Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

That's right, I'm out of the clink -- er, hospital -- and back home.  I just took a really long, hot shower and thoroughly enjoyed not having to hit the little button every two minutes for the water to stay on.

I have not forgotten my give-away; there's just a little snafu.  Nobody wrote in the comments when you liked BPK on Facebook!  My Facebook "Likes" went up, but since I'm technologically stupid at the moment, I can't figure out who actually hit "Like" in the last week or so.  So I'll figure something else out...maybe give it based on who has commented in the last week?  That may work.

In addition to leaving the hospital today, I actually had my first of six scheduled ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy) treatments this morning.  Let me tell you, it was trippy.  I will write more about that soon, but I have to be truthful -- even I feel like ECT is a sort of taboo topic.  In the meantime, I'll figure out this giveaway issue.  If you really think you'd like to read the book (again, it's Start Something that Matters by Blake Mycoskie, the TOMS guy -- it is pretty inspiring), send me an email or leave a comment and maybe I'll just send it to the first person who asks!

Oh, and p.s. -- my dad is out of the hospital and is doing well.  Obviously, I decided not to go if, instead, I went to the hospital myself for the week, but he's out of the woods and is going to be fine.  I hope to plan a trip to Florida in the not-to-distant future.

Great Expectations, Deflated

Here I am, still in Shawshank. No, no, I kid.

Mostly.

Today I'm mostly upset with the fact that I was supposed to go home, as per my doctor. But the weekend psychiatrist on duty never got around to seeing me and finalizing my paperwork today, even though I have been bugging the nursing staff about it since 9 this morning.

I thought I'd think positively and have my husband and daughters come down around 3, and maybe by the time they got here I'd be ready to go. No such dice. Looks like I'll probably be here till Monday, with my contraband iPod to keep me company.

The most frustrating part is that I actually feel pretty okay; I don't feel the need to be put away for safety reasons. And the staff here does next to nothing on weekends, as far as group therapy and entertainment go, so it's not like I'm getting lots of benefit there.

So, in a nutshell, I feel safe enough to leave, am bored out of my mind, and had to peel a shrieking five-year-old off my leg when she left.

Oh, holy hell...someone just started playing "Kumbaya" on an acoustic guitar and singing. I think I should have kept my mouth about the entertainment. Is 6:30 too early to go to bed?

Coping Mechanisms: Craftherapy

A while ago, I was proud of myself for coming up with a new word, "craftherapy."  Out of curiosity, I did a google search for the word, and it turns out some other people came up with the same word as well, so I'm not as great as I thought I was.  Darn.  Even so, I'm going to write about craftherapy today.

In my last post, I mentioned that my previous attempts to stave off a depressive episode weren't working, and I was doing kinda bad.  Well, the bad continues.  Bad enough that hospitalization has been mentioned, and I SO do not want that, if for no other reason than they won't let me have my iPod or knit (of course, there are lots of other reasons as well, but those are two very concrete ones).

So to avoid possible hospitalization, further self-injury, or any other kinds of serious badness, I'm trying to pull out some coping mechanisms.  And it's not easy.  All I really want to do is lie in bed all day and eat chocolate (and, after Trick-or-Treat, we have a lot of that), so getting up and sitting vertical and doing something is a major effort.  Man, you gotta love depression.

Of course, some of my coping mechanisms are forms of -- here's the word -- craftherapy.  I mentioned before about the entrelac scarf I was working on, and I'm still whittling away at that.  I also finished a zigzag scarf (pattern here) in Red Heart Boutique Swirl in Floral, then finished a pair of basic gauntlets (fingerless gloves) in some bulky rust colored yarn from the book Speed Knitting.

In addition, I ordered this cute little book from Amazon.com called Little Knitted Creatures by Amy Gaines, and started to make a little octopus.  I'm not a huge fan of octopuses (octopi?), but I had purple yarn, so there ya go.

Lastly, for a craftherapy task other than knitting, I bought a book called The Mandala Workbook, which is supposed to guide you through a twelve-stage mandala cycle for healing and growth.  I've started reading it, but haven't actually started any of the mandala exercises yet.

In general, I guess my coping mechanisms are working okay, in the sense that I'm not in the hospital.  I'm kind of funked out right now because I can't find a tapestry needle and I don't have the right sized needles for another project, so I'm sort of at a standstill.  It's irritating when your coping mechanisms piss you off more than your depression.  But I'll just keep plugging along.

For anyone else out there having a bad time of it (I think the change of the seasons is a rough time of year), I hope you're engaging in some coping mechanisms yourself and staving off the really bad stuff.  Feel free to share your tactics for survival.

Antidepressants and anger

About a month or six weeks ago, I had the opportunity to join a DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) session at a nearby hospital.  I went in for the initial assessment, but ultimately decided not to do it.

There were a few reasons why I decided not to participate, not the least of which is that I'm lazy and have commitment issues and couldn't see myself hauling across town every single Tuesday for the next six months.  There was another, more specific reason, though, that doesn't have anything to do with my personal shortcomings.

During the assessment, the therapist was asking about anger, and what happened when I got angry, and how I coped.  One of the most significant and consistent benefits I've noticed about antidepressants and mood stabilizers, essentially since I started taking them almost ten years ago, is that my anger episodes have all but disappeared.  I still get angry, but it's more mild irritation than blinding rage (except when we're talking about the people putting the new roof on my house, but that's another story).

