I got this in my email today and it couldn’t have come at a better time because I really needed it. I thought I would share it here and hopefully it will help some of you too.

Today’s thought is:
Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.
- Joe B.

Oh, how we hate pain! Doesn’t everyone? And it isn’t true that pain is
ennobling or in some other mysterious way “good for you.” The only
people who say that are those who have gotten by, so far, without much
pain. But sometimes things have to get worse – more painful – before
they get better.

We feel painful conflict when we start to recover After all, we have
lived in certain systems for many years. And these systems are self-
perpetuating-they always seek stability. Sparks fly when we move in
on our systems and start to change the rules. There is always
confrontation when we act instead of react. And confrontation means
challenge. In the midst of conflict and confusion, the pain of forging on
can be almost unbearable. It would be so easy to throw in the towel and
surrender. But sometimes there’s just no way out but through. The
rewards of discovering that path are great and will stay with us for a
lifetime.

Today, I pray for courage to persist. If there has to be pain, let me
accept it now, get on with it, and through with it.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Today’s meditation comes from the book
Days of Healing, Days of Joy by Earnie Larsen and Carol Larsen Hegarty copyright 1987
available through our online bookstore at:
http://www.hazeldenbookplace.org/store/product.asp?sku=5024

I went to my pdoc on Tuesday.

He upped my Wellbutrin to 200mgs per day, just slowly upping until we probably get to max does. He also took me up to the next step of Topamax. I’m now up to 200mgs of that per day. Still on the Klonipin, Lamictal and the Seroquel too.

We spent a lot of time talking and he reminded me that what I am going through is just another depressive cycle, that I have been here before and that it will even out and that I made the commitment to stick with my treatment plan. I agreed with him and I am committed to sticking with my treatment plan. I’m not going to stop the meds. I know they’re the part of the only thing keeping me from sinking even deeper into that black hole.

I seriously just want this cycle to end. Just when I think the cycle is ending I take another nose dive. Its like it’s teasing me, like here’s the light, reach for it, its right here and then when I do, its snatched away from me and the darkness laughs its evil laugh and says, “FOOL! Did you actually think I would allow you to have it?”

I’ll get hold of that light somehow, someway and I will do it soon. I just don’t know when. I just have to keep fighting. Medications and therapy are my weapons and my armor and writing is another weapon for me I suppose as well and if by writing and sharing my experiences like this I help others arm themselves, then that makes me happy. That’s all I want to do… help others. I don’t want others to suffer like this. I don’t want ANYONE to go through this hell.

Happy Birthday Baby, I love you!
Love,
Mom

Here I am *again* — Your neighborhood begger — reaching out for help this time….

On that downward spirial into oblivion
On that roller coaster that never stops–
so unrelenting, so unforgiving, so non-stopping.

There are no breaks. There are no breaks to pull,
no attentend to push the stop button, but I spiral on,
gaining speed, spirialing downward, further and further
into the abyss of darkness.

I want to get off this ride, at least come back up
into the light, into the sun, into the warmth.

So cold is the darkness, so alone and dark
so much pain, so much torture, so much inner turmoil.

When does this ride go back up? When do I hit the pully
chain that pulls the cart back up? Why can’t I break free
of the bars that hold me captive in this seat so that I could
at least climb back out of this spirialed hole? If I did,
would the cart then turn on me with gnashing teeth and
run over me? Would it eat me alive and destroy me all
together then?

Do I have a real choice expect to ride this out? Others
seem to think I do. I wish I thought the same. I wish I
were that strong to just say, “Yes, I have that choice!”
and steer this cart back up into the light, but I am
spirialing, spirialing, uncontrolablably into the dark abyss
with no rope to pull myself out.

I don’t like this ride, someone save me for I seem to feel
hopeless right now to save myself.

I look upward and open my mouth wide so the pills fall in
and I swallow hard. I swallow all the pills that fall in
and there are many. I swallow with blind faith that they are
going to pull this rocket ride back up… back towards the top…
back towards the light. Will it? If so, when?

I hear water below me. Will this cart float? I hope so. I’m starting to crash into the water… into the dark and stormy sea. Its dark and the waves toss my little cart to and fro carelessly like a feather in the wind as they crash over me and my now little wooden boat, sinking me one minute then lifting my up and crashing me back down, just as the roller coaster did, but worse in some ways for now I fear drowning.

I look around and there are no points of light that I can see.
No moon,
No stars,
No light anywhere with the exception of the streaks of lightening
flasking across the ink-black sky as thunder booms in my ears.

