I'm failing recovery

[WinterFaust]

I apologize in advance if this post isn't the most coherent. Please bear with me.

I don't feel as though I'm recovering. I want to recover but I don't think I'm equipped to. I have bipolar disorder and I just started medication again. Lamictal. I'm titrating up so it's going to take some time to see if it's effective. But I read that it's not the best for acute depression somewhere?

I started therapy last week. My therapist gave me some things to look into and read but instead I've been crying about my cat and sleeping a lot. His death has really been hitting me hard.

I've been trying to eat daily at least but most of that is eating out. I still haven't been really able to cook. I suppose it's better than the starving I was doing before but it's pretty irresponsible. I just ordered some sushi actually. I hope I enjoy it.

I worry about what my neighbors might think. The girl who moved back home a year ago and had to be hospitalized. The one who doesn't leave the house but orders delivery every day. Wasn't she living on her own before? Didn't she graduate and have a job? Friends? She lost so much weight. How embarrassing. At least they must be embarrassed for me, whoever shares a bedroom wall with me can hear me crying all the time.

I've been better about hygiene, too, though it's a been a struggle. But I still haven't cleaned my room. It's been months, actually. Months. I haven't applied to jobs recently but I've lied to my family and said that I have. I can barely get out of bed. I don't have any in person friends. Depression has made me dull and forgetful. I used to be smart and creative, now I'm lucky if I can even type a basic sentence. I'm living in the home where I was abused as a child and anyone with sense would have gotten out and stayed out. But I've been back here for a year doing nothing. How embarrassing. I wasn't able make friends after I lost mine a year ago, how embarrassing. I struggle leaving the house, how embarrassing. I haven't had a job in over a year and I'm still not stable enough to get one, how embarrassing. I still sometimes miss my ex and I'm not even stable or functional enough to start dating again, how embarrassing. I haven't gotten over the fact that I lost some hearing and my vision is off. I don't know how but it's probably my fault those things happened. I should have gotten over it by now though, how embarrassing. My cat died, it's my fault, and I can't fucking cope, how fucking embarrassing. This post is embarrassing. I'm embarrassing.

Why post this in recovery? I don't know. I want my life to get better even though I deserve to suffer. But maybe I shouldn't be here anymore. I'd say I have nothing left anyway but there's always more to lose. I always think I've hit rock bottom but the ground beneath my feet gives out again.

I'm sorry. This is a self-pitying post. I'm an adult, I should have coping and self-soothing skills but I barely remember how a paragraph works. Embarrassing.

 

[schopenh]

I'm sorry, this sounds like a very rough situation. I know it probably doesn't mean much but I don't find anything you wrote to be embarrassing.
> I'm an adult, I should have coping and self-soothing skills but I barely remember how a paragraph works. Embarrassing.
We're all built differently and this world isn't a good match for many, nothing to be embarrassed about.

 

[Chupacabra 44]

I apologize in advance if this post isn't the most coherent. Please bear with me.

I don't feel as though I'm recovering. I want to recover but I don't think I'm equipped to. I have bipolar disorder and I just started medication again. Lamictal. I'm titrating up so it's going to take some time to see if it's effective. But I read that it's not the best for acute depression somewhere?

I started therapy last week. My therapist gave me some things to look into and read but instead I've been crying about my cat and sleeping a lot. His death has really been hitting me hard.

I've been trying to eat daily at least but most of that is eating out. I still haven't been really able to cook. I suppose it's better than the starving I was doing before but it's pretty irresponsible. I just ordered some sushi actually. I hope I enjoy it.

I worry about what my neighbors might think. The girl who moved back home a year ago and had to be hospitalized. The one who doesn't leave the house but orders delivery every day. Wasn't she living on her own before? Didn't she graduate and have a job? Friends? She lost so much weight. How embarrassing. At least they must be embarrassed for me, whoever shares a bedroom wall with me can hear me crying all the time.

I've been better about hygiene, too, though it's a been a struggle. But I still haven't cleaned my room. It's been months, actually. Months. I haven't applied to jobs recently but I've lied to my family and said that I have. I can barely get out of bed. I don't have any in person friends. Depression has made me dull and forgetful. I used to be smart and creative, now I'm lucky if I can even type a basic sentence. I'm living in the home where I was abused as a child and anyone with sense would have gotten out and stayed out. But I've been back here for a year doing nothing. How embarrassing. I wasn't able make friends after I lost mine a year ago, how embarrassing. I struggle leaving the house, how embarrassing. I haven't had a job in over a year and I'm still not stable enough to get one, how embarrassing. I still sometimes miss my ex and I'm not even stable or functional enough to start dating again, how embarrassing. I haven't gotten over the fact that I lost some hearing and my vision is off. I don't know how but it's probably my fault those things happened. I should have gotten over it by now though, how embarrassing. My cat died, it's my fault, and I can't fucking cope, how fucking embarrassing. This post is embarrassing. I'm embarrassing.

