Tag Archives: nightmares

Holding Pattern

Things are marginally better, I think.

I actually had a nice Thanksgiving.  The outpatient program I used to be part of does a Thanksgiving thing every year, and I went to that with my landlady and her partner.  (My landlady works there.)  I almost didn’t go because I was afraid I’d start crying in the middle of it, but I went and didn’t cry.  Didn’t even want to.  Good food, and some of the leftovers are now in my fridge.  (Thank god, because my food stamps money is out, and the new money won’t come through until December 8.)

I’m looking forward to Christmas with my mom in Florida, so that’s useful.  She mentioned that my Christmas stocking that my grandmother knitted when I was born got lost when she moved, and she doesn’t have a stocking for herself or my stepfather either…so I’m knitting Christmas stockings.  She’s also having trouble finding most of her Christmas ornaments (may have also gotten lost in the move), so if I have time, I’m going to knit her some ornaments, too.  But she’s upset because a lot of the ornaments she’s missing are ones my sisters and I made as kids, and those can’t be replaced.

I’m still massively depressed.  I’m spending most of my time in bed, and a lot of it sleeping.  My sleep cycle is completely fucked up–I sleep for most of the day, get up between 4:00 and 8:00 PM, stay up until 2:00 or 3:00 AM, sleep some more, get up between noon and 3:00 PM…it’s screwed up.  I could probably get back into a semi-normal sleep pattern if I tried, especially if I used my light box, but honestly I just don’t care enough.  Every time I sleep, I have bad dreams and nightmares, but I don’t even really care.  I wake up in a tangle of sweaty sheets with my heart racing, but it’s still easier to be asleep than awake.

I’m not as intensely, imminently suicidal as I have been the last several weeks, but I still just don’t know how long I can keep going like this.  It’s no way to live.  I’ll do okay for food in December because my mother will pay for food for the two weeks I’m there, but I’ll come back to the same financial situation.  And the depression and anhedonia and utter purposelessness…that’ll all still be with me too.  I keep thinking I should ask my psychiatrist for antidepressants or some other drug something to make me okay, but then I remember there is no miracle drug.  I’ve already been on nearly every psych med in the book, and they don’t help.  But it feels like the only option available to me, since support and therapy are basically inaccessible to me.  There’s some part of me that still wants to believe that there’s some solution, even though I know there’s not.

I can keep going for a while, but a life like this is not sustainable.  No one was meant to live like this.

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existential exhaustion

Last night, I dreamed that I was at work on Election Day, and my bosses kept giving me more and more stuff to do, and I just couldn’t keep up with all of it.  A lot of it was stuff I’d never done and didn’t know how to do, and no one would teach me how or help me at all.  Then we lost the election, and they were all angry at me and said it was all my fault.  Then I had to walk home.  It was cold, and I kept falling down because my legs wouldn’t work.  I had to crawl part of the way.  When I finally got home, the power was out, and somebody from the power company was yelling at me for being useless and not paying my bills.

I mean, I also dreamed that I signed Mary Poppins up for a canvass shift, so clearly my brain is kind of nuts.

But the first dream…it’s pretty clear what that’s about.  No need for interpretation there.  It’s how I feel about myself: I’m a failure at everything, my life is falling apart, everybody either already hates me or is going to hate me when they find out what a fuck-up I am, and even my body won’t do what I need it to.  I’m going to be left alone in the dark and the cold because I’m an unlovable failure.

I’m just so tired of fighting so hard and never getting anywhere.  I’m just so tired of everything.  I don’t want to do it anymore.

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Last night, I dreamed about the time in my late teens/early twenties when I was homeless, crashing on friends’ couches and living in my car when I ran out of friends.

In my dream, I’d finally managed to get my own apartment.  It had been hard to get, although I can’t remember exactly how.  It was small, but it was safe and bright and mine.  I felt like I was going to be okay, finally.

And then one day I came home, and everything I owned was tossed in a pile outside the door.  I didn’t own that much, but a lot of it had already been stolen–I don’t know how long it had all been sitting there for anyone to take.  I tried to get into my apartment, but my key didn’t work.  The landlord had changed the locks.  I’d been kicked out.  I’d done everything right, paid all my rent on time and never broken any rules, but I’d been kicked out anyway.

I gathered as much of my stuff as I could hold and ran out to my car, but it was gone too.  There was nowhere of my own left.  I tried calling people I knew to come and help me, but no one was picking up the phone.  I was all alone.

*

I don’t know why I’ve been having these sad, hopeless dreams the last few weeks.  I don’t feel that way when I’m awake, and I’m not dreading going to sleep.  So where are these dreams coming from?

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June 15, 2014 · 8:04 pm

I’m SO FRUSTRATED with this new case manager, S.  She’s nice, but…completely useless.

Every time we meet, she basically tells me I’m fine.  Apparently, as long as I get out of bed, then my mental health is A-OK.  I feel like she’s basically saying, “So, like, why are you even getting services?  You don’t seem crazy to me.”