I used to get so mad, it would be hard to see; I'd stammer and get all shaky.  I'd throw things (shoes were my favorite thing to throw, I don't know why) and slam doors.  It was ugly.  And, seriously, when I started on medication, those episodes sort of floated away.

This brings me back to the DBT assessment.  The therapist asked what happened when I got really angry, and I told her I used to have serious anger problems, but since I started antidepressants and mood stabalizers, those episodes went away.  She looked at me in a kind of condescending manner and said, "Well, I can tell you, medication rarely helps manage anger.  But therapy can."  She then moved on to the next part of the interview.

Now, I'm sure she's much more well-versed in all this kind of stuff than I am, but I know for a fact that my anger has lessened a lot since I started my meds. I guess it could be a coincidence, or maybe just mellowing out with age, but it seems awful odd that the two would coincide so completely and not be related. 

That's about the point I lost a lot of confidence in the DBT program.  I got the feeling it was going to be a "meds are bad, therapy is good" kind of situation, which isn't totally a bad thing; but what's more, I got the impression that I was going to be told my perceptions of my situations were "wrong," and that the therapists and facilitators are "right."  And let's be honest; if I wasn't wrong about a lot of my perceptions, I probably wouldn't need DBT.  But I'd like the facilitators to at least listen to me and not dismiss my ideas out of hand because they didn't fit with their notions of therapy or treatment.

In retrospect, maybe I was too quick to judge the situation.  I have learned, however, if I get a certain "vibe" or feeling about something, it's often right -- no matter how quickly I get that feeling. 

I think I made the right decision.

Or maybe I am just really lazy and didn't want to haul all the way across town every week.  Whatever.  At least I'm not going to get mad about it.

The shoe never fits

I had a therapy appointment today, the first one in a long time.  I didn't feel like I really needed it, but the reminder call came too late for me to cancel the appointment (there's a $75 fee for cancelling less than 24 hours in advance).  So I went, and just bailed early by saying I had someplace else to be.

My therapist is a nice guy, but he spent 15 of our 30 minutes together talking about his vacation and his vacation home.  If he was just a friend, fine, but I'm spending like $90 to meet with him, so time is money.  I have decided I'm not going to go back to see him.

The problem is, he's the...let's count...fifth therapist I've seen and dumped.  To be fair, one stopped practicing, but that was after I stopped seeing her regularly.  I really have never found a therapist who I "clicked" with.  Is it me?  A doctor once suggested I had Borderline Personality Disorder, based on my serial doctor-relationship issues.  Maybe she was right.  I just know I've never found a good fit.

Now, much like a perpetual spinster (does anyone actually use that word anymore?), I'm starting to wonder if there really is a therapist out there that's right for me.  Maybe I'll never find my match.  Maybe I'll fumble through life without the all-important therapist-patient relationship, destined to walk the earth with unexplored psychoses.  And, much like the perpetual spinster, I'm ready to give up on therapy altogether, writing it off as a romanticized ideal that never lives up to its promises.

Or maybe all therapy is a bunch of crap, and I'm just coming to this conclusion now. 

Off topic:  I did a Google image search for "pencil and paper," and this terrifying picture came up (it really is terrifying, so if you don't want to see it, don't click).  What the HELL?

A different form of craft therapy

I have decided I am going to create a new word: "craftherapy." There, I did it. M-W.com, suck it.

Anyway, I see knitting as part of therapy, hence the whole name and concept of this blog. But knitting isn't the only form of creative therapy I engage in. In fact, I'm kind of weird, in that when it's hot outside (as it has been this summer), I don't really want to knit. I guess if I moved to Florida I'd never knit. But that won't happen, so whatever.

My point is, there are lots of other ways to be creative and focus on mindfulness and healing at the same time. I found a great book this spring called Art Journals and Creative Healing, which is wonderful for anyone who likes to draw or journal or scrapbook. And, less intense, there is the Zentangle series of books, which the authors call "Yoga for your brain." The Zentangle stuff is kind of like glorified doodling, but, if you're like me, doodling is a great outlet, because you can lose yourself in a drawing, without the added stress of having your drawing look like "something."

I'd love to compile a longer list of books or workbooks that are good for craftherapy (there! I used it in a sentence! It's really a word now!), so look for more suggestions later.

By the way: if you do a Google image search for "crafts," some seriously weird stuff comes up.

To DBT or not DBT? -- that is the question

After Lyddie was born in April, I spent some time in an inpatient program at a facility called the Lindner Center in Mason. It helped me immensely, but the doctor there also suggested that I find a Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) workshop to enroll in.

Per DBTselfhelp.com, DBT is an offshoot of CBT (cognitive behavior therapy) that combines CBT and Eastern philosophy. It is beneficial for people with Borderline Personality Disorder, self-injurers, and the like. I think the philosophy is summed up with the phrase, "You're okay -- now change."

I found a DBT program here in the area, at Good Samaritan Hospital. They had an unexpected opening for the program that starts next week, so I am going to go check it out tomorrow. It's every Tuesday for 25 weeks.

Come on, people, I have bipolar disorder -- I can't commit to anything that long.

We'll see how it goes. I like the idea of the therapy, but right now, I'm kind of soured on therapy all together. I don't think therapy has ever really helped me, long-term. Why should this be any different?