Decisions: Jumping Into An Ocean of Unknown Outcomes and Consequences

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I’m getting tired of all these life decisions. I don’t know what’s more irritating: knowing I have to make them and not knowing what to do; or watching myself avoid them like the plague. Both make me feel like shit. I’m ashamed because for so long I was embarrassed that I didn’t have a life and now I technically have the power to create one, and I’m too lost and scared to make one. I also feel like everyone is waiting to see what happens. After all, I have never actually been this way before – so if I do go out in the world, will I be strong enough? Will it have been too soon to leave the cocoon? Will I survive or come home nine months later like I did after the ECT treatment three years ago?

I know everyone has to make life decisions. I guess I’ve always been a fan of letting them be made for me – either by others or by fate. Sometimes if you just wait long enough, you are automatically put into a situation based on timing and don’t really have to decide anything. I guess that was how I felt with London. If I just kept doing the bare minimum but not overthinking it, September would come and I would be on the plane and that would be settled.

I am suspicious of this new possibility of not going to London, but seeking a different path, because I thought of it when I was depressed. So I suppose there’s a part of me that questions if it was made of sound mind or if this is some elaborate attempt to sabotage myself. I have written out pro and con lists and thought through the goals and outcomes for each situation. Obviously, both have their share of good and bad possibilities. Some say the good news is that neither would be a mistake since they are both incredible opportunities, but clearly they have never dealt with depression and anxiety.

I haven’t worked since 2012. Since then, my memory has decreased, my cognitive skills have slowed, and I live a simple (sometimes empty,) life. While I have grown stronger without clinical depression, I almost feel more fragile – not knowing if the strength I have built to help me go to the gym and make appointments will be enough in the real world of jobs, people, men, and life.

I suppose since I made the decision to accept defeat and come home, I have doubted my ability to handle myself. Perhaps that is why I stayed in California for my job after ECT – so that if I fell, I would be close to home. And I did, so I suppose that was convenient. But perhaps having that “safety net” actually made it worse because it allowed me to stay closer to the possibility and comfort of depression, knowing home was just two hours away.

It’s odd given that when I was younger and incredibly depressed, I handled all of this. Not well mind you, but I knew it was something I had to do, so I did it. Part of what I think kept me going when I was in NY and DC when I was younger, before the breakdown, was that I was on my own (without my family,) and independent. I was scared of everything in life, but I didn’t have anyone to hold my hand, so I either did it or didn’t. I was forced to make decisions, good and bad, throughout my illness. And while some of those decisions were ineffective and harmful, they were still decisions. And I suppose I know how to make decisions from a depressed state of mind. I’ve been doing it since I was a child. I developed a system for life within my depression to make myself function – at least at work and in public. But I am not that person anymore and while I am grateful for that, I am really scared. I don’t know how strong this person is. I know, like all new things, you really don’t know until you try. But I also guess there is a part of me that knows deep down that if I fall, I don’t know if I will be able to get up or want to.

When I became depressed a few weeks ago, it became clear to me that I couldn’t go back to feeling that way. I couldn’t go back to a life where I was unable to leave the house, answer the phone, shower, or clean, with a constant desire to hurt and ruin myself in whatever way possible. I told myself when I was 33 that I wouldn’t live a life like that past 35. And now I am turning 35 in August and I feel like I’m teetering.

I’m pretty sure the medication regimen I’m on is working, at least for now. I know the majority of the issues that I believe are causing me anxiety and depression, are big, and anyone, depressed or not, would be having a difficult time facing them.I am aware that there is no reality where I will not carry my bipolar II with me. There will be no decision I can make with complete confidence that I will make it. And I know that no one faces life’s challenges with a blank slate. We all go into our life with our past, our weaknesses, our strengths, our doubts. Everyone spends every day of their life jumping into an ocean of unknown outcomes and consequences.

I guess I’m just really scared that if I jump, I’m going to drown.

