"Reading" Music

Today has been a bit of a reprieve. That might be because I slept in an extra half hour (3:30pm, woohoo?), or because I've been distracted by other mental stimulation such as TEDtalks, the Sword and Scale podcast, and playing Overwatch and GTA5 with a group of rowdy teenage boys. Another thing that has helped today and that seems to be the only thing that marginally helps on the worst days is MUSIC!

I've had a long history with music; piano lessons from 5 to 17 years old, playing viola from 6th grade through most of my years at college, playing in pit orchestra for multiple school plays, I even took viola lessons for a few years (including some from a protege of Dr. Dalton - the student of William Primrose). Mostly with her though, we focused on note basics because, from my audition, she couldn't tell I had the major detriment of not being able to read music.

...yeah.

I managed to get by. With piano, my teacher would play the piece for me, and I would just "pick it up." I was always able to memorize it after awhile.

Transitioning to viola was easier on me than most, because it has it's own clef, and that shifts the notes a bit to fit into the instrument's range:

vs

Because I didn't know the names of any notes in any clef, there was virtually no transition. In fact, I can still only identify C (3rd finger on the G string), and A (open A string) without cheating. With orchestral music, you basically have to look at the music. On viola, you play the open string and then put 1 finger down to raise the note. Then a second to raise the note again, and a third finger. Eventually, in higher levels of play, you learn to use a fourth finger instead of an open string, but we'll keep it simple. Viola music was easier for me to play because the notes on lines are all either 1st finger or 3rd finger. The notes on spaces are played as either open strings/4th finger or 2nd finger. This helped me to know which string I wanted to be on and approximately what the following note would be.

At this point, hearing the piece is still vital for me to play it. Upon hearing it, I'm able to assign a section of what I hear with a specific bar or line of music. It "fits". I now understand the part and, granted I'm skilled enough, I can play it! Again, this method depends entirely on actually hearing the music. It's a BIG detriment to not understand music when it's first put in front of you.

As real musicians know, there is so much more to actually reading (and playing) music! But...

I know what a time signature is.

I know what a key signature is

I know what a tempo is. 

I know what quarter notes, half notes, whole notes, whole rests, half rests. etc are.

I know about slurs, ties, crescendos, fermata, accidentals, etc

The disconnect is with the math. Let's say everything is quarter notes in a 4/4 time signature at an andante pace, I could probably play that without hearing it. But nothing is like that! First of all, not all time signatures are 4/4. What does 4/8 even mean? 6/8? How does that effect the notes? Eighth note followed by quarter rest? What?! Like, I just don't really get how much value practically any notation has in any time signature, including 4/4. It is just garbage! None of it makes any sense! I absolutely can't estimate how long to hold what in any time signature! I cannot wrap my head around that stuff.

That's why I haven't tried out for an adult orchestra. I need to sightread some things. I need to know some music that would be hard to find a recording for (let alone pick out and perfect the viola part). It's just not something I'm able to do.

Suicide

This is all I ever think about. I don't even know where to start. Lately I think of what I'll wear in my casket. So vain. I wonder if I'll overdose on barbiturates or make a car T-bone me so I get shearing injuries and bleed to death. I think of shooting myself in the head. I worry excessively that one of these methods will go wrong and I'll be crippled. I worry what would await in the afterlife. I've decided I'd write notes to a lot of people. Not vitriolic ones (stay classy!), but there are so many people who meant something to me, or who impacted my life in small ways that I still remember! You'll be dead, it's your last chance to say everything you've been afraid to! Why limit yourself to just one measly note?

I don't worry much about people I'll leave behind. Most of them, anyway. I know people will move on with time. And perhaps they'll even realize how much I was suffering, and forgive my actions.

I fantasize all day, EVERY day about these things. The fear of messing up keeps me from trying anything. Some NDE's suggest that suicides have to re-live their full life with all the same trials. I do NOT want to do that! Also, I'd feel bad for making other people feel bad. So, there are good reasons not to take action, but it's hard to live with these thoughts everyday. I realize that, what I seek from death is relief - and that's not even a guarantee!!

But man, I'm tired of trying.

Goodbye Antipsychotics

Latuda was the first antipsychotic I've ever tried. For the most part, I really enjoyed how I felt! I was in a decent mood most of the time, and I had focus and control of my thoughts that I didn't even know was possible! However, there were problems. Daily, in the evenings for the short time between coming home and falling asleep, I'd feel unbearably suicidal. It was making sexual things more difficult. It was inconvenient to take because it had to be eaten with 350 calories. I'd sleep a lot, and I was tired all the time. It wasn't cheap at $60/mo with insurance. And, eventually, I'll no longer have that, making the medicine $1,000+ a month.

For these reasons, I decided to go off of it. I didn't want to get used to a life/personality/mood/goals that couldn't be maintained anyway.

It's actually been extremely difficult since going off. I tried Zoloft again. Now I'm trying Bupropion again. Nothing is really helping. I feel so...down. All the time. I feel awful. My limbs are so heavy. It's hard to move. Literally keeping my head up takes effort. Showering is an event. I just don't have the energy to do anything anymore.

Thinking has changed in so many ways. I "chew" on painful memories again. Instead of the short, daily bouts of absolute agony, I feel moderately suicidal all day. I think of ending my life all day. It's never quite in the back of my mind, like on Latuda. It's been really hard to keep going. There is nothing I look forward to experiencing in this life.

Work is suffering. I can't sleep. I have no goals for my future. I'm hopeless. I don't care about anything. I've just been having a very hard time.

Here I am

Well, I failed out of school again.

This doesn't mean I can never go back. It doesn't mean I can't go somewhere else. It just means I probably can't go back to my current university. At least for now.

