It bothers me periodically that I’ve lost interest in my hobbies. I used to enjoy going to the library, but I don’t read anymore. I try every once in a while to draw something or start an embroidery project, but I usually just end up staring at the materials for a while and then giving up. Art has always been something I do sporadically. I have periods of inspiration and periods in which I set it aside, but I always cycle back through. Not lately. I feel like I’ve lost all motivation to create anything – even in writing. My drive to write on my blog has been exceptionally low, even though I maintain a desire to keep up with it. It’s a frustrating space to be in.

Part of my problem with visual art is that I get too caught up in making it match my mental image. It leads me to give up or not start at all. It occurred to me that it might be easier to get started if I tried to make something after taking a ketamine troche. I have tried writing while dissociating on ketamine, but something about articulating my thoughts in full sentences proves to be very difficult, and I usually abandon it.

Turns out, painting is entirely different. I sketched out a landscape based on a photo and pulled out my watercolors before taking a troche.

I found the process of putting colors on the paper to be engrossing, and I think that since I was curious to see how it turned out, I wasn’t so worried about it looking “bad.”

By the time the ketamine had worn off, I had made it to this point:

It was unfinished, so the next day, I went back to it with all of my faculties and spruced it up. I still don’t love how it turned out, but I can label it a ketamine experiment and be content with that.

Other hobbies I’m attempting to resume include running, drawing, and volunteering. Each of them is in the tiny beginning stages, but I have to start somewhere.

My experiences with ketamine troches have been varied. Sometimes it hits me, and I decide that being horizontal is better than attempting to sit up, so I get in bed. I’ve definitely noticed that remaining still makes me less likely to get nauseated, but it also makes it harder to perceive the dissociative effects of ketamine. I frequently think that I’m past the dissociation and get up, intending to go walk the dog or clean the kitchen, only to realize upon standing that I most definitely am not ready to practice such advanced life skills.

Then again, sometimes it seems like nothing happens when I take a troche. This is somewhat disappointing, given how much mental preparation goes into overcoming the revolting medicinal flavor. I could just swallow the troche without letting it dissolve, except the edges of it are sharp. Believe me – I’ve tried. It’s painful. The best way I’ve found to take ketamine troches is to sip lukewarm tea while it’s dissolving in my mouth. It helps with the flavor, and the liquid speeds up the dissolving process.

My first few troches were more intense than subsequent ones, and overall, I’ve found that they produce much less absurdity in my mental images than ketamine infusions did. Troches tend to lead me down memory lane or explorations of personal questions rather than bizarre, imaginative storylines.

I think that because taking prescription ketamine at home still seems strange to me, I often ponder the question, “How did I get here?” My experience with mental illness started early, so naturally, my childhood comes to mind when I pose that question to myself. Sometimes, when the ketamine kicks in, I begin to review my life as if I were watching a movie, skipping ahead and replaying certain parts. It either leads to me feeling like perseverance is my path or just feeling utterly lost. When I separate from myself a little, it often just adds to my pre-existing sense of confusion and nonbelonging.

More often than not, I cry when the ketamine kicks in. I don’t know if that’s common or expected, but it’s definitely a pattern for me. And it’s interesting because I don’t cry with much regularity in my everyday life. I’m not sure why dissociating would make me feel my emotions more, but it seems to me like it does.

I do feel a bit better, but I’m not sure whether I should attribute that to being back on lithium, the ketamine, or the new medication I’m taking, Mirapex. Historically, lithium has been very helpful in tamping down my suicidal thoughts and allowing me to be more functional. It doesn’t usually do much about the anhedonia, which leaves me feeling the need to accomplish things but not getting much satisfaction from it.

I also started taking Mirapex a few weeks ago. It’s a dopamine agonist used for Parkinson’s disease, restless leg syndrome, and – off-label – depression. I’m in the middle of increasing the dose, and so far, I’m not sure whether it’s helping. It certainly could be part of the combination.