I'm Crying About a Sweater
It's true. I'm actually crying about a sweater. It's the sweater I'm wearing- my purple-grey, short-sleeve cardigan in a cotton-blend knit. It has this great "ladder" weave - I think that's what it's called- that's kind of chunky but not fuzzy or bulky. And the style is great- short rolled sleeves, a rolled shawl collar, dolman-shaped sleeves. But it doesn't hold its shape no matter what I do.
I got it when I was working in an office at Brown University, about 3 years ago. I was actually having a shockingly good reaction to the medication Abilify. 5 days at 5mg, and I was securing said job, soon working full-time and surprising my husband by not having a meltdown every 20 minutes. It was like a magical reprieve- I had no psychological issues, just blissful functioning and optimism about the future. It was at this point that I realized that my illness is clearly chemical. I've often doubted myself, asking whether I'm benefiting from being sick in some way. Was there some subconscious martyrdom or attention-seeking at the root of my disease? This experience on Abilify proved to me that the answer is no. Given the right chemicals in my brain, not only did I have no baggage, I thrived. I was unfazed by small slights, things that would usually send me into a tailspin. I actually started therapy to cope with the reality that I was better. It was such a huge difference that both my husband and I felt it a major life change. And then six weeks in, the Abilify stopped working. Apparently this is a common phenomenon with Abilify- after a few weeks, it just. Stops. Working. I started crying in the bathroom at work and eventually had to quit. I just couldn't get through the day without melting down and sobbing. That was the last job I had- after leaving, I applied for disability. Clearly my illness was preventing me from working (this was the second job of late that I had to leave due to my symptoms), and I was immediately approved. And then I spent two years chasing that Abilify magic. I tried every possible dose, going all the way down to 2mg and all the way up to 30mg, way above the usual dose for depression. And my heart broke every time it didn't work. I was devastated. Medication disappointment was something I'd been through before, but this was different. I'd lived the life i was hoping for, and then had it taken away. I'd had a glimpse into what could have been, and was then thrust back into my typical reality of debilitating bipolar II depression.
So this sweater was something I wore a lot during that blissful time of working full-time. I'd sewed on a button with a little snap behind it so it closed in the front. It was always handy in that air-conditioned office environment, and I loved the purple-grey muted color, the texture, the style. But when I stopped working there, it was shoved to the back of my closet with all my other work clothes. Short-sleeve sweaters are rarely practical for me, except to throw on in summer, maybe in air conditioning. I wore it this way two summers ago, when I was going through TMS- Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. A new and experimental treatment seen as an alternative to ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy), I endured the pain of the magnet hitting me right on my cranial nerve for 6 weeks. I had a line drawn on my head with a Sharpie so they could try to position the machinery correctly each time, though it didn't solve the problem of it hitting my nerve. I had to go off most of my meds for the duration. On a particularly bad day, I was threatened with hospitalization by the attending doctor. Between sessions, I would shop. Thrifting for Ebay or Thredup resale items became my addiction, my source of dopamine. I wore that sweater in the cold, air-conditioned Salvation Army for hours at a stretch, stopping only for coffee or because they were closing. But the thing about this sweater is that it never looked the way it did in my mind. I had this idea of it as a cool, edgy, chunky knit with a slouchy feel and a shawl collar. In reality, the collar never stayed rolled over and the sleeves constantly unrolled themselves too. The dolman sleeve has never done me any favors (something I'm only now realizing) and from the back it just made me look big and kind of hunched over. I recently stitched the sleeves so they were permanently rolled and stitched the collar permanently into a shawl style. So now it looks like some kind of Frankenstein's monster in order to hold its shape, and it still doesn't fall right. It still doesn't work. It's time to let it go. But I keep questioning myself- I love the color, the texture, the idea behind it... But it doesn't work. Just the way the Abilify ultimately didn't work. Just like the TMS didn't work. Just like Ketamine treatments didn't work and Vraylar didn't work and Adderall didn't work and Seroquel didn't work and Lithium didn't work and Effexor didn't work and Prozac didn't work and Cymbalta didn't work and Viibrid didn't work and Pristiq didn't work and Topomax didn't work and Xanax didn't work and Rexulti didn't work and Medical Marijuana didn't work. Just like that. So I'm sad.