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Third Floor or The Penthouse: My Current Attempt at Climbing the Floors of Recovery

If I did reach the penthouse, it would most definitely have a bowling alley!

If I did reach the penthouse, it would most definitely have a bowling alley!

Disclaimer: I recommend not searching for images of “penthouse” on Google. I forgot there was a magazine by the same name…gross.

I was watching a television show the other night and this talented, made guy tells this new ingenue who’s just getting started, and I am paraphrasing: “You are choosing to jump from the third floor because you are afraid you’ll never get to the penthouse.” I.e. you’d rather fail now instead of risking the possibility of succeeding. I imagine you would do this because a) you are afraid you’ll never make it to the penthouse; and b) if you got there and had to jump, that’s going to hurt a lot more than just jumping from the third.

It panicked me, because sometimes I think I want to jump (metaphorically). When I try on hope and see the potential life may have to offer me, I don’t know what terrifies me more: not getting it or getting it and … whatever follows after that.

I don’t know what floor I’m on but I’m getting to a place of discomfort because I am now starting to do things I have only ever done depressed. So, for example, I have gone to parties, flirted with boys, lost weight, and lived alone – all while being severely depressed and often drunk with a touch of self-mutilation. But I’ve never done those things with my new brain chemistry, and sober … until now. And I don’t really know how to do it. I joke about how I’ve been stunted in so many ways by this disease – my experiences so fucked I find myself flailing at the maturity of a 14 year-old (Sometimes 22 – depends on the issue).

I went to a party where I only knew one person and I didn’t know who I would be. After all, in the past, I was “me”. But now, I’m me, but more raw, with possibilities racing through my head. I’m still thinking: “everyone thinks I’m too loud; I’m too obnoxious; I just did a gigantic overshare; wow, they must think I’m a big perv.” But I’m talking to people I don’t know, introducing myself, asking questions, dealing with my answers. Some things are the same: I’m pretty loud; I like to make people laugh; I will take over and “guide” the group if the party seems to be waning…and I am kinda pervy and tend to overshare when I’m nervous. I’ve always done that, but I didn’t know until now that that’s me, not my depressive self.

I’ve also just started to live alone. I totally can’t afford it, but it was my first big step towards independence. The only other time I’ve lived alone, I was suicidal and didn’t leave the house for days on end. So like, how do I live alone? What kind of person am I when I live alone? Can I do it? What if I do the things I did when I lived alone last time: stopped leaving the house; made pancakes every day; didn’t answer calls; self-mutilated in the bathroom. I mean, technically, that’s the example I’m working off of.

So a part of me says: “just pretend that you’re 26 and this is your first time living alone. And you are like this. Now…live.” What I’ve learned: I’m still pretty clean and organized, though not as OCD like in the past (as tempting as it is). I know that if I decide to cook or bake, I should do it around 3, and cook multiple things so when I’m tired at 7 and don’t want to do anything, I’ll have everything ready to go. I still talk to the television and myself, and still need my noise machine and an eye mask to sleep. I still like having systems and schedules – but this may be because I don’t have a job or volunteer internship yet.

Some days I don’t want to get out of bed or leave the house. I do get dressed every day even if I’m not planning on leaving the house so if I do, I’m ready to go. Sometimes I even put on gym clothes just to make it easier if I get an impulse. On those days, even if I just take out the garbage or walk to the library, it makes it different than before. And on those days, I’m just tired and cranky and maybe a little down about my life. This past week, I just felt tired for days, but I decided it was hormones and forced myself out today. I feel better. So, I guess this is what I live like when I live alone. This is me now, living in an apartment.

Unfortunately, for the past few weeks, I have also had cravings to cut. They come on kind of like food cravings. Sometimes it’s in the car, or watching tv, walking to the library, or when I’m getting into the shower. At first it threw me off. I panicked that the meds stopped working. But when I wasn’t thinking about cutting, I was level. I usually just keep driving, or watching, or walking, or washing until the impulse passes.

