Yesterday has most definetely been the worst day for me this year so far. I was in a state of total despair. The anxiety-level wasn't bearable and I was between losing my mind and being convinced that I was going to die. Honestly, the anxiety was so physical and at the same time it totally blackened my mind. At 3 a.m. I decided to take a Zoplicone just to fall asleep and not feel anymore. I was convinced that I was going to die and I've always wanted to die in my sleep so I just wanted to sleep. My life was flashing before my eyes and I thought, well, at least I have had sex, I have experienced love, I have reached a few goals in my life, I have touched a few people, I have had some fun. I was kind of ready to die. I know, that sounds crazy. But the state I was in was terrible.
I had a bad restlessness in my whole body. I had been crying all day long. I was shaking. I couldn't think straight. It was so bad that I would have done anything to just escape my body and my mind. If I could have I would have crawled out of my skin. I couldn't focus at all. I was totally detached from reality. I found talking really difficult. I just couldn't connect with reality. For a moment I thought I was going to end up in psychosis. I was pacing up and down the hallway. I pulled my hair. I cried and cried and cried. I just wanted it to stop. I have no clue why I didn't think of taking a sedative. It could have helped. I was just not thinking straight. I hate meds and they just never seem like the solution to me.
I blame this all on the withdrawal from the Propavan. I know I know, Propavan is said to give no withdrawal-symptoms. Well, that's utter bull-shit! I have taken that medication since December 2010. Every night. 25 mg. I am really uber-sensitive to medication. So I guess my brain and body got used to the med and now that I only take 12,5 mg I get really bad reactions.
The first few days were really great though. I was happy, content, sometimes even euphoric. I had a lot more energy. It made me think that the reduction of the dosage might have triggered some kind of hyppmania. But then I crashed! For days now I have been really low, more anxious and yesterday was basically the worst day. I actually thought of calling a helpline but they would have probably sent an ambulance. I was in such a bad state I wasn't even coherent in my speech.
I'm still determined to stop taking the Propavan. It can't get much worse than yesterday. I have also written a big fat note to myself: Take sedatives! I haven't taken one in weeks actually. Again, I hate meds. But maybe I need to take sedatives for a few weeks until my body and mind have calmed down from the Propavan-withdrawal. I know this state is only temporary. So I'll be okay eventually. But really, fuck all the so-called professionals who told me that it won't be such a big deal to get off the Propavan. I'm losing my mind, that is a BIG DEAL!
So on Saturday I'll take my last Propavan and then I'll stop taking it altogether. I'm sure I have some bad weeks ahead of me. At least two or three bad weeks. But I'm determined. I already feel the positive effects of not taking the full dosage: no more nightmares, no more dry mouth, lots of energy. During my hypomanic days (I think that period lasted for five days) I had the "smart" idea to get off all my meds. But I abandonded that idea last night. I will continue to take Zoplicone at need. I will continue to take sedatives at need. But I think I'll be much more myself when I'm not taking any meds regularly. I feel like I haven't been able to actually feel, to realize how I'm actually doing with the meds in my body. Maybe I'll do better without them? With my uber-sensitivity to meds it could well be that they make me worse. Who knows. But I'm also aware of the fact that many people who suffer from mental illness basically do the same thing. Stop taking all their meds and then they eventually end up in hospital. But I think I'm doing it the smart way with the Propavan. For me it's only about not taking meds regularly anymore. I'm sure my dear psychiatrist will not be too happy about this. I haven't even tried out the Seroquel he wanted me to take. It's just that I have given up on meds. Or any kind of psych-help. This morning I thought that I probably will never get any better because: 1. my doc said that therapy won't make me better, it will only, after many years, make me understand my issues better and 2. Meds don't work for me. They always only have made me worse and have given me some extra-issues to deal with. Blantly: I'll just fight on until I can't deal with it all anymore and kill myself. That probably won't be tomorrow. Or next month. At least I hope so. But it will happen eventually. That's the blant truth.
I think there are two more things that have triggered my crash. T, my social worker, was going to come and see me on Friday. But he cancelled because he had to help another one of his clients who got sectioned and needed to be in court. I had cancelled on him the week before. So I haven't seen him for two weeks. Which wouldn't be too bad but he's on holiday now and won't be back before the 22nd. That's my luck. And it makes me feel once again that I'm not worthy of any help. There are people out there that need more help than me. It's me that's the problem, my problems don't seem to worry others. I know that sounds stupid. But that's how my irrational thoughts go.
P moved out two days ago (our flatmate). And although we hadn't hung out much and he often just spent time in his room, the flat feels really empty right now. I feel lonely. I feel unsafe with only myself as company. It just doesn't feel good. My boyfriend is working so he's never at home before 4, often not before 5 p.m.. And now that P is gone my routines have kind of gone to hell. I'm still in my pyjamas and it's 3 p.m.. I haven't showered in two days. I haven't exercised in two days. I don't have to hold up the mask I tend to wear when others are around. And that's propably one of the reasons why my feelings have taken over and why my anxiety is that much out of hand. I haven't been outside the flat for three weeks now. I just can't deal with my social anxiety now as well. At the same time I know that being isolated from the rest of the world probably is bad. I just have nothing to go out for. No appointments. I haven't had a "date" with a friend since, mmm, February I think. That's how fucked up my life is!
I'm really really restless in my body right now, the legs are the worst. I can feel how my mind is slowly shutting down. I guess I'll fall into anxious apathy soon again. So I better stop writing. Soon I'll probably not make much sense anymore. Damn it.
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