Thursday, August 29, 2013

Writing frankly about depression...

I recognize the patterns of my "illness" more than I have in the past nowadays.  I just get so damn frustrated because I cannot tell what is happening organically and what are just byproducts of all these damn pills.  I had to get off one that was giving me panic attacks, but in order to do this, I had to increase my dosage on a different pill because the withdrawal symptoms were just terrible.  I've been working with doctors and have been doing everything with their supervision.  Mostly because the very last place I ever want to go is that damn hospital.  Those hospitals CAUSE PTSD!!  I am now working with my doctor to slowly taper off my bloody seroquel and it's brutal.  I've never abused street drugs but I imagine coming off of some of those things is what getting off some of these psychiatric drugs might be like.  Simultaneously, I am also trying to kick Ativan but I can't seem to go three days without popping one before bed.  Ugh.  One acquaintance even told me her old roommate had to go to rehab to get off prescribed medications.  It's ALL SO DAMN DEPRESSING!

Without even opening up about my personal experiences, my new coworkers are all taking assorted psychiatric drugs and have had all sorts of troubles and hospitalizations as well!  WHY AREN'T MORE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS STUFF?!?!

Ugh, I get so frustrated.  Part of me wants to jump in and help....volunteer...speak about my experiences...ANYTHING.  But the other part of me still can't figure out just what is RIGHT in this big mess that is the mental health field.  Do I believe in the pills?  Not at the moment.  Do I believe in psychotherapy?  Yes, to a certain extent.  But I think one needs to take a breather from it, too, at times.  I seem to have the same talk over and over again lately...to try for another pregnancy or not?  It's heavy heavy HEAVY in my heart, mind, body and soul.  I guess a 37th birthday can do that to a woman. Men are lucky that way....they can just go out and find a younger woman...

BLAH.  Anyway....

My sleep is not good.  I have crazy dreams that make me feel panicked while I'm asleep.  One is a recurring theme that I can't keep my college class schedule straight and I keep walking into the wrong lecture hall at the wrong time.  The other is a second job that I keep forgetting to go to.  Sometimes they get crazy and more crazy.  So trippy I can't even remember.  I vaguely remember one about not having a valid passport to leave the country and some office assistant was trying to expedite it for me.  I woke up thinking, "OH MY GOD!  I REALLY DO NEED TO GET A NEW PASSPORT!" and even took the next step to see what I had to do to go about getting a new one.  But I put it on the back burner because I don't have any friggin' vacation days to use and it will be a long time before I do again.

Sigh.  Those moments when REALITY stunts one's creative ability to escape through writing, painting and crafts are among the most sensitive.  When one's 'fuel' overcomes him or her...that's when it's most difficult.

Life is hard.  That's about all I have to say right about now.

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