Monthly Archives: January 2015

Recharge time

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Sometimes, listening to sad songs all day and reflecting is how I get through the day. I have pretty much avoided the world for the last week. Recharge time. Little to no human contact. I need space. I see clients, train dogs, and take care of business. I answer and return phone calls and emails, train, and do the minimum I need to do to heal. I need to recharge. I’m working hard, but not over extending. I’m not social this week. And I’m ok with that. I need a break from the world for a bit to heal. It’s too hard sometimes.

I’m avoiding some big decisions because I can’t trust myself to not be impulsive. Impulsive spending, reckless behavior, no consequences thinking. That’s what happens when I am manic.

When I’m depressed, I ignore big decisions. Seems either way, I’m avoiding decisions. One way, I get a super cool opportunity and maybe overwhelm myself. The other way, I miss out because I’m a responsible person.

My thought patterns seems incomplete. Scattered, too fast. I can’t keep up. But then I can’t complete a thought, so how fast is that? Or is it slow? I’m done thinking. Clearly, I’m not making sense.

Still rapid cycling, but it’s not as severe now. My heart still hurts. I’m seeing the demons at night again, and I’m trying as hard as I can to not shut down. Just give me a break.

How bad is it. Depression 4. Anxiety 3. Today was the first day both numbers were below a 5. It was a better day. No panic attacks. No panicking in general. I’m going to be ok. I don’t think there is a word for my mood today. Carefree, peaceful, nonchalant…

Rapid Cycling

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We all make mistakes. We all sometimes feel stupid. We all sometimes keep doing things we know we shouldn’t. And eventually, it comes crashing down. Occasionally, this crash is life altering. We feel like we will never be the same. For me, this is a trigger. It triggers rapid cycling.

Rapid Cycling

Rapid cycling. What is this? Well, in my own terms, rapid cycling means I am swinging from one mood to the next with little to no warning. Manic hyperactivity, lack of impulse control, crazy happy, I can CLEAN THE WORLD attitude. That’s the fun part. Rapid cycling also includes incredible lows. This means lack of self worth, suicidal thoughts, depression, anxiety, panic attacks. Let’s not forget the toll this takes on the body. The physical pain of being up and down so often. I get horrible stomach cramps, knots, I sometimes vomit, sore or tight muscles, irritability, and fatigue.

I’m experiencing all that pain now. Sore neck, sore back, tight shoulders, cramps, irritability, fatigue, knots from anxiety, can’t focus… I’m trying to just concentrate and get through it. But this part sucks.

Whenever I go through a trauma, immense stress, or a big decision, it triggers a cycle. I know I have one coming on when I can’t sleep very well, or when I have knots in my stomach. It also seems like my triggers come all at once. Not just one big event, but multiple.

I like to think I can handle it all the time. I like to think I’m a badass and I don’t need help. I don’t need people, I don’t need to be taken care of. I don’t need support or friends. I’m hardcore and can handle anything by myself.

I’m lying to myself. I do need help sometimes. I need support. When I’m in my ‘downs’ I want to disappear from the world. I want to hide and just wait it out. I also have to admit I enjoy the support. I appreciate it, and really feel loved. I feel guilty a lot when someone supports me, or when someone takes care of me. I should be able to do it by myself. Right? I don’t ever want to be co-dependent. I want to live my life without relying on other people to take care of me. I can do this. Even when I’m in my worst down peaks.. I can do it. I just have to wait it out. Waiting feels like forever. It’s exhausting. And yet… having to wait it out with someone who wants to be there for you makes it so much less daunting.

emotional roller coasterRight now, I’m ‘level’. In between a cycle. I had one of the most severe downs I have ever had… and I’m proud of myself. Yes, I had quite a few thoughts of suicide, but then I immediately thought “ok, stop. Go do something”. Almost a day after that cycle, started the rapid cycling of manic and severe anxiety/panic. After that… it’s always either full blown manic, or deep depression. I hate this part. I just wait for it…because it’s happening. And there isn’t anything I can do about it. Sometimes, my manic cycles are so much worse than my depression. But other times, the depression is suffocating. It’s like I’m getting on a roller coaster, and it’s different every time.

Welcome to the Heather Train.

Mamma

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I have some catching up to do. I’m going to backdate this post a bit.

I adopted a dog from a rescue. She was a “hospice foster”. I knew that when I got her. Her name was Esther. She was around 8 years old, a beautiful, gentle pitbull. She was underweight, had poor structure, had a mammary gland tumor, and really bad teeth. She had clearly been used for quite a bit of breeding. I didn’t like this name for her. Esther just didn’t fit her beautiful personality. I renamed her Mamma.

project_k9_rescue_pittie_mamma_pet_lossThis girl came into my life around the end of September last year. She was a sort of impulse decision. Her rescue posted online she only had a few hours to live unless she was pulled. They claimed no behavioral issues, she was solid around people and other dogs as well as cats. Basically, she just had medical issues.

I thought, I have the finances, the resources, and the space. I can help her. So, I pulled her in hopes of fostering her until I found her a forever home. After just a couple days, I realized how hard she was going to be to place. She did have quite a lot of medical problems and she deserved to just retire. So, I decided to keep her. Make her a permanent member of my pack, and have her retire with me.

