Whatever it takes...ECT and hospitalization for depression

Sometimes mental illness feels like I'm stuck in the deep end of the pool and I don't know how to swim....I desperately claw at the water....swallowing mouth full after mouth full...unable to make my way to the edge of the pool and afraid for my life.

I look up and people are throwing me flutter boards and yelling art me to grab on and start kicking. No one wants to jump in the deep end but they don't want to see me die either.  It takes every once of strength mentally, spiritually and physically just to try to bail myself out one painful movement at a time.

This October my mental health took a turn for the worse.  What started out as a fun, busy hypomanic gardening season turned into an epic disaster.  Saying yes to everything got my bobcat S70 stuck in the mud in new construction and I was powerless to get myself out.  A friend came with a bigger machine and pulled me out but I never should have been there in the first place.  All summer I had been ignoring my crippling anxiety because really whats a little anxiety compared to treatment resistant depression?  Nothing copious amounts of arrogance and nicotine couldn't hold at bay.
Did I do any self care? Nope not really, and trying to be a warrior woman catapulted me into another episode of depression 3 months on the heels of the last episode.

So I did what was needed to do given the severity of my mental illness....I checked myself into the Foothills UNIT 2, Impatient psychiatry for ECT.  I got a lot more than I bargained for.  Not only was I doing the one of the most terrifying treatments in psychiatry 3 times a week but I was getting harsh counselling from a tall dark handsome psychiatrist that basically called me out for being such a pushover.  Never once did he bring up my bipolar, and he took me off my mood stabilizers and antidepressants. I didn't really care, Ive relapsed 5 times on antidepressants so my faith was dwindling.  Once a day, we'd meet in a glass room with his interns and he'd lecture me about my inappropriate relationship and my lack of a voice in my life.  I ended up breaking up with my boyfriend of a year and a half, which was the weirdest prescription I've had in the last 13 years.

As much as I appreciate ECT for getting me out of the throws of depression, and don't want to discourage anyone from doing whatever it takes, I honestly didn't find it to be a pleasant experience.
We were woken up early and brought to a brightly lit room, with several nurses, an anesthesiologist and a psychiatrist who performed a treatment constituting of putting us to sleep and giving us a seizure.  After attaching ekg monitors to my upper body, and given oxygen I was given a general anesthesia intravenously.  I could feel the medicine burning my veins and by the time I'd recited half of the serenity prayer I was unconscious.  I'd wake up 20-30 min later, sometimes crying.  I did this procedure 12-16 times and it really made me feel powerless and upset that my mental illness had taken me to such a dark place.

Anyways, as much as I made the best of the impatient stay, I'm pretty horrified to think that the psych ward of 2019 is so archaic and creepy. The atmosphere is extremely institutional, and hasn't been decorated in over 10 years. Walking into the unit one sees a clear separation between the patients and the staff, who spend the majority of their time in a large glass cubicle writing reports.  Once a shift the nurses check in with the patients and ask us if we are suicidal and ask us what our daily plans consist of. The lobby contains 2 glass cubicles for patient interviews as well as a couple of leather sofas. Two long corridors contain the patient rooms, with a large institutional dining room at one end and a tv room at the other end.  Light pink wall adorn the rooms, and the hospital beds are separated by a candy cane curtain.  The ward probably hasn't been updated in 10-20 years.
They still lock problematic patients up in high observation cells across from the nurses station with police officers overseeing their stay.

On the upside, since I wasn't suicidal I got 2 day passes, giving me its of time to enjoy the beautiful fall weather on long nature walks or walks to the mall, where I enjoyed finding one of a kind items at winners, the local discount store.  The hospital also contains a chapel, with a stained glass window and a caring chapalain gave me a prayer shawl.

Finally after a month, the psychiatrist decided I wasn't problematically depressed and told me he hoped he never saw me again.  I was instructed to meet with another psychiatrist about the two month day hospital, who informed me that I wasn't a good candidate because I wanted to maintain my snow removal business once weekly and that I probably had memory loss from ECT.  So that was it, I was released from the hospital with crippling anxiety and told to see my regular psychiatrist in a month.
During my stay I was taken off mood stabilizers and antidepressants but honestly after relapsing 5 times into catatonic depression I was pretty ok with being on minimal medication.

Luckily I have resources, I sought out spiritual counselling, a therapist, hired a life coach and started attending AA meetings more frequently.
Honestly though it scares me to think that there are so many cracks in Alberta's mental health system.

So here I am, feeling pretty scared of the severity of the consequences of my treatment resistant depression.  I don't have all the answers, and as much as there was something comforting about relating to other people facing a similar struggle, I really don't ever want to go back.  I don't think thats a good thing, that societies treatment of mental illness is almost as harsh as the illness itself.

