The Bloody Doors Off

I’ve been thinking about labels today. I’ve always been a bit of a nerd, and I’m okay with that. I like comics, sci-fi/fantasy.

Being diagnosed with depression and type 2 diabetes, pretty much in the same month, was a one-two punch. It put me on short-term disability during the summer of 2007. I had to change every eating habit I had overnight. I introduced blood glucose monitoring and pills. And more pills for the depression. Zoloft was hell. Anyone around me then will remember the shit I went through. Uncontrollable crying, ranting, paranoia, locking myself away for days at a time. Even that winter, I was struggling.

But I got through it.

I accepted that I suffered from depression, got on better medication, started seeing a proper psychiatrist. Went back to work. Even when I was laid off the following May, it didn’t destroy me. I took the summer off, traveled to Greece for 2 weeks, got scammed for money twice (just admitting this now; a story for another time), and landed a new job within a week of looking.

This year has been a series of tests. If I graded my performance, it’d be a D. (I deducted a full point after October. Don’t argue with me.)

I spoke with my psychiatrist today. Gave him more of my family history, now that I have a fuller understanding. And asked just how you defined ‘mania’. I turned white, and talked more.

He’s referring me to a specialist at CAMH for a further diagnosis.

So, it’s possible I’ll have a new label by the beginning of 2014: bi-polar.

I don’t know which way is up right now.

Today’s been a blast.

Where to begin? Woke up with the alarm, stumbled into the bathroom for ablutions, took my anti-depressant and climbed back under the duvet for another 30 minutes. The cats ensured I got up with the reset.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t downhill from there. It sometimes is, when I can’t get out of bed the first time. There was sun streaming in the west-facing window, and the coffee actually did as advertised. There weren’t any City officials at my door, so that was a relief. I still don’t know what’s up with this. I’d really appreciate not having to deal with conflicting information, especially when I have no say in the outcome.

Also out of my hands: my appointment with Employment Ontario got cancelled. This is the second time. The first time I scheduled, I ended up in hospital. And even then, they called to cancel the appointment (it was right after I was released). And I didn’t reschedule then because I couldn’t handle even the idea of working. But with the EI medical extension running out this week, and knowing I have to reapply for OW, it’s now or… now. I’ve got no choice. Ready or not.

I don’t know if I’m ready. Shit.

Last night just proved how bad I can cycle emotionally when the shit hits the fan. It’s been a spiral this year. When confronted with crap in the past, I’ve had something I could focus on. If it was personal, I had work to glom onto. In the past 16 months I’ve lots my job, a relationship, an apartment, a roommate, my sanity. I’m broke, financially, mentally and emotionally. Every time I think, there’s nowhere to go but up, I’m proven wrong.

When I was in high school, I once fell off the stage into the orchestra pit. I was black and blue down the entire right side of my body. I got lucky I didn’t break any bones (but it fucked up my back in the years to come). Months afterward, I found a daily calendar page on the director’s floor. It read:

‘Paul’s Law: you can’t fall off the floor.’

I’d proven it wrong then. I proved it wrong again last October.

And I’m worried I’m still falling.

Okay, so despite this, when you’d think I’d get depressed, things went 180 degrees. I got a little manic. Had to get out of the house. So I bundled up and went to the Gerrard Square mall to buy, of all things, antibacterial soap for the bathroom. I had to have it today. I wasn’t going to be satisfied until the refill was purchased. I got totally OCD over this. And I hate that.

So let’s add that to the laundry list for my psychiatrist appointment tomorrow.

I’m wondering if I suffer from just depression, or more.

Last night I learned one aunt is bi-polar. Another has depression, anxiety, social anxiety, and paranoia.

This stuff is hereditary.

I think back to last winter/spring when I was winding down off of the past anti-depressants, and how I’d spiral with paranoid thoughts. I thought it was part of the weaning process. Now I’m not so sure.

October was such a spiral, and I was definitely on high anxiety. Late at night, I was so amped up it could be considered paranoid episodes. The smartest thing I did then was self-admit. But I worried then (and sometimes still do) that I came out too early.

I’ve been through so many emotions tonight it’s insane. (Har dee harrr.) I’ve gone from extremely tired can’t keep my eyes open to not wanting to go to sleep.

Psychiatrist appointment is Tuesday. I need to bring this up.

How many times does the rug have to be pulled out from under me before I get the message?

So, the CO2 detector’s been going off on the main floor since just after midnight today. A few minutes ago, 5 guys from the fire department came knocking to check out my apartment.

Their comment? My apartment may be illegal. The gas heater in the living room vents outside the window, and right outside the entrance. If a weather seal fails, I could end up getting carbon monoxide.

And given these are firefighters checking out a gas leak, you know it’s going to get reported to the City. Which will probably come in and do another inspection. Which means I may be looking for another place to live in the near future. And jeebus, my new roommate hasn’t even officially moved in yet and he might be screwed as well.

What the hell do I do?

I am beyond exhausted. Leftover since yesterday. Coffee hasn’t helped, fresh air didn’t do me any good. I went out to get a prescription, and a larger, durable mat for the entrance. I’ve bought vitamin b12. This just doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t take a nap because of (a) the timing and (b) I want to sleep through the night tonight.

My eyes hurt.

I’m pretty damned sure I’ll crash hard tonight. I hope I’m right.

