So, I went to the hospital the day after the last post. I continued to spiral down to the lowest depression I’ve ever been in, or the lowest in a very long time. I had two suicide plans with details worked out down to the minute. My care team reassured me they would keep me safe and keep holding me up when the suicidality moved on and I was left with crippling depression.
As it turned out, during the hospitalization at the beginning of the month, my two mood stabilizers were increased. I came down from a dysphoric hypomania, had stability for a couple days, then tanked. The mood stabilizers were too strong and we had to let up on one of them to get me back to some stability. Then when the increased stabilizer had been down to its previous level for several days, the doctor increased my anti-depressant slightly, since a slightly larger increase than that had sent me into a dysphoric mania. Yes, I’m very sensitive to meds.
This whole fiasco of the last 12 days started with a too aggressive approach to my mood stabilizers, which, naturally, my doctor wouldn’t totally own up to. Yet he knew. My life is now in a deep depression, deeper than what is even normal for me for the change in season at the equinox (which was yesterday).
Today is my 40th birthday, and I’m very depressed. I’m more than a little suicidal and trying to take it off the table. I don’t want to go back to the hospital, AND I know it’s there if I need it. I’d like to find some meaningful activities that will begin to bring me joy that will help the depression feel a bit better until the drugs have a chance to do their thing when it is as therapeutic dosage in a couple weeks. Right now the activities I take part in, while meaningful to the outside observer, feel like treatment activities to keep bipolar at bay. I’d like to just be me. I need to figure out who that is.