Everyday, still faced with traces of depression,  OCD and anxiety, I just put one foot in front of the other.  I've managed to retain a small amount of clients for snow removal, and gotten a few commissions for recovery rings.  I've leaned into 12 step programming and stopped isolating, letting friends spend time with me every though I often feel like I have nothing to offer.

All I know, is that for the last 15 years I've given my mental illness too much power and thats landed me in a pretty rock bottom place.  I no longer want to believe the harsh critical voices that tell me that when I'm not at my best I'm unlovable and unworthy of human connection.  Every act of self care or progress feels like a betrayal of a long held pattern of neglecting myself when I'm not feeling well, but its worth it.

Starting Over from the Pit of Despair

Last week I broke up with my boyfriend, citing my mental health issues as my reason that I needed space to find some healing.  The relationship was just dragging down my spirit, and it was making it hard for me to recover. I wanted a break from all the feelings, the anxiety, the situational depression.

Unfortunately breakups rarely end well.  Both of us where struggling to swim on our own in this life, alternating taking personal responsibility for being grownups.  I knew it was wrong, we were super co-dependant and fighting alot.

All I ever wanted was a boyfriend, but not like this. Not the co-dependancy and being a victim to my partners issues.   I never wanted to feel responsible for someone else's happiness and wellbeing and to be the reason they are making better choices.

My soul wanted to be free, to be single to find my own rhythm again.  I've been denying myself this because "things aren't that bad," or "they could be worse."

Meanwhile I was anxious and my energy constantly feels depleted because I refused for a year to leave an unhealthy situation.  My business was suffering, my mental health was suffering, but I just sat on the fence, waiting for a big "God moment" to help me make a decision.

 When I asked for space and he threw me under the bus and said the most horrible, soul destroying things about me and my struggles with mental illness and cursed me wishing me the worst that was a big enough sign for me.

So now I find myself shaky, alone and afraid.  Desperately wanting to feel some relief and some contact with my higher power.  I'm getting moments of peace and serenity, but they are fleeting and the guilt and sadness and anxiety feel pretty all consuming at times.

The thing is recovery is a selfish process, and sometimes when you're drowning in the deep end of an emotional ocean, and the ones that are supposed to love you are struggling too and pushing you underwater you gotta bail on the situation and to swim to an unknown shore.  

We are both beautiful humans, just broken and need some space to grow and find our own sunlight instead of fighting and blocking each others light with unconscious patterns of behaviour that don't serve ourselves or our relationship.

This weekend has been pretty tough, and I'm sure he's struggling too.  I want so badly to just be able to forgive and patch things up, but thats not being honest with myself and that's setting us both up for failure.

SO for now I swim, unsure of how long its going to take for me to find my way back to the shore of balance and sanity.

The pit of despair is where I've found myself, but depression isn't what I want as a result.
I need to find acceptance....BIPOLAR is super hard....ADHD is hard....ANXIETY is a monster and BREAKUPS are awful.

The next steps are acceptance and commitment to keep moving onwards and upwards.  To brave the storms of my mind and heart and to find a solid reliance on the healing power of the universe.
I wish everyone thats struggling to find those glimpses of light and to find the hidden strength to keep braving whatever adversity you find yourself up against.

We are not alone and isolation only makes the recovery process take longer.  Thats why I'm sharing my journey, reaching out to friends, going to work and going to AA meetings. I'm not letting familiar patterns keep me stuck, because our job in this lifetime is to fight to take control of what we can, and learn to surrender to the process of healing, even when change feels impossible and our preconditioned patterns of depression feel all consuming.  Truth is I need myself now more than ever to be compassionate and understanding, and I'm not really interested in feeding despair.....I am and always will be a child of the universe, and I wasn't born to suffer, but I was born to learn and grow and unfortunately pain is a natural byproduct of growth.

When You're Under a Raincloud, Look for Rainbows

I had the kind of year that left me in awe and terror of the severity of my mental illness, but also showed me the strength of my own character and resilience.

In late April of this year, I'd had enough of a six month episode of clinical depression and was at rock bottom.   I was at Sunshine Village, pushing my limits on my snowboard, yet no trick landed or amount of speed was quelling the incessant feelings of hopelessness and despair.
I sat on the mountain, my goggles filling up with tears of desperation and frustration.
"Why was this happening?" "What was I missing in my treatment plan?" "Was I treatment resistant? Doomed to a life of depression and misery?"

