Stuck

Wow. I can't believe that it has taken me so long to get back in the mood for writing a blog-entry. I have the most lame excuse: I just can't get started with things these days, I can't focus and I basically lost all motivation. It could be a sign of depression or maybe it's just the fact that it's still winter and the lack of sunlight has drained me of energy. I think it's depression as I'm taking vitamin D - supplements and they should be helping me with lack of energy. It doesn't matter what the cause of my total indifference and concentration-issues is. Eh? Anyway, tonight I just thought I'd force myself to write a bit and hopefully it will put me in the mood for more things that I love doing. Or that I have planned. Or that I should be doing. So what has happened in my life during the last few weeks?

Mental health. I have had periods that were quite alright. But most of the time I have just felt dead inside. A huge feeling of indifference. Other days that indifference is replaced by mind-killing anxiety. Suicide thoughts come and go. Self-harm thoughts come and go. The worst is my lack of motivation. It has a lot to do with that I have given up. I don't believe I can get help for my mental health problems. I'm not in the state where I think that it can never get any better. I might have some okay-ish days. But I don't think I'll ever have any real capacity to make it out there in the world. I'll end up being dependent upon my husband, or the social services, maybe the health insurance. I feel like I'm incurable. It's not like I feel that I have it worse than others. It's just that I have tried everything, nothing worked. And I can't get bothered to try yet another med or therapy. So I have lot all interest in the future because I know I have a bleak future ahead of me. I have nothing to look forward to, no goals that I know I can reach. I'll spend the rest of my days in this apartment, in the evenings my husband will be here, I have my two cats but I'll basically be cut off from society, success, social life. And that's why I'm not motivated to do anything. Why bother? I have given up. A huge contributer to this state of mind is the fact that I have dropped out of therapy. Before anyone starts blaming me for my own situation, let me explain. I didn't really make the decision because I wanted to. My therapist, well, ex-therapist told me that we are not getting anywhere, that it is always about suicide-prevention and crisis-solving with me. He made feel guilty for being unstable. And that's what he literally said to me: You are not stable enough for therapy. I wanted to continue with therapy but he made me feel like I was taking up someone else's spot, someone who deserved it better than me. And not mention that it seemed to me like he didn't believe that I could be helped. Honestly, how can anyone be not stable enough for therapy!?! Isn't therapy there for making you stable and help you deal with your problems? So I dropped out of therapy because my therapist talked me into it. When I look at it now, I'm quite sure that he manipulated me into dropping out. Instead I was sent to see a counselor, just so I have some kind of psych-contact. I met that person once. She didn't know what to do with me. She told me that we can meet sometimes, just to talk. This really didn't seem like the greatest help in the world. So I feel stuck. If they ever think I'm stable enough to start therapy again, I'll be put on a waiting-list, a 5 months wait, at least. And honestly, I'm bipolar and I don't take any meds, how am I going to be stable for 5 months? I cancelled my last appointment with her. It just feels useless. I'm sure there are other people going through some life-crisis right now who need the time with her. So: no future, no proper help. Why fight if what I have right now is everything I'll ever get? Oh, and I have a new psychiatrist. A confused old lady. She must be around 70. She  had forgotten about our first appointment. She hadn't read my file and proposed all kinds of meds to me, and all of those I had already tried before (Seroquel, Lamictal, Prozac ....). She had also promised me to contact a neurologist about my legs. She forgot about that. I had to call her to ask her about it, over a month later, and she was like: oh, I must have forgotten. Yeah, right, maybe time to retire. So I doubt that she will be able to help me medical wise. I'll get prescriptions for Oxazepam and Zoplicone whenever I need it. I guess that's something.