Why post this in recovery? I don't know. I want my life to get better even though I deserve to suffer. But maybe I shouldn't be here anymore. I'd say I have nothing left anyway but there's always more to lose. I always think I've hit rock bottom but the ground beneath my feet gives out again.

I'm sorry. This is a self-pitying post. I'm an adult, I should have coping and self-soothing skills but I barely remember how a paragraph works. Embarrassing.

Lamictal is usually the first line of defense these days for bipolar depression. Lithium is the historical first line of defense for bipolar, but its efficacy is better for mania; and many feel that the atypical antipsychotics are a safer option with less side effects than lithium. But, tell you what, after hundreds of hours of research on lithium I concluded that I wanted lithium, so I advocated for myself and was prescribed lithium. Lots of on going blood work required with lithium. My kidney function starting getting impacted adversely - a common side effect. I was bummed. I concluded it is was a much better option for me than the antipsychotics. Now, I am on Zyorexa. It has a nasty side effect profile, but I only take it prn, luckily.

As you know, it takes a while to titrate on lamictal, and thus, you aren't feeling the effects yet. However, like with all meds no guarantee it will help you.

When I was in crisis years ago and unmedicated my psych wanted to put me on lamictal. I told her I dont have time for waiting and to give me something stronger and faster. She gave me latuda. Nasty side effects for me, so I switched meds.

Your meds aren't making you feel how you want to feel. I highly recommend you call your psych and ask for "a short term add on to bridge your mood while titrating lamictal".

Fyi, I'm bipolar 1. Feel free to PM me anytime. I read studies on psych meds, etc., and have some knowledge.

Hang tough. You'll get your meds sorted out with time.

Wishing you the best!

 

[self destructing]

I'm sorry to answer with a vent. I just want you to know you're not alone. You are being so hard on yourself <3 I know, because I have a similar shame script running through my head. I'm currently in an in-patient recovery program surrounded by supportive and caring people, but I am too ashamed to open up even though I am presently in crisis. Fellow patients emanate sympathy, but I only feel intense embarrassment that I should even warrant their attention, shame that I am so weak, shame thatbI failed at self soothing, a conviction that any interlocutor would dismiss (rightfully) the triviality of my concerns (provided I could even string together the words to describe my thought patterns). If no one were around, I would likely be punching myself in the face. How selfish of me. How embarrassing.

I don't want to get better, because I feel I am so broken. I think I used to be intelligent. I don't know any more. I was my high school's valedictorian. In the last few years of university, I finally started pulling down high As - but how much of that was bc of accommodations, because I dialed up my perfectionism to an 11, bc my family's wealth and privilege permitted me to focus solely on school. I think I used to be ambitious, and to care about politics and social justice. But at present I can only fixate on all my fuck ups, on my arrogance (and consequent shame) in assuming I knew so much/ought to know so much.

Back home, I am also the person going into and out of hospital. Who only leaves the house for appointments. Who hasn't worked in years, and who took 12 years to finish an undergrad. Whenever I see the neighbours, I run back inside because what must they think of me. Their children - near my age - learned to adult successfully. Just across the road, they raised a doctor, a banker, and a tech CEO.

My fellow patients suffer real loss and trauma. How embarrassing that my suicidal ideation and thoughts of self-harm (at least for tonight) have resurfaced because I made the mistake of re-reading some old school papers.

 

[Good4Nothing]

You're not alone. I can relate to a lot of that. I'm an embarrassing loser.

 

[BitterlyAlive]

I don't think any of what you wrote is embarrassing or pathetic. I'm so sorry you're in so much pain. I could feel it with every word you wrote.

I'm glad you're at least trying medication and you at least have somewhere to sleep. I wish it wasn't an abusive household, but I suppose it's a roof over your head. If I remember right, Lamictal is prescribed for bipolar depression because it's supposed to be good at bringing the person's mood back up without it going into mania. I truly hope it starts working for you soon. You don't deserve any of this pain.

I can relate to a lot of what you wrote. I feel pathetic because it's been about a year and I'm still slipping further into the abyss as well. Job-wise, relationship-wise, health-wise. It's a tough position to be in, but the meds may be able to help pull you out with a bit more time.

Please, keep posting if you feel the need to do so. It's good to be able to get your thoughts out, and we care about you even if you feel like you deserve all of this.