Part of me knew I had to dig deeper than I'd ever gone before to get out of this rut, so I took myself to the hospital.  A judgemental and mean male nurse told me I was fine and to leave the emergency and go back to my psychiatrist, so I left that day without any help or answers.

Finding out my psychiatrist wouldn't be able to see me the following week sent me back to the hospital, and this time I brought a friend.  The same asshole rolled his eyes, but luckily it's a team approach, so I ended up getting the help I needed.

I knew what my treatment resistant bipolar depression needed and it was ECT and hospitalization, and within 2 weeks I was back to myself.  I did about 10 rounds of ECT and had amazing results and very little memory issues.  Was it scary?  Not as scary as staying depressed and thinking awful thoughts of wanting to drive my truck off the road.

The staff was amazing, the other patients where supportive and I got really into floor hockey.
I'm actually pretty good at floor hockey and honestly for the first few weeks out of the hospital I was secretly wishing I hadn't checked out just so I could score a few more goals.

  ECT got me back to maybe 60% better and I had a business to run so in-spite of my new found passion, I wasn't about to get too comfortable in the psych ward.
Additionally, my room was across from the nurses station, and they are a really rowdy bunch at 7 am, so I never got really comfortable. Not only that, but hospital wards are no substitute for comfortable suburban living.

Do I miss the safe, structured environment and 3 meals a day?  Ummm, yes.  Do I miss drawing and playing the piano?....absolutely.  I did realize that once I was depression free, the rest of the journey back to wellness was my responsibility.

I wanted a miracle, but the last 8 weeks haven't been easy.

My business grew exponentially, and I found myself hardly keeping up, back on nicotine and redbull and working long hours.  I was in the fight, flight, or freeze response trying to juggle a ridiculous work load.  My poor overtired and wired brain started getting obsessive compulsive about germs, a scary symptom of my inability to find balance.  I started just wanting to give up, when was this battle going to stop?  When was I going to find the peace and serenity I so desperately needed?

What gets me through is my ability to always look for hope and the presence of a loving higher power in my difficulties.

Through all these challenges, as storms of mental illness disturbed my inner landscape, I kept the faith I would heal, and that the God of my understanding would guide me on a daily basis.
I have been guided every step by a loving higher power that didn't want me to give into clinical depression and despair.  Friends, counsellors, doctors and random strangers have said the right things to give me the strength to go on.

Nature has shown me amazing weather this summer in Alberta....so many rainstorms, thunder storms and windstorms in June that reminded me of my own storms...frightening but impermanent.
After most rainstorms, rainbows showed me the connection between this realm and the spiritual plane.

I really believe that God is within all of us and knows our struggles and wants us to find healing.  Our job is to keep reaching out and having faith that no matter how long the storm lasts, there will be healing and redemption and we must hold on and keep fighting.

My Own Personal Hell....Nicotine Addiction and Anxiety

I thought getting sober 13 years ago was a great feat.  Well if I can beat nicotine that will be a battle just as excruciating.

Nicotine makes me physically and mentally ill.  Crippling anxiety, lack of energy, terrible gut pains, constant shakiness, should be enough to get me to cut vaping and the nicotine gum off immediately.

But I keep using and suffering, day in and day out, one bad decision after the other.

It might be ok, if I didn't have such an adverse reaction to what many consider a pretty benign addiction.  Unfortunately, anxiety is a side effect and I've got it through the roof.
I'm like Howard Hughes, the Aviator, fucking terrified of germs.

High on nicotine and stress, I periodically think I'm this disgusting, vile, germs monster and there's not enough hand sanitizer to protect the public against me.  Sounds ridiculous right?

I'm fully aware I've crossed a line,  there's some wires in my brain that have gone haywire.

Having only suffered with depression and ADHD in my adult life, I didn't understand or empathize with people suffering with clinical anxiety.  I totally get it, Im afraid to have a shower, what if I don't get clean enough?  I don't want to go grocery shopping, the idea that I'm contaminating everything overwhelms my amygdala.  I feel crippled by something I rarely gave a second thought too....this invisible threat has always existed but I used to be at peace with it....and I would give anything to get over this obsession.

So what am I going to do?

I'm pretty much at rock bottom....

Time to go cold turkey....

Nicotine free vaping only...

Cut the gum back to zero pieces a day ASAP.

I'm strong enough, it's bad enough and I'm worth it...

This is my one and only precious life and this drug is killing my spirit and my resilience.
Sure a couple of cigarettes used to ease my nerves, but those days are long gone.

I can't control nicotine, it controls me and for that reason I gotta be done, once and for all.

Please say a prayer for me....I'm not out of the woods yet.