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Thanks for visiting my diary. I've been journaling since 1984 and have chosen to share some of my entries online. They are not all positive thoughts, but I hope that reading them might be a blessing to someone who needs encouragement.
If you are just coming to my diary for the first time, please read my introductory entry, where I share some background that is important if you plan to follow this diary regularly.
Please also visit my music page, where you can hear samples from my debut CD, I Believe, which features songs written based on experiences shared in this journal.
Since I was in junior high, I have thought that there was something wrong with me emotionally. I tried to convince myself that I was overly concerned and just looking to make excuses for my lack of responsibility for my emotions. I have been told that I shouldn't take things so personally and that I choose to feel the way I do. I always thought that I must not be trying hard enough to not let things bother me and that I must not really want to feel different. People wanted me to take my problems to a counselor--they did not want to hear about my problems/needs. During a couple of years I did go to counselors, but going to counselors was a temporary fix. I was still moody--mostly depressed. I kept the depression to myself until it became so bad that I couldn't stand it.
I first became suicidal when I was 14. My family was visiting my grandparents in Oklahoma. They had a pool. One day my sister said she hated me. I felt like I was in everyone's way, and I thought that maybe I could put an end to it. I went out into the garage, which had been converted into an office/bedroom. I sat on the bed for a couple of hours and thought about drowning myself. It would have been a good time. Most of the family were gone; the rest were watching TV and didn't even know what I was doing. They thought I went to take a nap. The problem was that I knew drowning wouldn't work. I could swim, and I knew that I would come up for air on instinct. Drowning is a way I never want to die.
The next time I became suicidal was when I was 15. I had been seriously depressed for about five months, and that particular day I was stood up for a date. I wanted to just go to sleep and never wake up. I knew of no other way to kill myself at the time. I was embarrassed because I was supposed to sing a solo at church the next day. While I was singing, I started to feel better.
I did not become suicidal again until 1990, during my first year of college. I was attending a college 18 hours away from home, and I was having problems relating to my roommate. I was seen as dependent because of my blindness, and I wanted to change things so that no one would have to do things for me. I insisted that killing myself was not an option. I was in counseling at the time, and I talked with my counselor about the way I thought people saw me. The counseling helped a little, but the depression usually came back. There were a few times when I felt really good and pretended that nothing was wrong. I always became very hopeful when anything remotely encouraging happened.
Last summer the person I was dating commented on my tendency to change suddenly from being very happy to crying and feeling hopeless. He was obviously not able to handle this problem--he told me that I was immature and unstable. We stopped dating then. I was still moody, and I had lost interest in school and writing. (I write music and an occasional story.) I also became emotionally dependent and very fearful of losing friends. Only as I write this letter have I made the connection between my moodiness and my dependency and fears.
I have known that the depression is getting worse for about two years. In the beginning, it was my apathy about my housekeeping that told me something was wrong. I stopped taking good notes and began missing more class. By May, I was sleeping a lot and had stopped caring much about my appearance--I don't care if my hair is washed every single day like I used to, and I wear the same outfits two or three days in a row. When I felt good, I slept three or four hours a night, threw myself into homework and other activities. I could concentrate for hours, and I hated to be interrupted. I would even skip meals or eat them in weird places so that I could work on one of the many projects I had in progress.
In June I became suicidal. One night my roommate and my fiance went to the store, and I stayed home. I checked my E-mail and found a letter another girl had written about some sensitive issues. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I had to leave because I nearly opened the medicine cabinet and took my roommate's whole bottle of antihistamines. I did not think about it. It was an impulse, and I nearly lost control of it. The reason it scared me was that I knew it would have worked. I went to sleep so that I wouldn't try anything. When they got home, I told them about what almost happened and cried a lot. At that point, I knew something needed to be done.
While I was at my parents' house in July, I made an appointment with their doctor. I had to wait a few days to see him. At times I was too embarrassed to go, and I was both afraid and a little hopeful that he might put me in the hospital. At other times, I thought I could handle the problem myself and almost cancelled the appointment. At other times, I thought there was no problem. I went to the appointment because I knew rationally that there was a problem. The doctor prescribed Zoloft. It did not take long to kick in after I took it for the first time. I felt extremely happy and creative. I tried to make myself concentrate because I could hear the beginnings of a new song in my head. I got upset when anyone talked to me because it interrupted my thoughts.
The depression did not come back until a couple of months later. I had to go in the hospital because I had mycoplasma, and I became very emotional. I thought that maybe the illness was affecting my emotions. Since then, my depression has been getting worse, and I have frequent short periods of feeling very hyper and silly. Lately I am finding it difficult to concentrate, and I wander from project to project. My grades are also not so good.
During the last two days, I have been stuttering a lot and feeling very weak. I am afraid because this makes me think about my grandfather, who stuttered and eventually did not speak for the last ten years of his life. He deteriorated slowly and was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. This was after he had been through electroconvulsive therapy and the family had been told that he was depressed. From what I remember, the actual final diagnosis was Alzheimer's-related symptoms. My mother read me some of the literature we were given, and I remember taking special note of the part that said that depression could induce such symptoms.
My therapist said that she thinks I have a mood disorder and that I need to find the right medication--possibly Lithium. I have a lot of thoughts about this which are hard to understand. I want to explore them, but it is hard. Write this minute I feel pretty normal and thoughtful. During the last week I have had a lot of changes in mood. Even during one day I seem to switch moods several times. When I feel very good, I go outside and run around, play with the dog, turn the radio up loud, try new craft ideas, tell dumb jokes, laugh at things no one understands, and do homework or other projects with attention that seems unending and a lot of perfectionism. When I feel normal, I write letters, play the keyboard, clean the house, hum songs, cook meals, etc. When I feel bad, I eat a lot, I cry, stutter, feel really weak, sleep a lot, feel like everyone is mad at me, get scared of losing my friends, and want someone to stick around all the time, even if I don't want to talk. When I feel really, really bad, I don't eat, sleep a lot, don't go anywhere, and want everyone to go away.
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