Physical health. I have been very quite unlucky when it comes to my phsyical health as well. First off, I can be a bit of a hypochondriac. I think it has to do with my anxiety, my GAD. I notice every small problem I have, I give it too much attention and I get scared. And of course I always get scared that I might some serious illness that will lead to a slow and painful death. Like, they have tested my blood-sugar some weeks ago and it was a bit high. They thought it wasn't high enough to be diabetes and it could just be that I had eaten something beforehand. The same with my white blood-cells, they said that I had a few too many but it could just be a minor infection somewhere in my body. But in my head I have diabetes and incurable cancer. I am just a worrier I guess. So, almost four months after having being diagnosed with hypothyroidism I kind of thought that they should do another check-up, especially because I had been put on meds and I had no clue if they were working or not. The meds give me side-effects by the way: my skin got really bad, I have itches and I feel nausea. But I have had worse side-effects. So I called my GP's office and got told that she is taking a break from work (sounded more like she got suspended) and told me they'd tell another GP to get in touch with me. That other GP called me, I had to leave blood-samples and it turns out my hormone-levels are still bad. The "funny" thing is that I have never met that GP. Only spoken to him on the phone once. Did he give me an appointment so we can discuss the results? Did he at least call me? Nope. That idiot sent me a letter telling me that my levels are still bad and how to increase my meds. That person is supposed to be my GP! What the heck? I'm still fighting with restless legs and spasms. It has been six months now since this shit started. I have stopped taking the Propavan in the end of November for heaven's sake. But nope, I still suffer from it. In the beginning of January I couldn't take it anymore. So I went to the ER. I had to wait for 8 (!!!) hours and then got to meet a neurologist. She examined me and decided to prescribe Sifrol to me. That's a Parkinson-medication but it is known to help with restless legs too. Well, but my fear of meds and side-effects got the best of me. This medication has side-effects such as depression, impulsivity, anxiety, psychosis. Honestly, not the best medication for someone with mental illness. I have still been fighting with the restless legs and spams daily. Some days it is so bad that I'm just in bed crying. I just can't try the med, I don't trust meds anymore. I'm really sure that it won't help and that I will just get bad side-effects. The neurologist from the ER called me this week to ask me how it is going. And I just told her the truth, that I have a history of bad reactions to medications and that I'm too scared to take the med. So she wants to book in a scheduled stay at the hospital for me so I can be observed while starting with the med, in case I get any bad reactions. I don't know. I'm really thankful that she called and that she understands and that she wants to help. It kind of feels like I would take someone else's spot, some stroke-patient who needs to be put on meds, someone with MS that needs to get their meds changed. Sure, I suffer badly but it is not life-threatening. I don't know. She said it will take some weeks until I will hear from them so who knows, maybe the restless legs and spasms have disappeared until then. Okay, I know, that is unlikely. We'll see.

So there you go. This is what I have been fighting with lately. This isn't all to be honest. But it is late now, I want to go to bed. I'll write some more tomorrow.

The weekend - almost at home

Saturday. On weekends the patients of the psych-unit are allowed to sleep as long as they want, or can. For me that meant 8 a.m.. Five hours of sleep was definitely more than I had gotten the nights before. I took a shower and made myself ready because I was allowed to stay at home on Saturday and Sunday. You know, before they let you leave the psych unit altogether, they let you test a night at home and see if you can handle being in the outside world amongst healthy people again. So even though I wasn't sent home on Friday as planned, I was supposed to spend two days and one night at home. 

I had a long chat with one of the nurses before I left. I had met that guy at another unit before and he is quite funny and loud. He gave me my meds for the day and we had a little argument because he didn't give me all the sedatives that are on my list. But it really didn't matter because I have all those meds at home as well anyway.

My husband came to fetch me and we went home. It always feels a bit weird to come home when you have been at the hospital. I was afraid that all my old feelings and impulses would catch up with me but they fortunately didn't. We wrote a grocery list for Christmas and my husband was really happy when I told him that I would follow with him to the supermarket. I can't stand shopping, my social anxiety always acts up in supermarkets. But it went well, we did A LOT of shopping and when we got home I was totally exhausted. I cuddled with my cats for some time and then took a nap.

The rest of the day was spent in front of the TV, watching movies and trying to feel safe at home. I actually got a good night's sleep in my own bed. When I woke up in the morning I knew that I wanted to be at home and not at the psych unit. That was kind of the moment when it turned for me, when I realized what I wanted something again, when I realized that I'm better and don't need to be at the hospital anymore. And then my legs started acting up and I was a total mess. I cried so much, I didn't know what to do. So I came back to the psych unit crying and told them that I needed to see a neurologist now! But nope, the nurse (no clue who she was, never had seen her before and she wasn't even wearing a name-tag) told me she could contact the on call psychiatrist but that's all. I took a sedative and waited. It only took an hour this time and a young doctor arrived. He, of course, couldn't help me. I had known that before but the nurse has insisted on calling him. All he could do was to write down a note in my file that I once again had been cryng out for help because of my restless legs. 

