Morbid thoughts and no sleep

It is 1:53 in the morning and I can't sleep. This has been coming for days. For the past two days I have been taking Tom's head off at the slightest provocation. I hate being back at work and despite all my efforts at meeting with the BM it appears I will be in this position for the time being. This thought makes my head swim. I feel drawn taut over something deep and dark. It feels like any minute it will swallow me whole.

When I've reached my stress limit there are typically two things that happen: 1) Can't sleep 2) Vomit. Both happened tonight. When I finally did lay down death scenes from movies kept replaying in my head. I can't seem to stop it so my only choice is to get up.

Oddly, there is something comforting about this morbidity. Although I have never been 'suicidal' I do spend quite a lot of time pondering death. More than I would ever let on to ordinarily. It is a familiar track, a groove in the road laid down in childhood. I can usually keep it inside but if I have learned anything over the past few weeks it is that not sharing these thoughts can have deadly consequences. The summer after I turned 10 was the first time my mother ever saw it. We were in Germany and I simply could not stop crying. I love Germany, always have but for some reason I wanted to go home. It seems that the minute the plane landed I couldn't stop obsessing about death. My death, her death, every one's death. My mother swore it had something to do with the eruption of Mt. St. Helens just a few weeks before. The usually pleasant and mild German weather during summer gave way to overcast skies, rain and unending heat. I am more likely to be manic than depressed in spring and summer so maybe she is right. I don't know. I just know it is the first time I exhibited major outward signs of being depressed and talking about death.

When I was 8 my mother went away to Germany over the summer by herself. I was left alone with my father. Although it was years later before I understood what had actually transpired, he had introduced me to one of his girlfriends. Brought her around the house. She gave me a bracelet. I just thought she was a friend of his from work. The other thing that stands out is the number of times he beat me. There was no mom to throw herself in between he and I. I have never felt more defenceless or unloved in my whole life.

This is what perplexes me. That horrible summer in Germany I desperately wanted to get home. I knew exactly what would be waiting for me if I did go home and still, at the time, it seemed preferable to me than Germany. I think that is so odd.

The year after that summer, once the school year had ended was when my parents packed me up and sent me to live at a children's home. The year after that, during the summer is when I was raped.

Horrific, tumultuous events have happened during the spring and summer. I just spent the last 4 weeks feeling happier than I have in years. As we move into late spring I am sure that there is something in my brain screaming out warning signs.

My spring and summer manics have had awful consequences. I have put myself in life threatening situations because whatever I was doing seemed well within my control. The depression after this type of manic is always very low.

Do you see a pattern? I think there must be one but I can't see it yet.

I love my husband. I love my dog. I love my niece. I love my parents. I love Tom's family. They all love me right back. And still this black, bleak chasym seems to yawn beneath me. This is one of those times that the effort, the struggle I perceive, doesn't seem worth very much to me.

If I am to be completely honest with myself there is something about death that is appealing to me, comforting even. I don't believe that I really want to be dead, it's just that I am so very unhappy. I am so unhappy and it hit so fast. To be dead would be such a quick way to not be unhappy. This is why anyone commits suicide. It is easier than facing life's realities.

I am not contemplating suicide. Well, I guess I am contemplating it but not in the 'I have a plan' sort of way. If I talk about it I know it won't happen. I have been steeling myself for a manic episode. This really blind sided me. I think I need to call my doctor on Monday and let her know the meds aren't quite doing their job. I need to rethink things. I just feel so trapped, there doesn't seem to be a way out.

This is so politically incorrect but I really think I would be happy if things were simpler for me. I enjoyed working around the house, cooking healthy dinners, domestic stuff. I liked it. I really, really liked it. I don't think I've ever been calmer or at peace with myself and the world. I wish I could alter my life to accomodate this peace and happiness. I think that when I got married this is sort of what I envisioned for myself. Then Tom got sick and now it is an impossibility.

Well, I think that this was a much needed check in. I am going to try to sneak in a couple of hours of sleep before I have to get up and get ready for work.