...There Will Be Time. To Prepare A Face To Meet The Faces That You Meet...

I cannot prepare a face any more.

Today while I was preparing, going through the endless little rituals to stave off the darkness, I caught myself tracing the groove in my forearm just below the wrist, where the veins are blue. A little later, while filling a glass of water, I looked a little too long at the serrated edge of the bread knife.

I cannot constantly keep myself occupied, which I now must do if I am to keep myself from falling. It is time to check myself in. I'll still make the trip I spoke about yesterday, but I cannot pretend that it will help.

Signing off for now. I'll pick this up again providing that where I land has decent Internet access. In closing, this came to mind.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons

Thanks to this link for the popup free (I think) transcript

...And We Drown

Unfortunately, the relief from my ongoing dance with the beast that is depression, has proved to be only temporary. Lamactil, the latest drug I am guinea-pigging, has failed. Or it isn't working, or it is taking it's time to reach the therapeutic dose, time that I no longer have.



I've spent the past few mornings battling with all of the strength I have, to not harm myself. I have extendep my workouts, bought and read numerous books and magazines in an attempt to drown myself in them and, in so doing, kill the pain. I've surrounded myself with the color green, said to be a soothing shade, taken 5-HTP, said to increase serotonin levels, and have filled the car on my drives to work with alternately distracting and uplifting music.



Nothing is working.



Today, at work, I could feel the knife in my hand, the lateral cuts on my wrists, the slow, oncoming wave of unconsciousness and the peaceful state of the absence of thinking before the ambulance charged in. And so I've tidied up some work loose ends and have made a deal with my logical mind: if tomorrow's trip to visit human and canine friends does not alleviate this black state I am checking myself in to a hospital before my fear of committing an irreversible act dissipates completely.



Oddly enough I feel the need to apologize, probably for my percieved lack of strength. Completely illogical, yes. But it is still what I feel.



If I do wind up hospitalized, in a place with WiFi access, and if they don't take away my handheld, I will continue to post, in the hopes that someone out there will benefit from a blow-by-blow account.



All for now. I can still feel the cuts gn my wrists, and since a protracted stay at Starbucks...accompanied by calming tea and soothing oatmeal (said to stave off winter blues!!) has not helped, I am going to try napping with the dog.

Dog Knowledge

During this ongoing struggle with the beast that is depression, I have often wished I could be my dog. Or at least behave like him without fear of repercussions. It seems as though he's got quite a few things on straight.

• If you're tired, sleep. It builds up valuable energy for later
  



• If you're bored, sleep. It passes the time and keeps sadness (i.e. depression, for humans) at bay



• If you don't like something, go elsewhere.



• If you need something fast, make some noise. People will work to figure out what you need.



• At least three times a day, take a walk around the neighborhood and leave messages for those like you. Let them know where you're at, what you like to eat, stuff like that. Pee is good for this purpose; it's free, and if you run out you can use water to refill your stock. Which is also free.



• If someone threatens you, stand up to them. Barking is good for this. If that doesn't work, you have carnivore teeth for a reason.



• Play really hard. Race after that ball as if there were a pack of dogs going for it, wrestle for that rawhide as if it were the last one you'll ever get. Hard play leads to good sleep...and sleep is always good.



• If you want pats, ask for them.



• If you're excited, show it. Jump up and down, bark, pant. Humans, for some reason, like it that you're happy to see them.

I wonder if there's some way I could switch places with him, even for a day. Problem is, I don't think he'd survive life in my head very well...

...I Must Scream

One thing I've noticed lately, as my psychiatrist comes closer and closer to nailing the magic combination of drugs that will cure my depression, is an increasing intolerance for the various slings and arrows of interpersonal communications.

Example: I work for a motely crew of techs of the male variety, all with their unique ways of asserting their alpha male control issues. The other day I just so happened to threaten the status of one such specimen and have been paying for it ever since...in the form of pointed, i'm-taking-control emails. Unfortunately for me, he has a unique way of linguistically whipping others into a frenzy, so that my immediate boss...a relatively easygoing guy...comes down on my head like Willie Coyote's ACME anvil instead of hearing my side first.

This stuff used to roll off my back, when I didn't have feelings other than perpetual numbness or deepest darkest despair. Now? Well I started crying out of sheer frustration at not being heard during my last conversation with my supervisor. At work. So that should tell you something.

My shrinker says it's a sign that I'm healthy. That's great and all but my newfound health is screwing with my work and making me feel like a black bunny in a snowy flat field with wolves around the edges

Well that's enough for now. I've hidden in the bathroom for far too long.

Obligatory yes-this-really-is-a-blog link: My latest trial drug

Random Thoughts

In no particular order:

• After having a tearfully spectacular breakdown at the last appointment with my head shrinker, I am now guinea-pigging a new mood stabilizer, the name of which escapes me completely. I am tentatively positive regarding its effecacy; I am curiously anxiety-free this morning, but that may be due to the fact that the most taxing thing I did all weekend was taking the laundry in for laundering

• Working in an environment that consists primarily of men isn't a problem per se. It's working in an environment of men and subsequently having your work questioned at any and every turn that sucks the life out of you. That, and the numbing realization that any other IT department you make the jump to will be, most likely, exactly the same.

• Screaming in the car is a wonderful way to vent off rage buildup. Bonus: no one can hear you.