I just took another sedative and got a bit fuzzy in my head. My legs were still terrible but at least I wasn't as anxious. I even talked a bit with the other patients. You know, they had put up a plastic Christmas-tree at the unit and the tree was in silver. And about everyone was complaining about the colour of the tree. Yeah, Christmas at a psych-unit, can you imagine that? Poor souls!

The rest of the evening I spent studying Russian and chatting with my room-mate. I tend to get quite chatty from benzodiazipines. I think they make me let my guard down. So I might have just babbeled on and on and my room-mate was irritated. But in my head we were both chatting. Haha. I took my Zoplicone, watched some Dexter and fell asleep around 2 a.m..

RESTLESS

My legs have been driving me crazy during the last few days. And the restlessness is also creating more anxiety because I'm getting nothing done at all. And I've been googling my issues so much just to find reassurance that it will go away soon. That everything will go back to my normal state of depression and anxiety. But all I have found are terrible stories about how it has even gotten worse for people! I have read on some more reliable websites that the "extrapyramidical" withdrawal-symptoms most likely stay in the body for up to four months. For some people they will never disappear. I have only taken the stupid Seroquel for a little more than three weeks, how can I suffer from this? I mean, the damn restlessness in my legs came about a week after I have stopped taking it. I also have a very tensed jaw all the time. And I'm too scared to only take the Propavan during the night because the one time I tried I had muscle-spams in my whole body which was really awful. So now I'm taking Zoplicone every night. Not good. I have read about people who have had muscle-spams and akathasia even years after having stopped with the Seroquel. They are bound to bed and their lives have been destroyed. And of course I'm now worried that that will happen to me too. But it hasn't gotten worse for me yet. This morning, for about two hours, I didn't have any restless legs at all. It has just started again.

So what to do? Should I wait it out? I have been trying to avoid sedatives because I just don't want to take them regularly. I'm just not someone who goes and takes a pill right away. My husband thinks that I should call my psychiatrist. But I feel like I have annoyed him enough already, called him twice two weeks ago. And I have an appointment with him in six days anyway. So what I have done is to write down a list of things I need help with. If the restlessness doesn't go away, I need some medication for that, at least for a short period of time. He will probably be really confused that I'm having these withdrawal-symptoms but I had told him from the beginning that I don't work with meds. And I need to get off the Propavan. I guess I'll get to hear that I need to take benzodiazipines for a while, regularly. I guess I'll have to live with that. 

I'm not angry with my psychiatrist. He was really convinced that the Seroquel would help me. He maybe should have listened more to my arguments, that I always get side-effects, that I have always gotten worse from meds, instead of better. But on the other hand, I was the one putting the pill in my mouth, swallowing it. Although I knew better. So I'm really really angry with myself. I knew better! So I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't take any sedatives right now, because I unconsciously think that I deserve to feel like this. I like punishing myself. I should have listened to reason and not hoped for getting better. I knew that something like this would happen! So I'm really angry at myself. I'm so damn stupid!

My anxiety is really bad because of the restlessness. I can't sit still. I mean, I do sit still but there is always this urge to move around. I change positions all the time. I tried to exercise the other day because I thought it would make it better but my legs are so damn weak! It just didn't work out. In two weeks I'm supposed to start up my university-studies again. How will I manage that when I'm like this?

I have become suicidal again. We watched "Iron Man 3" the other day and there was a scene when Tony Stark is standing on a cliff. And all I could think about is how nice it would be to be at that cliff and just jump. And this feeling of wanting relief hasn't gotten any better. I think I'm really depressed. I am indifferent and very sad at the same time. I just don't have any mojo. I would right at this moment love to be standing on those cliffs and prepare to jump. Fortunately all our windows have locks so I can't jump from any of the windows. You know, we live on the sixth floor. And at one time I tried to jump out of our bedroom-window but my boyfriend saw me and wrestled me down. So since then we can't open any of the windows wholly, just a few inches. And I suppose that's good when I have feelings like I'm having right now.

I'm electrified - withdrawal and side-efffects hell

I'm exhausted. My whole body is in some kind of tensed mode. All my nerves and muscles are tensed, it's not painful, it's more like being constantly electricuted. Last night I decided to not take Zoplicone and just take a Propavan for sleeping. I just don't want to take too much Zoplicone due to the danger of getting addicted to it. And I have done like this for years, take a Zoplicone twice a week or so when I really needed to fall asleep because I had something important planned the next day. What I didn't think of was that I'm probably still in some kind of withdrawal-state because of the Seroquel.