She had a skin issue, making her super itchy, so when you pet/scratched her, she actually twerked to get more aggressive scratching on her backside. She would wag her tail happily and rub her back all over your fingers. She would look at you with those big brown eyes and you just had to smile.

project_k9_mamma_pet_loss_pitbullsShe played tug, but was too old to have any force behind it. We took her to the park last week, and she played tug and was acting like she was a puppy. She enjoyed herself so much, and you could see her eyes light up when we got there. We got home, and she crashed. She was so tired from all the excitement.

The next morning is when the problems started. She couldn’t get up to go potty, and I had to carry her up the stairs. She had a seizure that morning. Throughout the week, she continued to have seizures, and couldn’t stand all the way to potty. She started to fall, or rest her knees on the ground to squat. She couldn’t do the stairs, and she stopped eating. I decided instead of pumping her full of meds, knowing full well she wasn’t going to get any better, I made the decision. I knew this time was coming, but I didn’t realize it was going to be so soon.

project_k9_park_day_mamma_pet_lossThe whole week, she got to spend time on the furniture, sleep in my bed, eat a cheeseburger, and go on a walk alone with me. Just me and her. She got playtime just with me. And the morning of her appointment, I let her shred her tug rope. I normally don’t allow any of those things. I wasn’t a trainer that day. I was a dog mom who was losing one of her ‘kids’. But I had to keep it together for her. I had to be strong. I couldn’t show her I was weak. Even though my heart was breaking, all she saw was my smiling face, and positive energy. I battled it all morning.

The vet gives her the pink juice… she’s gone before they even finish the injection. She was ready. I ordered a paw print for her. I hope now she doesn’t feel any pain.

I feel sad and heartbroken, but also relieved and happy. I was able to spend the last few months showing her what it’s like to be loved and cared for, and to be part of a family. The love of a rescued elderly dog is very much a different story.

I’m sad I had to say goodbye, but I’m glad she was with me for the final days of her life. Everyone who met her loved her. She loved people. I’m happy I didn’t adopt her out and the new family had to make this decision a few months after falling in love with her like I did.

Goodbye, Mamma. I love you always. Rest in peace now girl, the pain is gone.

project_k9_rescue_pitties_mamma_loss

My Heart Bleeds

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I’m down already. Stop kicking me. My spirit is already broken. Stop. Just stop. I am not the rock I usually am. I am broken. There are cracks and I’m crumbling.

Stop. My heart bleeds. It hurts. Physical pain always accompanies severe depression. I hurt everywhere. Every muscle in my back, my shoulders, my neck… my heart. Everything hurts.
Let me stand up before you beat me down once more.

Stop. Just long enough for me to put myself back together again. Let me sew up the wounds before you pour the salt on again. Let the wound scab so you can peel it off and make a bigger scar. A scar that no one will see. It rips through my whole body. I won’t be the same after I heal. There will always be a chasm. There will always be the scar of this loss.

I can’t cry anymore. The tears won’t come. Whether I’m dehydrated or if I just don’t have the will anymore, I can’t cry. My tear streaked face and my crushed heart. This is me. In all my entirety. Insecure. Vulnerable.

A thousand stab wounds to the chest would hurt less than this. Physical pain is a tiny relief to the mental pain I feel now. All the strong emotions I sometimes think I have are gone. I’m exposed. Unprotected. Totally unshielded.

I want it to end. I want to cease to exist. I want to disappear. Make it stop. Make these feelings stop. It hurts so much. And I have to do this alone. No one can take this pain from me. I have to face this alone. I can have support. But this is on me. It’s agony to be alive. I deserve this feeling. This feeling of wanting to die. I want to die.

Take the pain. Kill me.

Drowning with Demons

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heather_hamilton_bipolar_depression_suicideIt’s a web of feelings you can’t understand unless you have gone through a period where you felt the feeling of complete sadness, despair and loneliness. Sometimes, this onsets for no reason at all. Other times, it’s because of a trauma, an event, or stress. It feels like dying is less painful than being alive. You wish for death to end the suffering. To end the pain. To stop feeling so damn awful.

Physical pain sometimes accompanies the mental anguish. But the physical side is nothing compared to what this level of depression feels like. Pain feels good. This hurts worse than any cut, bruise, bite, or broken bone. It’s like your heart is dead. To feel any physical pain is relieving. For just a moment, you don’t have to feel the inside pain.

Crying is a sign there is still hope to climb out of this hell hole. Crying means you’re still in there … somewhere. I’ve been crying. That means I’m healing. It’s an outlet. Crying is an outlet of all the energy my body can’t handle anymore. Panic stricken attacks, hyperventilation and crying release some of the tension inside my body. And I feel a little better.

depression_drowning_bipolar_suicideScreams rip through my body while I writhe around, hoping all the pain and hurt I feel will disappear. So much hurt, so much pain. Letting it out is sometimes the hardest thing you can do, but letting it go eventually will feel better.

Sleep comes and will overtake your sore and exhausted body. I dread sleep when I am in these state of minds. Dreams invade my sleep, and usually they aren’t good. I tried turning off the dreams using drugs before, but then I just dealt with the demons. Since I don’t take the drugs anymore, I don’t see the demons… most of the time. When I am in a deep depression, I do see them. I hear them. They talk about me. They torture me. If I don’t move, if I stay still, they don’t bother me. If I get up, adjust my body position, breathe too loud, or talk to them, they assault me with their whispers.

It feels like this will never end. But it’s happened before, I know I’ll get over it. Logically, I know. But inside, I never know how much I can take. I’m drowning again.