The thing is, I don't think I should go back. I don't think I'm capable of pushing myself through a number of math classes, in addition to everything else. I'm too depressed. On the other hand, I keep thinking "you're gonna let a few math classes get in the way of your dreams?"

I don't even know what my dreams are anymore. Being a therapist sounds nice, but what if it's too much socially? What about all the money it will cost to do everything? What about that horrific math? What about graduate school? What if it's like most every other job I've had and it's too stressful? I just don't know if going to college was ever a good idea.

But now that I'm not in it, I feel so worthless. I don't know what to do. I'm scared we'll not have enough money. I'm scared about making my loan payments. A degree would've offered security for me. Maybe. What job would I have gotten? What degree, even? I don't know. I didn't know. And I've spent about $30,000 getting nowhere.

Maybe this was for the best. I just don't know what to do now.

Know Thyself

I've had a difficult year. I feel like every year is difficult. It seems like I find the perfect combination of medications, and then they just stop working as well. Or, more commonly, I try something new and my IBS-C gets exacerbated or I develop sexual side effects. Always. Antidepressants are not friends.

The worst part of the medication-Russian-roulette is that I think I'm better. I always think I'm so close to normal or free. I feel like I can be myself. But, honestly, I don't even know what that is anymore. I don't really know what is delusion or depression. I don't know what is my feelings or just whatever the pills decide.

I hate thinking about things I've done under different medicines. I hate that I always claim I'm better and everyone gets so excited for me, and then mere months later, I'm in the hospital for being suicidal. Everyone is on the roller coaster with me - anyone who decides to stay on, anyway.

I know two things about me  - I have a lot of love to give and I'm passionate about social causes/reform, and I am infatuated with death investigation.

That's about it, I've realized. Everything else seems fluid. My feelings aren't the same from one hour to the next. My thoughts are under constant attack from negativity and suicidality. I have to be dilligent to keep from ruining my own day with terror-filled thoughts of the future/failure or self-defeating thoughts of my minor, day-to-day shortcomings.

It's a lot of work to try to be this bland, mildly depressed, shy person. My only other option seems to be a hot mess. But, with all of this, with all of this medication, hospitalization, and therapy, I just want to be free to be myself - whatever that is. I don't want to be afraid of any one person or social situation. I don't want to be miserable. I don't want to be afraid or shy. I just feel like I have so much love to give. Like, to a socially-awkward degree. I feel like I'm this brilliant, burning star sealed beneath a self-created tomb of pure, unadulterated fear of nothing.

Stability would be nice. New Years is coming, and it's a wonderful opportunity for renewal. It's quickly becoming my favorite holiday (as all the others seem to have become a mess after marriage). Maybe I can make a goal to figure out who/what I am besides a lover of all things death and just a plain 'ol lover anyway. A secret plain 'ol lover. I want that to come through more, too.

Still Happy

It seems like my blog has become a mental health blog. But it is what's in my brain, so...

I just wanted to note how happy I am right now.

Just because I'm better-medicated, doesn't mean I'm always happy. I still experience emotions, just not as deeply or as often. They also don't shift so much so quickly. I'm stable, you know? In fact, yesterday, I was very sad and very hopeless. I was dreading my future all day. It wasn't a good day, but I didn't get suicidal. Okay, I may have thought of it as an option, but it was a fleeting thought.

Anyway, that's over now. I'm pretty happy today. And I'm so thankful. I'm even thinking of getting a job soon. My sleep schedule is SO off, and I get so tired sometimes, but otherwise I feel so great! I feel prepared to try again.

I don't feel alone, despite having a more serious diagnosis now. I feel free. I feel like I'm more boring, but also less crazy. I can be me, right? I don't know. I'm just happy!! I feel GOOD!!! Thanks!

I can breathe

It's hard to describe how things have changed since the antipsychotic.

I didn't realize how dissociated I was. I watched as my life happened, but I wasn't in any sort of control. I didn't realize how powerless I was over my mind. I thought feeling things everyday as if they happened yesterday was normal. For instance, I still lived in 2012. It was impossible for me to not drag up Stephen's infidelity and "chew" on it all day every day. Just let it gnaw at me. The feelings of inadequacy, worthlessness, and deep, unrelenting sadness took over, and I would be miserable (Keeping in mind, we were only dating at the time, and he's a much different, better person now). It was so masochistic. So disproportionate. It wasn't even a choice. Of course I'd want freedom. I wanted to forget, but couldn't. Now, when it ever does come to mind, I have a choice to not think more of it. The raw, searing pain is gone, and it's just something that happened years ago. It's in the past - where it belongs. It really is just a thought, and not something I've unintentionally breathed life into to torment me for the rest of the day. I have control. I have power. I have peace. Finally. And that's just the most prominent example! I don't think of slights or negative interpretations of things people have said or done. I don't cycle the "whys" and "what ifs" behind them. I can let things go! I'm free!

My marriage, obviously, is happier. I don't get annoyed at nothing anymore. My choices no longer feel like they have life and death consequences. It's okay to not have things "just so". People are more tolerable. My life is in my hands (for the most part). It's a whole new world at my fingertips! I can think, I can feel, and I can react on my own terms.

For the most part.

There has to be a catch, and my (very affordable) price to pay is a dulled imagination. Things have less color in my mind. It doesn't feel as realistic. Sleep is not as deep. I don't have to sleep as much (a good thing)! In fact, I feel restless often. It's hard to go to sleep at night. My legs are antsy. I get bored SO easily. My body also has a couple of issues typical for medicine that makes you feel better, but it's worth it.

I'm so happy. I'm SO happy my psychiatrist thought of this treatment and diagnosis. I'm learning so much, and I feel so much better. I don't really get too depressed at all, you know? It's amazing! I feel amazing! I just wish I'd found this sooner. Thank you. It's a miracle!!!