I had no trouble falling asleep around 2 a.m. after having read for about an hour and having cuddled with my cats. But once I had fallen asleep the terror began. First off, I had terrible nightmares. Those I often get when taking Propavan and no Zoplicone. I dreamt about wanting to take a plane to Senegal of all places. I have never even given that country a second thought in my life. But I couldn't find the gateway, ended up in a toilet and witnessed a women getting raped and tortured. Really weird fucked up nightmare. I woke up many times during the night because of spasms and cramps. So terrible! I got those when I tried to stop taking Propavan and even sometimes randomly while being on the Propavan. It's like my body is in stupor and there are weird electric shocks going through it. And my legs and arms, even the rest of my body somehow, start moving, cramping, like a dying fish on land. And this morning it took me about an hour to get out of bed because the feeling was still left in my whole body. I guess the withdrawal from the Seroquel and the Propavan side-effects work together here. Some devilish coalition. My jaw is really tensed too. The feeling hasn't really disappeared out of my body yet. So I have taken a sedative about ten minutes ago (Oxazepam) because I know sedatives are muscle-relaxing. And I have anxiety anyway because of this terrible feeling. My whole body aches! GAH! So tonight and probably the following few nights I'll take a Zoplicone. That has helped before against the weird spasms and cramps I get from the Propavan. I have an appointment with my psychiatrist on the 26th and I'll definitely take that up with him. I need to stop taking the Propavan and I need help with that. I have read up on it (I really shouldn't google things but I was so freaked out by this) and there are many people who are getting spasms of Propavan. Plus for a few months now I sometimes have this weird movement of my mouth/lips that I can't control. That can come from the Propavan too. So once I'm through with the Seroquel withdrawal, I need to get off the Propavan. And as it didn't work out last time with reducing the dosage, I need some help. Maybe some meds or something that will get me through it. Honestly, these spasms freak me out. I hope they are gone tomorrow and the Zoplicone tonight helps. I'm getting married in two days and I really don't want to stand there, having spasms and cramps and no control over my body. It just feels right now as if something is seriously wrong.

On a positive note: the rash and the itching are gone. That's such a relief! This shows that I have actually had an allergic reaction to the Seroquel. I'm glad that I have stopped taking it. Who knows, maybe I had gotten an allergic shock eventually. I'm so over psych-meds. 

I received a letter today, telling me that I have an appointment with a therapist on September 3rd. This is making me really happy! Finally things are happening. I'll try so hard to convince that guy that psychodynamic therapy is right for me. It would be really great if I'd be accepted. I'll have an autumn where things are finally moving forward, no standing still anymore. Studies and therapy. Routines and stability. 

I'm not doing so bad mentally right now. I'm not depressed or sad. I'm a bit anxious because of the weird things happening with my body. But I'm not overworried. I tend to be really hypochondriac but even though all the symptoms are terrible I can keep calm. I think because the rash and the itching have disappeared, I'm convinced that the spasms and cramps are temporary as well. Let's hope so. Right now I'm a bit freaked out because I can't really feel my hands. Gosh, I hope the Oxazepam will make me a bit tired so I can take a nap. That's what I need. A nap.

I'm trying, really trying, I promise

I'm anxious and restless. But that's nothing new, is it? At least it's not the kind of restlessness I had when I tried to get off the Propavan. I have slept 9 hours last night and that's exactly what I needed. So at least I'm not too exhausted today. I still feel really hungover though. As always I had lots of things planned for today but I really haven't done much yet. I just washed the dishes and tidied up the the bedroom. Let's hope there's more that I can do today. I have a lot to write, a letter, reply to an email and finish a short story I have been working on for some time now. 

The anxiety feels a bit increased which could have to do with that I'm supposed to get my period soon. All my mental issues get worse when I'm pms-ing. My period hasn't been exactly regular lately though. So I don't know. The day before yesterday I was really suicidal which also tends to happen before I get my period. So I just hope that's the reason why. I  read up on suicide-statistics and some discussions on why suicide is selfish. But I'm not in that state of mind today. I have actually started planning my mum's visit. We don't have any money, she doesn't have any money. So we have decided to fill the car with petrol with our last savings so we can get out while she is here. I was thinking about doing a picnic somewhere in a park, taking a walk somewhere in nature, on my boyfriend's birthday we'll visit his favourite café. Yesterday I have also been checking up on exhibitions and museums which are free. I have seven days to fill with things. We'll stock up on food before she comes so we don't have to eat out. My mum hangs a lot on chatrooms on the internet so she can use my netbook. I already have fixed a cable through a wall into the guestroom so she'll have internet there. I think we'll somehow make this week work. My boyfriend is also off from work that week so if I'm having a bad day, the two of them can go out together. I'm never happy about my mum visiting. I have to be pretend to be okay. And my routines get disturbed. I have to get up early in the morning for instance. I have to be social. I have to go out. But yeah, she only comes around once a year so it's okay.

