckin' Swiss cheese memory.

Yet another day crapped on, and he said he wanted to go to the grocery store at some point. Can't ever get a specific time out of him, but he yells at me for it. I'm guessing he might want to go late afternoon, if at all. Well, that was a fine way to build up more anxiety for me, trying to have an adult conversation with him. My chest feels like someone is squeezing the fuck out of my rib cage, and I have to remember to breathe. I have to remember to try to stay calm, and get rid of any distressed look that I can feel on my face. Just grit my teeth and try to get through it.

Oh... the spouse has just walked in with the tax forms, etc, and asked me if I needed them. I said "Not right now". So they're sitting on the table where he put them, where they will sit for a while. More passive-aggressive presents returned to him. Stupid, I know, but I want him to know how it feels. I doubt if he'll get it. He seems to have plenty of money saved up as it is without any crummy return. If I wait too long, I wonder if he'll end up using some kind of threats. I'm guessing that all he can think about is money and himself because of being laid off for this long, spending money fixing his car and tons of other stuff for himself, and expecting thousands in a tax return.

I feel ill. My face is burning up. Need to get off the couch and move. Distract. Distract....Shower! Hate it, but will definitely distract.

FUCK.

My name is Wendy Enberg. I am 41 years old, married with two children and live in Alberta, Canada. I have Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Anxiety, and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and while life can be challenging at times, it’s still a life worth living.

What’s it like to live with many mental health issues? I won’t sugar-coat it – it’s difficult but the good times help sustain me through the bad times.

I always knew there was something different about me and depression began to rear it’s ugly head during my early adolescence. I struggled with the normal anxieties of poor self-image and low self-esteem, but the feelings of despair and emptiness were prevalent, even at my tender age. As a way to cope with the depression, I developed unhealthy strategies, such as drinking and using drugs. Instead of learning to be comfortable in my own skin, I took on the personas of the people I was with in order to gain acceptance and approval. I cried a lot during this time, but never sought or was offered assistance during this time. I was fighting the fight with no weapons or a game plan.

My late teens and adolescence were also when the first signs of BPD were appearing. I struggled with my identity, stable relationships, reckless spending, and self-harming behaviors such as drinking excessively and over medicating. Through it all, I always felt alone and unsure of myself – all I knew for certain was I didn’t like myself and wanted to do anything to get out of my skin.

My early twenties were marked by wild spending sprees, drunken antics and being with the wrong partners. I so desperately wanted to be loved that I often picked men that were unable or unwilling to love me in a healthy way. I fooled myself into believing that I was running my life when in fact my illnesses were running me.

I became a mom at age 23 to a beautiful son. I had planned to raise him as a single mom, as I knew that his dad was not a healthy partner for me. However, after his birth, incredible feelings of guilt washed over me and I resumed a relationship with his dad. This later let to the birth of my daughter a mere 16 months later. 1997 found me as a young and scared mother, trapped in an unhealthy and emotionally abusive relationship, myself getting unhealthier every day.

In 2006, I suffered my first psychotic break which landed me in the hospital for a week. Even then, the doctors chalked it up to exhaustion and sent me back into the pits of hell that I had been so desperately trying to escape. I did begin taking antidepressants but no therapy or other interventions were put in place to help me cope with my emerging illnesses. I finally began seeing a therapist on my own that helped me take the steps I needed to take in order to end the abusive relationship I was in.

2008 found me in a psychiatric unit finally, after experiencing some severe suicidal ideation. It was there that I was finally diagnosed with MDD and therapy was ordered. I spent 6 months as an outpatient attending intensive daily therapy and group sessions. This stabilized me enough for me to continue working full time.

In 2008, I also met the man who saw the beauty and goodness that I couldn’t see and he began to nurture that part of my soul. He was and is truly my soul mate.

I experienced a set back in 2010 which amounted to a serious suicide attempt that landed me back in hospital. This time I stayed a month to get myself back on track. During this time, my son had relocated to the East Coast with his dad and my daughter was living with friends in another town. It took a year this time for me to stabilize but I slowly regained control of my life and my daughter returned home to live with us.

Since 2010, I haven’t had to be hospitalized and have spent countless hours in therapy programs, individual counseling and educating myself about my illness.

