I did it. All this
talk about, “How are you doing?” “How
are things going?” I cannot even say how
many people have asked me those questions from my therapist (from whom I would
expect that question) to friends and family.
People call that I don’t usually talk to, to ask how I am doing. It is nice.
It is really nice. Don’t get me
wrong. I love getting emails from people
I don’t usually hear from. It is
exciting. Something a little out of the
norm. But, it is also pressure. Immense pressure. Dammit.
I have to be better. I have to be
cured since I have went through over 10 sessions of ECT at U of M. Family members have taken time off of work to
take me to the hospital. One family
member drove from Rochester, MN to stay for a week and help out!! My psychiatrist and therapist took time out
of their busy schedules to be with me.
One of my friends has taken time off of work at least 3 times! The
out-pouring of kindness is beyond measure.
And despite all of that I cut yesterday.
I hate typing the words. I hate
the way they look on the computer screen.
I was just going to hang onto this little bit of information and not
tell anyone. Not tell my therapist, not
tell my husband, no one. But, I hate the
way the information sits in my stomach and continuously churns and churns and eventually makes me sick.
There it is. I cut. I am not
perfect. After two months of ECT I got
overwhelmed and cut, with a razor blade I had still hanging
around. I made 5 mean, red looking straight lines on my abdomen. I could have picked up the phone
and called Dina. I could have gone out
in the garage and smoked some weed. I
could have taken an Ativan. I could have
picked up the phone and called my friend Olivia. I did none of that. Why? I really thought nothing but cutting was going to help yesterday.
I couldn't breathe and I wanted something to help me to breathe. I wanted to breathe so badly. I was in this moment where I didn't think or couldn't think. I went in the bathroom, got out the razor blade and before I knew it there were 5 cut marks on my abdomen. It is easy to
think now. I am not in the heat of the
moment. The heat of the moment was
yesterday.
I want to be better. The good part is that I do feel somewhat better. The past two days I made dinner from scratch and it was not this massive big deal. I even had the energy to help clean up afterwards. I had the energy to go to the grocery store. Once I got there I got so overwhelmed a friend had to come and help me finish but the point here is that I wanted to even attempt that monumental task!!
I want the depression to be gone. I don't want cutting to even come across my mind. I don't want little things to become big things. A perfect example is this. Today is day three of winter break for my boys. They want to spend all of their time on the iPads, and playing Wii. I am trying to save some of their brains while still saving some of my sanity. My boys watched movies or played on the iPad all morning long. We had a field trip for Boy Scouts at 10:30 a.m. I gave them plenty of warning before it was time to leave and then gave the, "Times up!" for all three of them. Getting out of the house was a massive undertaking which resulted in me yelling louder than I thought I was capable. No one wanted to listen. Everyone wanted a cookie or juice or pretzels right then and there. The brand new shoes that were purchased just yesterday were now too tight and only one of the old ones could be found. My husband texted me in the middle of all of this and he wanted to know why I did not get back to him right away. I told him, "I am going to kill your three sons!!" Raising three boys is hard. Raising three boys while struggling with a mental illness. Damn hard.
The ECT has made things better. I am cooking. I am keeping up with the laundry. And I really do have more patience to spare with my boys. Its the fact that things are not really great that bothers me. I feel like by not getting better I have let too many people down. Like I should now be healed after two months of ECT. I guess I need to report that I am not healed. There are still bumps in the road that happen. I still have a long way to go. I struggle daily with thoughts about hurting myself. I work through them and I am committed to getting better. The cutting might happen again. I can't promise that I will never cut again. I can promise to work though my list of things I should be doing first. The rest...I don't know.