I guess some of that is her fault.  I mean, I haven’t told her I tried to kill myself a week ago.  But why would I?  I’ve only just met her.  I don’t know her yet, and I certainly don’t trust her.  She doesn’t seem to get that.  She just takes everything at a surface level, and that doesn’t make me feel like she’s someone I even could trust with below-the-surface stuff.

Never mind that I know about 500 times more about mental illness than she does.  She didn’t know what “treatment resistant” meant, for god’s sake.  I mean, doesn’t the term pretty much define itself?  She’s like, “What, you mean like you won’t take your meds?”  She didn’t know what DBT was, either.  I had to explain it to her.  How does anyone who’s worked in psych for more than 5 minutes not know what DBT is?

And clearly she hasn’t read my history at all.  I’ve told her that my diagnoses are major depression, complex PTSD, and DID, but she insists on saying my diagnosis is borderline.  Nope, lady, and it hasn’t been for at least 4 years.  She keeps asking all these questions about my family that I know for a fact are explained in the files my last program sent them.  ZERO sensitivity around the fact that my family is the source of most of my trauma–she just expects me to discuss it offhand.  Today, sitting out in public, she starts asking me what it was like to grow up with a cop for a father.

I mean, what the hell was I gonna say?  “Well, I thought I was hot shit when he took me to school in his patrol car because it impressed all the other kids.  But then at night he’d rape me, threaten to kill me, threaten to kill my sister, make me watch him rape my sister, make me watch him shoot animals, make me participate in animal abuse, and sell me to other men for sex”?

So I just changed the subject, started talking about use of force complaints dropping drastically when one California town made all its officers wear video recorders.  It wasn’t even a skillful deflection, but she did not notice at all.  ‘Cause, you know, I’m totally fine because  I got out of bed, got dressed, and put my hair up.

So now I’m left feeling tense and raw, with memories right at the surface that I didn’t want to have to deal with.  I’ve been having nightmares since the suicide attempt, and I’ve got a feeling tonight’s are going to be even worse.

This just really sucks.

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April 24, 2014 · 11:47 pm

No-Win Scenario

I’m fighting sleep.  Lately, every time I sleep, I have nightmares, and I just can’t deal with that.  Last night, it was my mother killing my youngest sister as punishment for something minor–I think she didn’t want to wear a raincoat, or something like that.  I tried to save her, but I wasn’t fast enough, I couldn’t get there in time.  I kept trying to kill myself because I couldn’t live with the guilt of not saving her, but my mother wouldn’t let me die.

I don’t have anything to do tomorrow, so it’s okay if I don’t sleep…except that I hate being awake, too.  There is no escape.

(Wow, way to be melodramatic.  Seriously?)

Therapy today sucked, too.  I was talking about how crappy it feels to not be able to do anything that means anything, and A just wasn’t getting it.  She said something to the effect of, “What if you make getting healthy your purpose?” and I just shut down.  Totally. Not. Getting. It.  I told her that redefining the problem isn’t going to help, and she said it might.

“Yeah, ’cause this is what, George Orwell World?”  I don’t know who said it, but it wasn’t me.  I could hear it, but I was not the one in control.  Then I tried to push everyone else away from the front.  You’d think by now I’d have learned that that isn’t a good idea, but nope, I fall into the same holes.  So then there was this big shoving match in my head, and I got distracted by that instead of what was going on in the world outside my head.

A asked what was going on, and I told her I felt like she didn’t get it.  She kept asking how I knew she wasn’t getting it and how I would know if she was getting it.  I said I didn’t know, but she kept pushing, and that screws with me.  When I’m already struggling, being asked a bunch of questions I can’t answer stresses me out more because I feel like I’m going to get in trouble for not knowing the answers.  I kept wanting to tell her I wanted to leave, to go home, but I couldn’t speak or even move.  So that made for a fun day.

I don’t want to go to therapy anymore.  I don’t want to get out of bed anymore, except for these damn nightmares.  I feel like I just can’t win.

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What the hell is WRONG with me?

I am really not okay tonight, and I have no idea why.

I’m incredibly agitated. I can’t settle down, and nothing holds my attention. I can’t sit still. I want to rip my skin off. I want to smash things, break windows, punch holes in the drywall.

I’m obsessing about self-harm because it’s the one thing I know would calm me down and make being conscious at least vaguely tolerable. I haven’t cut in, god, probably four years, but NOTHING else is working right now, and if I can’t get this under control, I’m probably going to do something truly goddamn crazy.

I haven’t taken my sleep meds because I don’t want to sleep. In the three hours of sleep I got last night, I woke up four times from nightmares. I don’t even remember what they were about–I just remember thinking they weren’t bad, so why the fuck was I so scared?

It is taking everything I have to keep from hyperventilating, and there is NO FUCKING REASON. Nothing happened. No triggers. I’m just fucking nuts, and all I can think about is slicing my arms up to make this stop. This never happens. I never get this crazy without knowing why. I think I am truly fucking losing it and I don’t know if I’m going to make it through this night.

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