Unfortunately, the daily reporting didn't work out as planned. Between IOP, meetings, getting my brain magnetized, and placating my parents, getting to the computer hasn't been as easy as I'd like.

So far, so good. It's only the end of the first week and I feel lighter, if that makes any sense. I have to admit, it's a bit of a painful process, but it's manageable. Honestly, this painful head pecking is the best part of my day--it's all downhill from there. I have to find a way to post a picture of the crazy machine they use--it's called Neurostar Technology. The doctor I found was one of the first in Chicago to perform this type of treatment (which IS FDA APPROVED, by the way.) He's a sweet man, especially in comparison to how some psychiatrists can be. Since it's the end of week one, they had me fill out the Beck Depression Inventory again. Some of my symptoms (hopelessness, guilt, worthlessness) are still pretty severe. Others, however, (eating and sleeping hygiene, irritability) have gone down a bit. I don't want to die, I don't want to cut, and I don't want to injure anyone else. I just want to get better. I think that's why I can tolerate the noise and head pecking. There are two types of pain in the world: healing pain--the kind of pain that makes you stronger, and harming pain. This one is the former, and it's slowly starting to clear my dusty, mixed-up thoughts. I just hope that by the end of all this that I'm in the 60% that get better. More on Monday.

Alright, here's the deal. The depression portion of my Bipolar Disorder basically had a ceiling but no floor. I'm not manic anymore but I can still plummet into an incapacitating depression. It's been medication-resistant for some time now, so I've been exploring other forms of treatment. I seriously considered ECT, but I'm not a good candidate because I have a history of seizures. Then, my dad and I stumbled on TMS. Essentially, TMS uses magnets to stimulate the nerves in the brain that are responsible for emotional regulation. You sit in what looks like a dentist chair, and they have to strap your head down. The first session lasts a couple hours so as to figure out a patient's motor threshold. The doctor would send one or two taps through my brain, and the goal was to get my thumb to twitch, and only my thumb. I held up my hand as if I were a hitchhiker for about 30 minutes. They were finally able to isolate the movement to just my index finger and thumb. Dr. W. told me that if my hand starts shaking during the session to call for him. (There was a nurse practitioner in the room the entire time.) Each treatment session lasts 38 minutes, and it sounds and feels as if there is a woodpecker attacking my head. It'll be a few seconds on and a few seconds off for the entire 38 minutes. The only truly annoying side effect is a headache, which I can live with. The other, less annoying side effect is that it could send me into mania. Frankly, I wouldn't mind being manic for awhile. It would be a welcome change of pace. This magnet treatment five days a week for six weeks. So far, the results have been pretty good in other patients. I'm 31 years old--I don't think I can make it another 31 years living like this. This HAS to work!

The biggest bitch of it all: My insurance (which is quite good) will cover this for Major Depressive Disorder but not Bipolar Depression. What the hell is this sh*t? Unbelievable. I'll do my best to post an update after every session. It's going to be a very, very interesting six weeks.

A Haiku:

Dearest Broken Foot
How You Pain Me Day And Night
I F***ikng Hate You

The End

I'm serious. I feel like the mood-stabilizers make me gain weight, the adderral makes me lose weight, the kratom makes me crave chocolate, the the pack of cigarettes I smoke each day makes me crave nothing at all--except someone to smoke them with. I have so much to say, but I picked the worst time to blog because my mom and I are watching the original version of the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. We rarely get a night away from my dad, so I have to continue this tomorrow. Dammit. I wish I spoke Swedish.

I've done a LOT of really, really stupid things in my life. Of ridiculous proportions. (For example: I used to smoke crack, get paranoid, and then hide all my crap from myself in a fit of paranoia. As a result, my 70-year-old father was finding crack pipes in his golf shoes.) What I did last week is a close second. I've been drug and alcohol-free for almost six months now, but unfortunately am physically dependent on this kratom #######4. I hate it. If I had known this was a potential outcome I would never have touched it in the first place. Anyway, my psychiatrist, my therapist, my parents and I have all been working on how the hell to quit it because no one knows anything about it. There really isn't a whole lot of research out there and I have to tread carefully because of the seizure condition. Long story short, my mom gives me what I need every week so that I don't get sick, and that's pretty much it. They don't trust me, and I don't blame them. I wouldn't trust me either. I haven't told the boyfriend that I still take it because a) he wouldn't understand b) he would jump to conclusions that aren't true and c) I'm really ashamed of it. I figured it would be better if I just quit it as quickly as possible and no one would get hurt. My mom came to pick me up on Tuesday for my monthly appointment with the psychiatrist and I sent her a text asking her to bring an extra dose, which she does from time to time. Wait, no I didn't. I sent that text to the boyfriend by mistake. In response I got exactly what I expected, which was the horrible temper, untrue accusations, and a whole lot of other things that just crushed me to hear. I'm dying inside without him. This is not helping the overwhelming and unbearable depression that's been destroying me the past month or so. I had to move all of his stuff to my storage unit in my apartment building because being constantly reminded of him was too much to handle. Your home is supposed to be the one place in the world you feel safe--seeing him everywhere was torture. The worst is that he hasn't said one word to me since Tuesday. Not a one. What the hell is that? Are we supposed to sit in limbo forever? I haven't loved someone in years. I'm the one that screwed this up and I've done the necessary acts of contrition. What hurts the most is that he's going to act like I'm the monster and he's the innocent victim. Excuse me, but he's the one that left me on my living room floor drunk and bleeding after I had cut up my arm really badly after the incident in June. I wouldn't abandon ANYONE in that condition, let alone someone I loved. Maybe we're just both too damaged to be in any relationship at all, let alone with one another. All I know is, I haven't had this kind of pain in a long time and I don't know how much more loneliness I can take. I'm making better choices these days, but emotions can override cognition. Easily.