I have been outside the appartment yesterday! For the first time in five weeks. I just needed to get some things at the supermarket, beauty things, hairdye. And it felt good to put some make-up on, fix my hair, put some decent clothes on. For the last five weeks I have been running around in long shirts and leggings.My boyfriend told me several times how good I was looking It went alright although I had a panic attack in the parking lot. So my weeks of isolation are over! Next week my social worker is back from his vacation so I'll have to meet him once a week. Well, but I'm still having trouble meeting friends. I still haven't replied to A's message. And yesterday P asked if he could come over but I told him I was busy. I hate myself for that! 

At the moment I'm trying to force myself to call my father. His grandmother has given my mum two very expensive necklaces. She is from Iran and she visited us once when I was maybe 10 years old. That's the only time I have ever seen her. She died in the early 90s. So those necklaces are for my sister and me, for the day when we get married. I'm getting married in August and I really want that necklace. I have nothing else to remind me of my Iranian grandmother. So I told my mum I want her to bring it along when she comes to visit us. But my father refuses  to let her take the necklace. He thinks that she wants to sell it. My father is delusional! She would never do that! So he told her he wants to give it to me. But I haven't been in Germany for three years and I'm not planning to go there any time soon. And he knows that. So he said he'll send it instead. As if that was safe?!? So I need to call him (should have done that days ago) and tell him that I want my mum to give me the necklace when she is here. I just don't have the courage to pick up the phone right now. I know it's going to be a difficult situation. He'll badmouth my mother. But I want that necklace because I want to have something to remember my grandmother by!

I have an appointment with my psychiatrist next Tuesday. I'm a bit scared of that meeting to be honest. I mean, I haven't done anything he had told me to do. I still haven't tried a whole Valium one more time. I haven't taken the Seroquel. And I have been isolating myself, been suicidal and didn't call any helpline or asked for help. I just know that he'll give me that disappointed look. I wonder if he will say that it seems like I don't want any help. Or if he'll say that he can't help me anymore. I have even thought about cancelling the appointment. I just hate to admit that I'm complicating things.

I'm having my third cup of coffee for today. It's time for lunch/dinner soon. I think I want to read until then. So far I'm not hating this day yet.

Holding on

I haven't felt this bad in months. This constant anxiety is turning me into a real mess. I'm always on the edge to panic and I'm bascially petrified. The last two days I've been sitting on the sofa, playing brainkilling games on my smartphone, just so I don't need to feel or think. That's all I can do right now, distract myself with simple things. Reading or writing are out of the question at the moment. I can't focus. I have lost all my apetite and hunger. I even forgot to shower. The only thing on my mind is: make it stop. I can't take it anymore. I'm getting really desperate.

I'm still convinced that this was triggered by the reduction of the dosage of Propavan. First I've been on a high for four or five days and then I crashed, badly. I feel like I'm in a cage and I can't get out. I feel so trapped. I want to just scream out my pain. This is so terrible!

But I'm holding on to one thought: This state is only temporary. I won't be this bad forever. It will pass and I'll get back to my usual depressed and anxious state that I can handle. It's just a matter of time. I'm repeating this in my head over and over again. This is only temporary, it will get better.

But still, I'm in a desperate state. I'm so restless. I'm so anxious. I'm so sad. I can't remember when I last cried so much. But I'm also proud of myself. I have stayed out of the hospital so far. I have not been in bed all day long. I've been able to stick to some simple routines. I've not hurt myself. I've ignored the suicidal thoughts that pop into my head. And I'm still determined to stop taking the Propavan. Tonight I'll take the last one and then I'm off. But I'm a bit afraid of what will happen to me. I'm afraid of getting even worse. Because if I get any worse I'll most likely lose it.

I even took a sedative the other day. That's also something that I'm proud of. I'm so much against medication because it doesn't solve my problems in the long run. But I assessed my situation and I decided it was for the best. I think that this is just a temporary solution for my temporary state. I haven't tried the Diazepam again but I'll do it the next time I need a sedative.

