Today I am writing from my brain.
No more treatment entries.
They were more for my benefit than anyone else’s, anyways.
Today I want to be real, to discuss a side of depression I have never experienced before.
I knew it was coming.
I tried to tell Pensack that I was becoming depressed and probably needed something to get a head start on it.
I tried to talk about my overwhelming urge to isolate and avoid (literally) everyone and everything.
All I got was, “Let’s talk about your current ED behaviors” and “Let’s talk about why you did what you did all summer long if that isn’t what you really wanted”.
All it made me feel was invalidated and unheard.
Thanks again, EDCare, for all of your fucking wonderful words of wisdom and unsurpassable help.
So I came home and isolated.
Because it made me feel better.
I felt like I could function as a human being again.
After all, I couldn’t be depressed. Where are all the tears? The unending, overwhelming sense of sadness and despair? …. the typical depression that is depicted on TV commercials and in doctors’ offices everywhere.
I am simply apathetic. I am calm, cool, collected on the outside (for the most part… like 97% of the time). I am up and dressed, with my hair done and makeup on, and out the door like a normal parent by 755am most days. Hell, I’m even eating an amount of calories each day that would make my dietitian smile.
So why do I have this oppressing urge to hide in my house all day every day? Why does the thought of going to church give me anxiety, borderline panic, at bedtime the night before? Why did I feel the need to delete all of my communication/social media apps and/or all my friends/followers off of the ones I kept? Why is it so hard for me to answer text messages and concerned friends who ask, “Are you doing okayy??”
Of course I’m doing okay. I’m totally fine. Stop talking to me.
Just leave me alone please.
My thoughts, on the other hand, are not fine. They are repetitive, intrusive, self-loathing, and often full of self-harm, occasionally of suicide.
They impede my ability to function as I think I ought; as I have in the past; as other mothers, wives, friends, sisters, people do.
They cause behaviors that make me late, that make me irritable, that cause great distress that I cannot hide because my face expresses everything. ALL THE TIME.
The other day I was ordering myself some lunch and the lady asked me if I wanted any sauce to go with my chicken and my immediate thought was, “Yes, please, and a knife to slit my throat with as well, thank you.” Granted, my ED brain was pretty triggered at that moment, but that was a little bit steep, even for him.
A lot of little moments like that have added up, increasing my concern, over the last four weeks… Four weeks that I could have been on something, that we could have been working on lowering my depression through behavioral therapy, medications, and actual work, anything to get on top of it, if Pensack would have just listened to me.
And now I am considering talking with my therapist here about a short stay in the psych ward again. I know it is mainly for those who are suicidal and at risk to harm themselves, but I really don’t know what else to do. I made an appointment for a med council here at home, but it isn’t for another ten days and therapy once a week isn’t cutting it (insert suicidal ideation here cuz fuck you brain).
I could call EDCare, but I don’t have any future appointments with them and I am quite certain I want to keep it that way. I could email Pensack, but fuck him. I am so tired of listening to his lectures, his know-everything mannerisms, his ideas on my life. He is an amazing doctor and knows his shit, but it’s like he’s become a grumpy old grandpa who just wants to tell me how to run my life and expects that I will do it AND THEN gets pissed off when I don’t. I want to like him. I want to trust him, but this summer and our last appointment has changed my opinion (and level of trust) of his ability to meet my needs and care for me at the same time. So I don’t know. I guess I will see how the appointment here goes before I make any further decisions.
I mean, let’s be honest for a minute or two, (and by we I mean me) I have been to treatment at EDCare twice, have been on an outpatient basis for 2.5 years, and I have never NEVER listened to what my outpatient team said besides seeking and receiving validation for how sick I was and information to use to make myself sicker. I went there because going there meant I have an eating disorder; my anorexia nervosa and ARFID are valid diseases/diagnoses BECAUSE I needed treatment for them at a specialized clinic 250 miles away on a monthly, sometimes biweekly, basis. It has never been truly beneficial to me because I never let it.
So I could call, but would it do any good? Would I listen? Apply the information in a healthful way? Seeing how apathetic I am and how loud my ED gets just knowing I am thinking about making an appointment (let alone actually going) I am not sure that it would.
And that is where I am at. Hiding in my house, writhing in agony inwardly, smiling outwardly, trying to maintain functionality, let go of grudges, find ways to help myself, and just not giving a shit about anything anymore.
Bipolar depression, anyone?
No? Are you sure?
Cuz I’ve got plenty to go around.