The itching is a bit better today. It's still itching but it is definitely not as bad as yesterday. The palms of my hands are still swollen and somehow burning. But my face looks so much better. But it is still itching, especially on my arms and my back. I did something that I have actually been avoiding due to my hypochondriac tendencies. I googled withdrawal symptoms of Seroquel. I can't believe that people still get this medication! Poeple lost their eye-sight, got strokes, got heart-attacks and most people get the itching and burning that I'm experiencing right now. I'm really relieved that I actually stopped taking the med after just three weeks on it. Otherwise I probably would have had to take it for the rest of my life because getting off it would have been impossible with my ubersensitivity to medications. So yeah, I'm still itching but it feels like it's getting better. I feel a tad weak and this morning I was really close to throwing up. Most people experienced the itching for two or three weeks so at least I know now that there is an end to it.
Getting off yet another med because of bad side-effects has led me to the conclusion that this is it. I don't want to try any new medications/antidepressants/moodstabilizers/antipsychotics. People always say that I have to endure side-effects and have to try out all the meds avaiable before giving up. Well, if I had a bacteria infection and I knew that there is an end to it, I might have to take the antibiotics for a few weeks, maybe months, yeah, I would try out everything avaiable. But when it comes to psych-meds I'm not thinking like that. It's because I'd have to take them for years and years to come. Why? Because I have several diagnosis, it's not just one infection. Anyway, I don't want to try out any more meds. I guess I slightly hope that they will get somewhere with neurological research and somewhat come up with a simple solution to mental illness. Like lobotomy but less invasive and more studied. On the news they said yesterday that they have found out that the genes of people with mental illness are the same,that there is a genetic disposition. And they came to the conclusion that mental health is mostly genetic and not enviromental. That's a huge find. But of course no one cares because they'd rather think that we have done something wrong than that there is something wrong with the genes, something we have no control over.
So I have given up on meds. I have given up on the hospital as well. But not totally. I can't rule out that I'll be admitted again. That will be periods when I need to be safe. But I want to avoid that as much as possible. One of my biggest fears is getting sectioned, to be admitted against my will. But I doubt that will happen. I'm a reasonable person, even when I'm anxious or really low. So I know what to say and how to act to not get sectioned. Then there's therapy. My psychiatrist told me that he doesn't think that therapy will help me. He said that therapy will only make me understand but it will never heal me. Yeah. I have tried out CBT and DBT. I don't like being told what to do without any proper explaination. The causal correlation between the past and the present, between my actions and my memories has never come up. I can't do that. I need to reflect, to discuss, to learn. So CBT and DBT (which was the totally wrong therapy for me!) didn't work out. I hope that psychodynamic therapy might at least help me to understand. If I understand and accept I might be able to change things, I might be able to gather more strength. I want my recovery to be on my terms and psychodynamic therapy seems to be right for that. But who knows, maybe I won't get in. I still haven't heard from them. It's been six months since my last therapy session.
So, without meds, will I ever get better? And without therapy? I feel like I'm stuck right now. Nothing has moved forward for a year. In and out of hospital last year, several times. This year has so far only been about standing still. There has been no improvement (how - withou therapy?). I'm starting to give up hope. Honestly, in my head I have already given up. I don't believe that there's any help out there for me. They give me diagnosis after diagnosis, they give me med after med, they put me in and out of hospital. They don't know what to do with me. I'm too complicated, I'm not just a "simple" depression or have BPD or have social anxiety disorder. Nope, I have several things. And they don't know how to help me. I feel like that there is no help for me to get.
If I were religious, I would let God take care of me. Well, I'm not religious, I don't believe in God, energies or anything spiritual. So where do I turn to? Nowhere. I only have myself. For now I'll take each day as it comes. I'm not in a deep depression right now. I'm depressed, yes, but I'm not awfully suicidal. My anxiety is there but bearable. So I'll just carry on. Day by day,. There are things happening in my life. In three days I'm getting married. In three weeks my university studies start again. I have things to look forward to. And I'm content about these things, but not happy. I'm never happy because even the things that should bring my happiness are always somehow connected to anxiety, worries and so on. Like: I have gained so much weight I'll look stupid in my wedding outfit. Like: I'm afraid I'll fail the courses because I'm doing too bad. So my point is: I'll just carry on, take each days as it comes and not think of the terrible, meaningless future ahead of me. But there will be a day when I won't be able to fight anymore. And that will be the day I'll commit suicide. I knew that day would come, even when I was a small child. I always knew that I'll die of my own hand. And I'm alright with that. It won't happen tomorrow and probably not this year. But maybe in five years, maybe in ten years. The day will come. And I'm alright with that. I have made my peace with the thought that I'll kill myself. Because I know that there isn't any proper help out there for me. No one can help me. And that's okay.
I've told all this to my social worker the other day. I have no clue if that was right or wrong. I explained it to him logically. He didn't say anything. He probably thought that I won't be his problem when the day comes anyway. So he just pretended to listen and hoped that he'd be able to leave my flat soon because all this negativity was making him bored. I know, I know, I can't know what he was thinking. But that's how I felt he was thinking because there was no response coming from him.
I know this post isn't overly positive. But I feel like I have made peace with the thought that there is no proper help out there for me. And I have a plan that makes it feel okay. One day it will all be over. Maybe that day will never come and I'll die of old age, with an uneventful, meaningless life behind me. Who knows.
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