 

[Sinkinshyp]

I'm sorry you are going through all this. You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. I wish I had some sushi! I haven't had any in a long time. Don't worry what your neighbors think. They don't have to live your life YOU do. I'm so sorry for the loss of your cat. I'm sorry you have to be in the home you were abused in, I hope your abuser isn't there. I do not know anything about the medication you are taking, others have posted replies. I imagine like other meds while you are adjusting your dose and until it's in your system you wont feel the best. You are trying- and thats something to be proud of, not embarrassed. I'm sorry you are in so much pain. I hope your recovery gets much better and you can find some happiness soon. I hope your meds work and you don't have to go through to many med adjustments or changes. Be PROUD you are trying and wanting to get better.

 

[Chupacabra 44]

I'm sorry to answer with a vent. I just want you to know you're not alone. You are being so hard on yourself <3 I know, because I have a similar shame script running through my head. I'm currently in an in-patient recovery program surrounded by supportive and caring people, but I am too ashamed to open up even though I am presently in crisis. Fellow patients emanate sympathy, but I only feel intense embarrassment that I should even warrant their attention, shame that I am so weak, shame thatbI failed at self soothing, a conviction that any interlocutor would dismiss (rightfully) the triviality of my concerns (provided I could even string together the words to describe my thought patterns). If no one were around, I would likely be punching myself in the face. How selfish of me. How embarrassing.

I don't want to get better, because I feel I am so broken. I think I used to be intelligent. I don't know any more. I was my high school's valedictorian. In the last few years of university, I finally started pulling down high As - but how much of that was bc of accommodations, because I dialed up my perfectionism to an 11, bc my family's wealth and privilege permitted me to focus solely on school. I think I used to be ambitious, and to care about politics and social justice. But at present I can only fixate on all my fuck ups, on my arrogance (and consequent shame) in assuming I knew so much/ought to know so much.

Back home, I am also the person going into and out of hospital. Who only leaves the house for appointments. Who hasn't worked in years, and who took 12 years to finish an undergrad. Whenever I see the neighbours, I run back inside because what must they think of me. Their children - near my age - learned to adult successfully. Just across the road, they raised a doctor, a banker, and a tech CEO.

My fellow patients suffer real loss and trauma. How embarrassing that my suicidal ideation and thoughts of self-harm (at least for tonight) have resurfaced because I made the mistake of re-reading some old school papers.

If you're in crisis and you want treatment, I believe you need to open up to the professionals at inpatient. They can't help you if you hide in a shell. Do you think it might be in your best interest to trust, so the doctors and nurses can get you better?

I recommend you seek clarity for this important decision for yourself.

I wish you the best!

 

[puppy9]

I'm about to crack, I can see that my recovery will not last very long. Just a few days ago I saw shimmer of lights but now it's getting darker. My anxiety is through the roof. Paranoid as hell. And my real life is in a bad shape too; what's the purpose of me living, is the question going through my mind now. Maybe I'm just fated to die in this darkness.

 

[Sensei]

@WinterFaust, you haven't failed recovery. It's just a temporary setback. Aren't you better off now than when you were at the bottom of the abyss? As for your cat, let your tears flow. It's painful to lose a pet and you must allow yourself some time to grieve. I don't think you have to worry about your neighbours. People tend to care less than we think. If you had a neighbour like you, would you really judge her?

 

[Giraffey]

This wasn't embarrassing to read, it was candid and brave and I found myself nodding along with sentence after sentence, recognising parts of your struggle in the downfall of my own life. I wish that I had some better words of advice, but all I can do is echo the above - you haven't failed your recovery.

During a spate of severe depression many years ago, I decided that I was going to do an experiment in sensory deprivation and promptly barricaded myself in a tiny room for a whole week. I blacked out the windows with the kind of thick black foil we use to block light on film sets, I cut off the power and taped a blackout mask over my eyes. I switched off my phone and spent the entire week in total darkness, listening to total silence - I even forbid myself to speak aloud.

After the first day, I had completely lost track of time - I didn't know whether it was day or night. Each time that I woke up I was never sure if I'd slept for a minute or several hours... By what felt like mid-week I was convinced that I'd forgotten what my own voice sounded like, I poured over my memories and yet everything began to take on a strange accent that I no longer recognised. My eyes were stinging from the tears trapped beneath my eye-mask; soon, pain was the only thing I could reliably recognise.

When I emerged from my sensory deprivation a week later I estimated that I'd been cocooned for months. I'd forgotten what sunrise looked like, what it felt like to have a conversation, how much a packet of biscuits cost... Of course, I hadn't really forgotten these things, but from where I was in that deep, dark place there was this barrier stopping me from seeing anything but darkness.

