07 November 2009

Another Lonely Evening Comes to Pass

I’m sure where to start with this entry. The house is quiet; I don’t even want to listen to music (pause) no, I changed my mind. Just opened my iTunes and am now listening to Frank Sinatra’s September of My Years. Hmmm, maybe the theme is a little too appropriate.

How do you explain to someone that you don’t want to get better? Yes, I’m about as mental as one can be. But, it is my comfort zone; it is what I know best. I know how to operate under this cover of darkness. Oh, sure, you must be thinking, why would someone choose to struggle with being suicidal so many nights a week? I do not know what normal is. I do not remember what being happy feels like. Was I ever happy—ever? Even when I was somewhat balanced while on my meds before I quit taking them, all I remember at best was being numb. At least when I am manic, I feel energetic; I feel as if I can do anything. Now, all I experience is the crushing defeat of morbid depression. Even after three weeks, the meds haven’t kicked in at all. My doctor keeps upping a dosage of one and waits a while, then he’ll add to the cocktail (he is rather conservative about how many types of changes he makes at one time). Either way, I don’t feel any different.

I am supposed to try to add yet another med tonight as a temporary measure to break my cycle of persistent insomnia. He wants me to take 10mg of Zyprexa an hour before I take the rest of my bedtime meds, and if I am not asleep in an hour, to take another 10mg. Then I have to do another phone call check-in with him again tomorrow (the addition of Zyprexa was the topic of our phone check-in today). He already knows how I feel about Zyprexa; it became a deal-breaker for me when I discovered what a weight gainer this drug was. Not trying to be recalcitrant, I argued with him since he already knew how I felt about this drug, but he said he only wanted me to try it for one week to see if it would break my insomnia and give sleep a chance. I agreed to take it temporarily. We’ll see what happens tonight. (Now Frank is singing “It Was a Very Good Year.” I wish I could say the same).

(later) I decided that I had to leave the house. The walls were closing in on me. I already know where that will take me. The weather is perfect outside. I decided to grab my atlas and don my new toys and go for a walk. I decided to go up to the corner Starbucks (yeah, I remembered to opt for decaffeinated). That meant I had to deal with people. I had no idea how many there would be. However, the evening was too nice not to go out. I was too exhausted to go for a power walk; there is no apparent rage seething within me at the moment—a welcome change. Just a short walk up to the corner to get some fresh air was perfect.

Starbucks just had two customers that were engrossed with each other, tucked away in the corner. I doubt they even noticed me. I got to the counter and looked up to the menu. There were so many choices. The cashier was waiting for me to place my order. I couldn’t make up my mind. I froze as she just stared at me and asked, “What I get for you?” a second time. Finally, I made my choice and just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. Once I hit the door and the cool night breezes swept my face, I felt I could finally breathe. It was good to know I still had my bearings. I promptly left the parking lot and headed home.©2009


  1. Have you ever been put on Seroquel? I miss my Seroquel. It is not to be used as a sleeping pill, it is an anti psychotic - but if I took it one hour BEFORE I wanted to be asleep, it would always make me drozy enough to sleep. You can fight the drozy, but it is a hard fight.

    The drawback is the cost if you don't have prescription - I had the state and VA pay for my meds. Each pill is $30 - at $900 a month it is an example choice - but a great sleep aid for me.

  2. Patrick, I was on Seroquel for a long time and a ballooned up 40 lbs. I quit it immediately so I decided to try this of once, albeit for one week. sSo let’s see what happens. I have a stash of them when I weaned off everything and they havne't come close to their expiration
    yet.... I'll be weighing muself throughout this week.

  3. I so totally get not wanting to get better, largely for the reasons you've outlined. This is ME. I have NEVER been sane - not really. The closest I got to it, as a child, was believing that there was nothing abnormal about my f*ckuppery. A mate sent me a text message yesterday, saying "you WILL get better!" and I had to fight with myself not to reply, "but I don't fucking want to."

    Yet here we are, engaging in therapy and medication treatment. I know in part that was due to the conditions of your release from the section, but you know what I mean. I suppose it harks back to my stance that whilst I am pro-choice re: catching the bus, I do think I oughtto exhaust every other possible avenue before doing so myself. I don't *really* want to die (even though I think about it all the time and do think it would be a sensible move in many ways) - not at the minute anyway - embut neither do I want to live, and I mean that in the figurative sense. In other words, mere existence is what I'll tolerate for now (I can't get beyond 'tolerating' anything) - which I suppose is a damn good thing, because 'existence' is all I have.

    Sorry for such self-indulgence. Believe me, I can empathise entirely with both your loneliness and your insomnia - do you find the latter exacerbated by the former? I cannot offer any practical assistance, of course, but please know that you are very much in my thoughts and I do hope you can find some medication that will at least fix the sleep issue. Please take care of yourself x

  4. SI, it is so very awesome that you really “get it.” I think that is why we enjoy our dialogue so much. No one else, I mean no one get’s this whole fucking scene.

    You say you do not want to *really* die. In my case, there are nights when that is all I want to do—obviously from my attempted actions one month ago. I do not think I am even at the state of tolerating anything right now. For the single baby step I may take forward (the medications have yet to take effect, but I am trying to learn these tools in order to possibly get to the point of tolerance), I take three or four giant steps backwards. That is why I fall into my “I don’t care/I don’t want to get better” state so much. Moreover, dealing with that and the horrible mood swings, why the hell bother?

    Personally, I think the insomnia exacerbates everything—the depths of depression I am in — far worse than I have ever experienced evidence that. I have a strong sense that you will understand this point.

    As always, SI, I am grateful for your comments. Take care, luv. x

  5. I totally agree on the insomnia issue, Alix - things seem pretty damn bleak as they are, but endless nights of sleeplessness, and its accompanying loneliness, never serve to help.

    I think I was maybe 'optimistic' when I said I don't want to die. Perhaps a better way of putting it is that I'm ambivalent about life, and ambivalent about death. I don't care either way - as of right now, anyhow - because though I would welcome the comfort that I would expect death to bring, I simply cannot be bothered to top myself.

    I'm in the position of being pretty au fait with suicide methods thanks to the internet, yet it seems so much trouble (well, of course anyone can do themselves in easily with a bit of effort and a lack of interference - but getting a peaceful exit is much more difficult, and I'm a big wuss!). So I continue with this 'meh' of existence.

    Sometimes, like today, I'm not even especially depressed, but if I could instantaneously be dead, I would. Is it some sort of strong nihilism or existentialism? Certainly, being an infernal misanthrope doesn't help, but it's more than just disliking other people - I just think that pretty much everything is shit.

    Similarly, I think you will get this my dear :-)

    Take care of yourself x

  6. SI, while feeling suicidal is an operating realm in which I live, on the better days, while the ‘meh’ existence is there, I sometimes wish I could be struck down with a massive heart attack and be done with it. I’ve always said that if my breast cancer resurfaces (4 years ago, still in remission), I will choose to do nothing about it this time around. Existentialism—in this case while the doctrine in and of itself denies that the universe has any intrinsic meaning or purpose, requiring people to take responsibility for their own actions and shape their own destinies, my choosing to do nothing preventive is still my choice. However, the *intended* act of suicide is taking responsibility for my life (or rather the lack thereof) through the general rejection of established social conventions and beliefs—nihilism.

    Misanthropic is the perfect adjective for me and it does go beyond just hating and mistrusting other people; when your whole life sucks, that pretty much seals the deal, doesn’t it?

    It is as you said; I do get it :-)