Living with mental illness has meant that my life is never easy. Living with hope means that I’m never going to give up.

Through my Facebook page and my blogging, I’ve reached out to others who may be struggling with their own journeys. I always felt so alone during my troubled times and I vowed to help others not feel so alone.  I had to forge my own trails when looking for help and now, I help others down the path. I believe that reaching out and helping others is helping me to heal. I am passionate about working as a mental health advocate and peer supporter. Together, the voices of a few can change the lives of many, and open the minds of people. I hope to raise an awareness and acceptance of mental illness and do what I can to bring out the compassion in others towards those they see struggling.

Wendy Enberg

My name is Wendy Enberg. I am 41 years old, married with two children and live in Alberta, Canada. I have Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Anxiety, and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and while life can be challenging at times, it’s still a life worth living.

What’s it like to live with many mental health issues? I won’t sugar-coat it – it’s difficult but the good times help sustain me through the bad times.

I always knew there was something different about me and depression began to rear it’s ugly head during my early adolescence. I struggled with the normal anxieties of poor self-image and low self-esteem, but the feelings of despair and emptiness were prevalent, even at my tender age. As a way to cope with the depression, I developed unhealthy strategies, such as drinking and using drugs. Instead of learning to be comfortable in my own skin, I took on the personas of the people I was with in order to gain acceptance and approval. I cried a lot during this time, but never sought or was offered assistance during this time. I was fighting the fight with no weapons or a game plan.

My late teens and adolescence were also when the first signs of BPD were appearing. I struggled with my identity, stable relationships, reckless spending, and self-harming behaviors such as drinking excessively and over medicating. Through it all, I always felt alone and unsure of myself – all I knew for certain was I didn’t like myself and wanted to do anything to get out of my skin.

My early twenties were marked by wild spending sprees, drunken antics and being with the wrong partners. I so desperately wanted to be loved that I often picked men that were unable or unwilling to love me in a healthy way. I fooled myself into believing that I was running my life when in fact my illnesses were running me.

I became a mom at age 23 to a beautiful son. I had planned to raise him as a single mom, as I knew that his dad was not a healthy partner for me. However, after his birth, incredible feelings of guilt washed over me and I resumed a relationship with his dad. This later let to the birth of my daughter a mere 16 months later. 1997 found me as a young and scared mother, trapped in an unhealthy and emotionally abusive relationship, myself getting unhealthier every day.

In 2006, I suffered my first psychotic break which landed me in the hospital for a week. Even then, the doctors chalked it up to exhaustion and sent me back into the pits of hell that I had been so desperately trying to escape. I did begin taking antidepressants but no therapy or other interventions were put in place to help me cope with my emerging illnesses. I finally began seeing a therapist on my own that helped me take the steps I needed to take in order to end the abusive relationship I was in.

2008 found me in a psychiatric unit finally, after experiencing some severe suicidal ideation. It was there that I was finally diagnosed with MDD and therapy was ordered. I spent 6 months as an outpatient attending intensive daily therapy and group sessions. This stabilized me enough for me to continue working full time.

In 2008, I also met the man who saw the beauty and goodness that I couldn’t see and he began to nurture that part of my soul. He was and is truly my soul mate.

I experienced a set back in 2010 which amounted to a serious suicide attempt that landed me back in hospital. This time I stayed a month to get myself back on track. During this time, my son had relocated to the East Coast with his dad and my daughter was living with friends in another town. It took a year this time for me to stabilize but I slowly regained control of my life and my daughter returned home to live with us.

Since 2010, I haven’t had to be hospitalized and have spent countless hours in therapy programs, individual counseling and educating myself about my illness.

Living with mental illness has meant that my life is never easy. Living with hope means that I’m never going to give up.

Through my Facebook page and my blogging, I’ve reached out to others who may be struggling with their own journeys. I always felt so alone during my troubled times and I vowed to help others not feel so alone.  I had to forge my own trails when looking for help and now, I help others down the path. I believe that reaching out and helping others is helping me to heal. I am passionate about working as a mental health advocate and peer supporter. Together, the voices of a few can change the lives of many, and open the minds of people. I hope to raise an awareness and acceptance of mental illness and do what I can to bring out the compassion in others towards those they see struggling.

Wendy Enberg