• I am in desperate need of a vacation or short term disability leave. I am still trying to figure out which of the two options I need the most, the only thing keeping me from checking out.

More of the Same

This whole post title thing is beginning to frustrate me beyond belief.

More Random Testing

More Random Testing

Still more testing. I'm going to figure this post title thing if I have to hunt down the Blogger creators to do so.

Random Testing

Random Testing

Pay no attention to that man behind that curtain.

In A Minute There Is Time

Quick, random thoughts and updates in no particular order since the starbucks I am in is playing round after round of slit-your-wrists music and, although figuring out how to manipulate this PDA program to transmit Blogger formatted posts is helping my worn out brain, expending any additional mental energy...say in developing a narrative flow for this mess in my head...will push me over the edge.

• Hospitalization is becoming an inevitability rather than a possibility. Having two completely different reactions to the exact same type and dose of medicine is a signal, to me at least, that something is desperately, desperately wrong. To me it signals the first falling stones of a complete structural collapse, and I'd rather get the architectural team in now while the building is still standing
  

• On a tangential, yet similar note, the utter unpredictability of my moods is what is driving me insane. That, and the maddening Concerta side effect of anxiety; it is a torturous combination that is causing quick, violent mood swings and accompanying fast-moving thoughts.
  

• Also tangentially...if genetics really does play a factor in depression....I am completely screwed. Out of sheer desperation I emailed my mom and sister to ask if and when they'd had experiences with the beast. Both responded in the affirmative, one is still wrestling with it. Not doing to good either, if recent interactions are any indication.
  

• Okay, what the hell is with Starbucks and wrist-slitting music? In the past hour or whatever I've been here, they've played a steady stream of Kate Bush, Sarah MacLaughlin and The Indigo "Blood and Fire and Prince of Darkness" Girls. I'm all for these singer-songwriters and I distinctly remember TIG's "Gallileo" as being funny in a quirky sort of way, but come on!! An overcast Sunday morning, on the eve of a Monday workday no less, is no time for dirges. Maybe it's just this particular location.
  

Thus endeth the randomness.

Lightning Fast Post

Between the handheld meltdowns, work insanity and other variegated craziness, I haven't had much chance to update here. I still don't have much time, so this is going to be quick and dirty.

The Drugs
My supplier has determined that the anxious, agitated, impending doom jitters were caused by taking all of the meds at the same time. His solution? Splitting the dose between two times in the morning. Hopefully it will work...but having gone through this infinite times before, and it being ten minutes shy of five am (meaning that my blood levels of happy drugs are through the floor)....I'm not holding my breath.

Work
I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to find another means of employment...preferably at a place where the availability of a computer system that I am responsible for isn't a "life or death" (and by "life or death" read: loss of cash to owner) situation. I'm nosing around the online application boards of universities, since "institues of higher learning" sounds peaceful and stress free unless, of course, you're there to learn higher.

Other Oddities
My head shrinker insists that the calming effects of the various Snoop Dogg, Wu-Tang Clan and Eminem I listen to are due to the fact that they (the rappers) are expressing my (me) anger for me. I pooh-poohed that idea then, but now I may be eating that pooh because think she's right. Only it's a bit more complicated; it's not so much that Eminem is angry in his songs, it's that he's frustrated...with himself, with people, with the world at large...into that anger. Also the kooky way that he vents that anger. I mean, come on...who can't listen to something like this and let loose a small chuckle or two?

I'm harder than me tryin to park a Dodge
when I'm drunk as fuck
Right next to a humungous truck in a two-car garage {*CRUNCH*}

Apologies for the language. I'm off for another crazy, crazy day.

Like A Patient Etherized Upon A Table...

This, right now, right this very instant, what I feel....like the deep breath you release after a tense situation at work has just been resolved and you've hung up the phone and now have a few minutes to relax before rushing into the next fray...and you feel like you can handle the next fray and the one after and all those after...this is how I want to feel. All the time would be good, but right now I'd settle for half a day.

Incidentally, "Forgot About Dre" is an excellent song for keeping the grey matter occupied enough to bypass the experience of depression. Something about the baseline/rap slow/fast rhythm throws the brain off balance and keeps it there so it can't settle into the steady gray despair. Or at least it does for me.

Do I Dare Disturb The Universe?

It is steadily becoming clear to me that either I find a treatment for this depression that actually works or I need to find a new mode of employment...one that involves little to no stress. Which, given the input I've received from some aquaintences, may be close to impossible due to the foul nature of economy and corporations these days.

I'm still doing the 54, 54, 20 (that's two 54mg Concerta tablets, one 18mg of the same and one 20mg Ritalin tablet for those of you just joining the narrative flow) dosing all at the same 6am time. I've started to take the two 150 Effexors at the same time as well.

To this I've added the following:

• one omega-3 capsule

• one zinc tablet

• one multivitamin, formulated for active adults

• 2 tablets of milk thistle

• 2 tablets of triple ginseng

The fish oil and zinc are for depression, and the milk thistle for good liver function, or so says British Vogue. I forget what the ginseng is for, but right now none of it seems to be working. I can't believe I feel this way and no one sees. There should be a gaping wound somewhere, preferablely of the chest-sucking variety for me to be in this much pain.

Back to the salt mines. I don't know how I'm going to make it through...I have no more tricks up my sleeve.