It makes sense to me. With all these changes, I’ve just been overwhelmed, worried, scared, sad, anxious, hyper, giggly, silly – kind of like being bipolar II but in a good way? I think my cravings are more about my need for control than about punishing myself. I used to cut when I was overwhelmed with pain and nothing else could tamper it. For just a moment, it became a vortex, pulling all my emotions into the act. It never worked the way I wanted it to, it never lasted long, and then I had to deal with all of the ramifications of doing it. Trust me, I know and did know, there are better ways.

But I think in all this chaos of unknowns, I have felt very little control over the big picture. I’ve been craving control and the possibility of a calm minute where a vortex could just quiet my mind. I know that the positive ways of providing some calm are breathing, mindfulness, stepping back from my thoughts, feeling into my emotions, and being in the moment. There’s also medications that can help and I’m not afraid to use them. But you know, sometimes it’s tempting to go with what’s rote than practice a new skill. Especially when you’re shaking and can barely breathe.

I’ve also noticed some changes in my eating habits. Partially it’s because I hurt my knee and my exercise regimen has decreased in intensity. (Man I miss those endorphins!) I have been successfully losing weight gained during the depression and between diet and exercise, I have been scared that the loss of intense exercise would throw off my goal. It seems I have become much more severe with my food. I’m vegan, so it’s not like I have a ton to go crazy off of, but it’s very easy to eat like shit and get some serious calories even when vegan. But I’ve been cutting back, controlling and watching what I’m eating. I find I am limiting my intake and have become far more obsessive about it. So this screams out, once again: control.

But what is also interesting, is that about 3-4 nights out of the week, I’m also bingeing. Not necessarily the kind where I literally am in a fugue state and can’t remember what I have eaten (though that has happened). But I’m angry and tired and scared, and while I have spent the day attempting to reign in those emotions by controlling my food and my schedule, etc., this seems to be more of an attempt to lose control, to literally feed the fear. Anyway, I thought that was an interesting juxtaposition my mind is playing into.

All of this is to say, I’m really scared and scarred. I only know life through a lens I currently don’t have. I’m trying to keep my eyes open, to keep stepping forward and trying new things that scare me. I’m trying to be compassionate when I chicken out and don’t do them. But in the next year, there are some major decisions coming down the pipeline – some of which are already on the calendar. I’m trying to sort out what my hopes, dreams and desires are. I’m supposed to be deciding who I want to be and what I want my life to look like and how to make those things happen without losing my shit completely. I truly feel like a child in an adults’ body and everyone is looking at me to know what a 33-year old should know by now. And I don’t. And I might not ever – because a lot of people don’t either.

I can’t control my destiny down to the next five minutes, let alone the rest of my life. But I know, in the end, I’ll never be in control. Everything inside me, based on my past, is telling me to jump from the third floor – “get off while you still can!” The safety of not trying tempts me every day. I look up at the penthouse and I’m not sure if I’ll ever reach it, or if I’ll even know if I ever get there. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t know if I’d ever recover from that – losing everything I have built and finding myself once again at the ground floor. I’ve done that a few times now, and it’s so fucking exhausting, I feel like it ages my soul.

So many emotional habits that I have built over time are trying to pull me down – telling me it’s not worth trying only to fail. But there’s this little part of me, I guess in this “new” me, that’s kind of like “Why not try? If you fall from the 3rd floor, the 8th or the penthouse, you’re going to end up in the same place, so why not move up and see what’s on each floor while you can? There might be free food! And maybe, just maybe, you won’t fall at all.” I usually giggle at that voice – partly because I want to believe her and I kinda remember her – like an aura of myself as a child surrounding me.

I don’t know if I’m going to make it. And while I really want to end this with something inspirational and uplifting, I don’t think I’m quite there yet.

But I will try to take a breath, become mindful, and take the next step forward by walking alone from my apartment to meet my family for dinner.