Feeling Bad and Blaming Myself

I’ve been putting off writing this because I feel ashamed. I feel ashamed that my mental health has been really bad lately. Things were seeming a bit better when we got back from Germany, but I’m afraid I’m back to the same routine I was in while I was there. I force myself to do my daily exercise after a couple cups of coffee, but then after my shower, I go straight back to bed. I keep feeling like things are bound to get better soon and I should be able to write some kicky posts with tips on how to improve your mood, but that doesn’t seem to be happening. Instead what happens is that I fall back to sleep and wake up around 7 or 8pm. This is after sleeping 10-12 hours and dragging myself out of bed around noon.

Some days I wake up at noon and start sobbing at the very thought of having to exercise. Then after the strain of pushing myself through a workout, I let myself off the hook and go back to bed. I lie down and cry, or think of things from the past. In general, my brain feels foggy and confused. I find it impossible to hook into doing anything.

Back during those few weeks when I was doing better, I worked on filming and editing (and re-filming and re-editing) a “closet declutter” YouTube video. But once it was finished, I realized I didn’t want to post it. I hated the message it sent about weight loss and felt like it went against everything I intended to say. So that project stopped, and I haven’t been able to pick up with anything else.

I’ve stopped going to coffee shops to write, partly because our usual spot is packed with students lately, but now also because of the Corona Virus. We’re trying to keep our distance from people (and food service) as much as possible, which is just adding to my isolation and tendency to go back to bed.

I’m sure you’re sick of hearing about my depression, but trust me, no one is more sick of this than me. I keep trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong. Am I focusing on the wrong things? Should I be planning my day differently? Does it put too much pressure on me to have a set schedule? Am I timing my coffee and my Klonopin correctly? Should I just be pushing myself more?

I keep trying to blame myself. I keep trying to maintain this fantasy that this illness is under my control and if I just “change my habits” or “think positively,” then I won’t be depressed and I’ll actually be productive. But unfortunately, that is a fantasy. It’s a popular one that fuels many a self-help book. (Don’t even get me started on the few I’ve picked up lately- I mean, how can these people say that cancer is caused by negative thoughts? That’s just batshit crazy and I have to keep myself from getting sucked into it.)

But total bullshit theories aside, I do recognize that there’s some element of neuroplasticity involved with mental illness. My brain chemistry has skewed my thinking to the point that it’s in a bad rut, and supposedly the right drugs will help get it out of that rut. But I want to help that process along as much as possible, and I’m desperate for a way to do that. I mean, there must be something that’s under my control.

My psychiatrist tentatively suggested that I might try to be less self-critical, to be easier on myself, and I flipped out. I felt like he was echoing what all these self-help books have been saying: that I’m thinking wrong, and I would feel better if I thought differently. But honestly, I’m trying as hard as I can to think differently, and it just doesn’t take.

I imagine a world in which I’m not screaming at myself about how I’m wasting my life and I’m actually engaged in various activities. A world in which I have a cheerful disposition and find myself curious about trying different creative projects. A world where I’m content doing household chores and getting dressed (not in pajamas) every day. A world where washing my hair is simple and achievable, and maybe even pleasant. But this world continues to elude me and I have no explanation other than a Mood Disorder NOS (not otherwise specified) or Bipolar II diagnosis (take your pick).

So I’m considering cutting back on my coffee intake from 3 cups to 2 and delaying my Klonopin dose so I don’t fall asleep all afternoon. We’ll see if I can at least get back on track with my writing, or even with planning another YouTube video. I’m not optimistic. It feels like there’s a magnetic pull to the bed lately and it feels like torture to resist it.

Once in bed, I’m usually flooded with past regrets or filled with frustration at all the things I want to be doing but I’m not. I’m stuck with all this energy that I could use to get something done, yet I’m too panicky to focus on anything. If I calm down or take a pill to take the edge off, I lose all motivation to do anything except continue to lie in bed. Matt might rub my feet or read me a crossword puzzle to distract me from this daily tragedy of effort, but every day it starts all over again.

I drag myself out of bed, dreading the day’s exercise, down some coffee and force my way to the gym or onto the treadmill. Relieved once it’s over, I push myself a little further to take off my clothes and quickly shower (rarely taking the time to wash my hair). I go to my closet and have the passing thought that maybe I should put real clothes on, but I quickly decide against it and get into comfortable sweatpants and socks. Breakfast is another hurdle; most often Matt makes it for me. I strategically navigate my apple slices, taking great pains not to eat any brown spots. And then, bed. Why fight it? I always end up there anyway.