I'm probably stretching the meaning of the anecdote a little bit here WinterFaust but I guess my point is that where you are right now is like how I felt when I was in the middle of complete darkness - it's difficult to see anything but emptiness and blackness. I had no idea when I would emerge from my isolation, I didn't know whether I had just a day remaining or the entire week, so I kept focused on fighting one mental battle at a time and stopped worrying about the bigger picture.

It sounds cliche and I hate giving that advice because I feel like so often people just say that without knowing what it really means... But if you still have hope (and I think you do since you posted this in recovery), forget what the neighbours might think (even the nosey people get bored with gossip very quickly), pick some small task each day (or every couple of days) and focus on that. It could be as simple as finally getting rid of that cup you've had lying around in your bedroom for months. The kind of tasks that got me through the last couple of months was stuff like "dust those two shelves, go out into the garden in the sunshine today, finally buy a new kettle, pick a poster on my wall to replace, feed the birds" etc.

Small and insignificant but they became a reason to get out of bed, move and every time I was struck by negative thoughts I had a focus that I could bring myself back to, so for example when I was hit with thoughts about my ex, rather than jumping back into my bed (my safe place) I'd kind of 'talk over' those thoughts by voicing aloud (in my head) how I was going to accomplish today's task, or how well it had gone if I'd already done it, or what tomorrow's task was going to be etc. It took a lot of the pressure and burden off when I stopped caring about the long-term and focused on one day at a time - as if surviving an apocalypse where 'today' is all that mattered.

I've gone on for way longer than I should, so I apologise for that! That's my 2 cents anyway

 

[Worthless_nobody]

I read your whole post and I relate to SO much to what you said. I want to recover so bad myself but I feel like I'm failing. I had to go back to my parents home (also a place I experienced abuse and trauma) and it's terrible..I really sympathize. I'm so sorry about your cat, my heart goes out to you. I am still not over the death of my dog and it's been over a year. Lots of people told me to "get over it" but no ..we can grieve as long as we need..that's nothing to be ashamed of! They aren't just pets they become our family and will always be in our hearts.

I wish I had advice. Your post wasn't embarrassing. Your not alone in this I'm going thru a lot of the same. Sending hugs to you.

 

[Istanbulite]

I apologize in advance if this post isn't the most coherent. Please bear with me.

I don't feel as though I'm recovering. I want to recover but I don't think I'm equipped to. I have bipolar disorder and I just started medication again. Lamictal. I'm titrating up so it's going to take some time to see if it's effective. But I read that it's not the best for acute depression somewhere?

I started therapy last week. My therapist gave me some things to look into and read but instead I've been crying about my cat and sleeping a lot. His death has really been hitting me hard.

I've been trying to eat daily at least but most of that is eating out. I still haven't been really able to cook. I suppose it's better than the starving I was doing before but it's pretty irresponsible. I just ordered some sushi actually. I hope I enjoy it.

I worry about what my neighbors might think. The girl who moved back home a year ago and had to be hospitalized. The one who doesn't leave the house but orders delivery every day. Wasn't she living on her own before? Didn't she graduate and have a job? Friends? She lost so much weight. How embarrassing. At least they must be embarrassed for me, whoever shares a bedroom wall with me can hear me crying all the time.

I've been better about hygiene, too, though it's a been a struggle. But I still haven't cleaned my room. It's been months, actually. Months. I haven't applied to jobs recently but I've lied to my family and said that I have. I can barely get out of bed. I don't have any in person friends. Depression has made me dull and forgetful. I used to be smart and creative, now I'm lucky if I can even type a basic sentence. I'm living in the home where I was abused as a child and anyone with sense would have gotten out and stayed out. But I've been back here for a year doing nothing. How embarrassing. I wasn't able make friends after I lost mine a year ago, how embarrassing. I struggle leaving the house, how embarrassing. I haven't had a job in over a year and I'm still not stable enough to get one, how embarrassing. I still sometimes miss my ex and I'm not even stable or functional enough to start dating again, how embarrassing. I haven't gotten over the fact that I lost some hearing and my vision is off. I don't know how but it's probably my fault those things happened. I should have gotten over it by now though, how embarrassing. My cat died, it's my fault, and I can't fucking cope, how fucking embarrassing. This post is embarrassing. I'm embarrassing.

Why post this in recovery? I don't know. I want my life to get better even though I deserve to suffer. But maybe I shouldn't be here anymore. I'd say I have nothing left anyway but there's always more to lose. I always think I've hit rock bottom but the ground beneath my feet gives out again.

I'm sorry. This is a self-pitying post. I'm an adult, I should have coping and self-soothing skills but I barely remember how a paragraph works. Embarrassing.

What a lovely post, thank you.