I’m 30 minutes into The Conjuring and I had to pause. I love horror films, mostly because – while they can scare me – I know they’re not real. The mark of an excellent horror (for me) is when they get my imagination working for them. And they’ve done that already. It’s a 2 hour movie. Holy hell. This better not let me down.

Right.

I missed posting yesterday. First day since I’ve been out of the hospital. Small regret; this is a personal project of mine, to write every day. But nothing I’m going to get down about. I was out late at Subspace, and had a friend crash on the couch last night. And today was the Koster Christmas party, so I knew I wouldn’t be writing beforehand.

First off: 14 hours of snow and counting. Welcome to winter, ya bastitch. It was barely dandruff when we got up; by the time we were out the door (factoring in extra time because you know people can’t drive when the flakes fall) I still ran late. But thankfully the roads were clear from Scarborough to Oshawa. Despite the downfall here, it hadn’t gone east yet. (It did by the time we left.)

I felt like I was dragging my ass all day. Been having back pain since last night, and around 7am I’d woken up and took a big-ass muscle relaxant. It kept on all day. I was downing coffee like I was 30 and spending the majority of my evenings at Tequila Bookworm (so many coffee pots died for our pleasure back then). Still, it was an enjoyable affair with aunts, uncles, cousins and second generation cousins. Food was plentiful and the conversations engaging.

The big surprise, for me, came at dessert. Ginny, Pat, Boni (aunt, uncle, aunt) and Karen (cousin) were talking about Peggy (an absent aunt). She has her own struggles with depression, anxiety, paranoia, social anxiety. We’ve all known for years, and have tried to help. They were talking about the latest developments and expressing frustration over what to do/how to act.

And I spoke up. I told them about my own depression. How I self-admitted to hospital in October. That I had a plan, but not necessarily a timetable. And how, when you’re that ‘low’, you never really think you can talk to people.

I’m still a little shaky over coming out like that. I could tell Karen was a bit shaken up. She had a great comment: if someone tells you they’re ill, if they had cancer, you’d have an idea of how to help. Whether it was to help them clean their place, run errands, cook for them, take them to chemo. But how do you help someone who fights against mental illness?

This was a huge step for me tonight. I’ve talked about it with my brothers, and my mother, father and step-father knew I’d been in hospital but that was it… they didn’t want to know more. The rest of the extended family were unaware. I … stepped out into the light, I guess. And I said something that really hit home: you really can’t take one person’s experiences and apply them to another. I told them what works for me might not work for her. But I did recommend some ideas on how to find out how they might help.

My doctor says I need to be proactive. And tonight I think I was.

Imagine that.

Every once in a while, you need to spend the day in your pajamas.

Even when the client sends you work.

Even when you need to step out and check the mail (nothing but flyers).

Or heating dinner.

Not an affect of depression. (Though I’ve been there in the past.) Not out of laziness. (I had work for a brochure today.)

I just. Needed the comfort.

That’s what I’m craving right now. Comfort. A port in the storm. A body to snuggle against. Yes, I miss the physical, but damn I’m needing the emotional spectrum. The holidays do that to me. Amplify it.

You know what I find comfort in, during the holidays? Schmaltzy holiday movies. It’s a Wonderful Life, White Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street. A Charlie Brown Christmas. I have to see the Snoopy dance, it’s not the holidays unless that happens. God, I’m such a fucking softie. I also miss office Christmas parties. The smaller ones, not the giant all-staff parties. I like the departmental gatherings. Always a good time.

Blah.

I seriously need to find some joy.

There’s one person left in the apartment directly above me. He moves out this weekend.

Dear god, if I could move time.

Since 4pm, he’s been singing. It’s loud enough to be annoying, but not enough to be bitchy about. Well, I suppose this is me bitching. Over 6 hours. WTF? Back in July, one of the former crashers (who was a decent guy, and now I think probably the only decent guy who resided there) hinted that he had an addiction. You don’t wanna believe shit like that. But given the craziness over the past several months, it’s easier to accept.

But you know, it seemed like he’d been turning things around. He got a job that he enjoyed, kept him quiet. But now, in these final days until he moves out, it’s like he’s backsliding. And I feel for him. To a point. That, and my low tolerance for putting up with it, makes me feel like an asshole. There are times I wonder if I’m the problem. Especially since October. Have I done enough?

There’s a theme that’s been running through my psych sessions: being proactive versus being reactive. I react to shit, rather than taking action to make things happen/fix the problem. When things got really bad upstairs, I’d email the landlords so they knew what was happening. Which should be the right thing. But that also meant I was avoiding direct contact and dealing with the situation myself. And when things were at their worst, when I finally took the reins and made a call, some people thought I was overreacting. So then I second-guess myself. I either go too far, or not far enough. I can’t seem to find the middle ground.

Anyone have a compass? ‘Cuz I’m not even sure which way is north right now.

Interesting talk with my psychiatrist today. Discussed the gaping hole (okay I didn’t call it that) that I feel during the holidays. I do feel like there’s something missing. He reminded me that, with my last job, I complained that I couldn’t get the week of Christmas and New Year’s off because the other multimedia guy always booked it for his family. And I wanted that. But now I realize it isn’t the time I wanted off — because I had it last year after the layoff and I have it again this year — it’s that I want to enjoy it with family. And to further define that, I want to create traditions with family, one that involves not just the family I have now, but a family I want to have.

And that’s the bitch of it. I’m single, not dating, no kids. This isn’t where I thought I was going to be.

That’s all I’m gonna say right now. Thinking about this right now is painful.