The waves rise me up and crash me down as I hold on to either side
of the little wooden boat for dear life. I’m not ready to give up, so I hold on, hoping to see light somewhere, somehow. Hoping, searching,
for direction.

Instead of raining water, medications rain down on me. I welcome them. I know I need them and they are a welcomed relief because I
know they are going to help me find the light again. I know they are going to help me navigate the stormy sea to the light, even though
this darkness is overwhelming me right now, I’m scared and I feel lost, I know I can’t lose hope, even though I am close to doing that right now. I have to hold on to that, no matter how tired I am, I know I have to hold on to it. It is my life line and I know that.

I have to look for the lighthouse, but know not what direction to turn, I feel I am going in circles, and perhaps I am, but hopefully, I will straighten out and stay my course, until then, I hope words of encouragement will befall my ears to help me pail the water from my little boat to help me keep from sinking.

I went back to the pdoc this past Tuesday. Got another adjustment to the med cocktail. The topomax got increased to 75mgs twice a day, still taking 100 mgs of Lamictal twice a day; 1mg klonipin twice a day, and now Welbutrin has been added.

He added it in at a low dose to begin with, just 100mg to start with in light of recent life events. He doesn’t want to flip me up into a total manic cycle.

I’m still grieving over the loss, but I am muddling through. Doing a little more each day. I know that I’m in danger of slipping, very easily, back into a deep and dark depression, but I don’t want to go back there so I am doing what I can to keep from going back there. I’m fighting it.

I’m sticking with my treatment. I’m committed, I’m going to remain committed. I have to in order to save my life.

One moment at a time. I have to play by those rules.

I’ve started worrying about everything again. Worrying so much that I’m breaking out again. I look like I have acne on my chin again, but I don’t. Its the stress from worrying about everything.

I’m still having frequent crying spells and energy is zero. I’m counting the small achievments like my workbooks tell me to do. Like getting up. Showering. Brushing hair, teeth, all the stuff so many take for granted. Along with getting dressed, cleaning the house, reading so many pages of a book, writing a poem, hell, blogging! It all adds up.

I’m coming back. Slowly, yes, but still, I’m not gone.

Lost in a raging black sea

tossed and thrown by the waves

 

Lost in the darkness and feeling alone

searching for the light of the home bays

 

Darkness swirls ’round me

Stealing my thoughts and clouding my mind

 

No stars to guide me along this path

Just me and myself and the healing of time

 

There’s a beacon that reaches out to me though

casting a hand of hope

 

Throwing me another life saver once again

Just reach out and hold my hand

 

I reach out once more and she grabs me again

she pulls me into her arms and hugs me

 

welcoming me into her light, welcoming me home

telling me its okay to take my time.

 

She is my lighthouse.

Thank you all for your loving, caring and supportive words! They mean a lot to me.

I’m dealing with reality one moment at a time. That’s all I can do, right?

I have a pdoc appointment on the 29th. Boy, do I have things to talk to him about this time!

I’m going to ask if we can’t go on and add an anti-depressant to the mood stablizers because I can’t handle this depression any longer. I know what I just went through/am going through is contributing, but still, I need something to help with it. I know there’s no miricle pill that is going to instantly lift me out of things, but I feel that I need more then the mood stablizers and he did say that on the next visit if my depression hadn’t gotten any better that we would be adding one. *sigh*

I have to be careful to keep myself rooted in reality right now, no matter how bad I want to retreat to a fantasy, safe world and isolate myself from the real world. To that dark place that, if there too long, I can’t find my way back out. I feel myself slipping again though. I’m scared.

Thank goodness I only have a few days to wait.

Well, I’m going to force myself to get dressed today, so I’m going to make myself get started on the day. Thank you all for being there.

We’re back home after being in Kentucky for Mamaw’s funeral and all that.

I’m not handling things well at all. Didn’t handle things well at all down there either.

This woman raised my husband and was in my own life for over 22 years and was more a grandmother to me then my own. I love her with all my heart and the pain I am going through and my husband is going through is unbearable.

*sigh*

Trying to get back into reality. It hurts. The whole world hurts right now.

Since coming home, I haven’t gotten dressed. Taken showers, put sweats and pajama tops back on. Haven’t faced the world.

Today is the first day I’ve even faced the computer world.

Nope, not doing well at all folks.

Thanks you to those of you that wished us well and love.

Love,
Stormy

Will be offline for awhile… we had a major death in the family. I’m not sure when I will be back.

Stormy