Just when I thought I knew which questions from my family members pushed my buttons, I realized that "so what are you doing with you life?" tops them all. Having recently been hospitalized, I am über-cranky all the time, and - seeing as it was my witchy cousin twice-removed asking me - I've begun to snap. My response is now just a despondent "nothing". I know I look depressed to other people, and have confided in some of them that the hospitalization was for suicidal ideation, but I don't feel any better getting it off my chest. I feel worse and crazier. I changed meds to Clonapin, EMSAM, and Seasonique, and am weaning off Depakote, so part of me thinks that my body is just freaking out. I don't know if this post even makes sense (sorry), but I am in a horrible place (literally and figuratively). My family has a ramshackle cottage on a lake. Thinking it would be a good place to get some writing done (I have this grandiose idea that if I'm somewhere other than my stuffy city house, the creative juices will start to flow), I took up residence. When I was little, the place was thrumming with activity, but is now a ghost house. The only other resident at this point is my 90-year-old grandmother who is the most active person I know. She is often gone to exercise class, her volunteer work, or - as sad as it sounds - the all-too-often memorial service. I am lonlier here than I was in the city, and can't escape the feeling that my life is pointless. I cry more now, and feel really winged out. I read sometimes, but even that seems pointless. Not a word has been written in the notebook I brought to write in. I am in a DBT group, but it's not helping. Feeling hopeless. And helpless. Are those the same thing? Anyway, I feel really crummy and had nowhere else to turn.
Clonazepam .5mg (as needed), Methylphendiate 80mg (ADHD)