I've had a terrible dream last night. I dreamt that my brother was in some kind of boxing game and they were fighting to the death. And I couldn't see who was winning. And then one of the boxers died and everybody was screaming. And I was in panic looking for my brother. They hung up the dead person in a tree but I still couldn't see who it was. I was screaming, crying, looking for my brother. Then I found him, in a bathroom, shaking, crying. So when I woke up this morning I was in panic. Not a great start for a day. And then I stepped into cat poo, with my bare feet. My cat sometimes gets really excited when she's in her litter box so she forgets that she's actually taking a dump and runs out of the bathroom, still poo coming out. Yup. She's weird like that.

I'll try to watch a movie later. That's my plan for today. I'm trying to avoid to think about how I actually never will get much better because there's no help out there for me. I'll hold on to the thought that the state I'm in right now is only temporary. Any more thinking than that and I'll sink into the depths of darkness.

I'm confusing myself

I'm actually quite alright right now. And I didn't crash yesterday. Maybe the worst is over. My anxiety is still strong and I wouldn't be able to do anything demanding right now. But I'm not sad. I have been looking at cat-memes all morning. Ah, by the way, that's something that annoys me. That these pictures are called memes. Meme is a term that Richard Dawkins brought up in a sociological meaning. A meme is a unit in our society that is generally accepted as a truth and therefore is inherited by the next generation. It works in society at the time and keeps up certain laws. Religion is a meme, capitalism is a meme, patriarchy is a meme. But I'll not be all intellectual now, most people aren't interested in those kinds of things anyway.

I have had some confusing and weird thoughts. I think they are some kind of defense-mechanism. It's like this: there is a lot of confusion around what diagnosis I have. I have met many (many!) different psychiatrists during the almost three years I'm contact with psych-help. And they all come up with different ideas about what to exactly call my condition(s). They all kind of agree on Avoidant Personality Disorder/Social Anxiety, PTSD and GAD. But they don't think that's all and I agree with that. So first they were convinced that I have  Borderline Personality Disorder. But I don't have that, I don't fit the category, I'm not impulsive, I have no problems with relationships. So they thought that I might have Depressive Personality Disorder/Dysthimia. But nope, now I'm bipolar instead. 

I'm so tired of it! Why must my case be so complicated?!? Why can't I just have one diagnosis? Why can't they see what I'm suffering from? I have done two kinds of therapy so far. CBT and DBT. Both didn't help me one bit. I'm one of the "unlucky" ones who doesn't get better by just going against her feelings. Like, one of my social anxieties ( I have many, I avoid all kinds of human contact if possible. I haven't met a single friend since February. I haven't been outside our apartment for almost a month now) is to take the subway. I saw that as my main obsticle to get to university, the one place I want to get to! So I did all the exercises, I took the subway every day to university for almost a month. And it didn't get better, it got worse. I eventually ended up at some subway-station in central Stockholm where the police picked me up because I had a major breakdown. I wanted it soooo bad! And it didn't work out. I theoretically understood and still understand how CBT works. But it doesn't work for me. DBT. Well, it wasn't for me. I felt like an outsider during the year I did that therapy. I was the odd one out. I didn't have their problems, my problems were totally different. I didn't get better, I even got worse because I saw everyone else doing progress and I was still stuck with my anxiety and suicidal ideation. One time I was sent to hospital right after grouptherapy because I was sucidal. That was so embarrassing! Anyway, I didn't like DBT, I found it condescending. Mindfulness is a joke to me. It doesn't work for me for several reasons. I might write another entry about that one day. 

Meds don't work for me. I'm too sensitive to medication. I get so strong side-effects that I end up in hospital every time I try out a new med. I get even paradoxal side-effects! I can get euphoric of benzodiazipines. I got really tired of Wellburtin. The few medications that have helped me (Abilify and Lamictal) I had to stop taking because they caused Caged Tiger Syndrome and an allergic shock. 

So what is left for me? What more can they do? Psychodynamic therapy? Try out even more meds? I have lost all hope. So now to my weird thoughts. There are several:

1. I'm too fucked up. No one can help me. They only see me as an annoyance. It's my own fault because I can't really describe my feelings. I am intellectualizing everything. I'm a lost cause to them. 

2. Maybe I'm not ill! Maybe I'm healthy and all the meds I have tried out actually made me ill. And to continue to have contact with the psychiatric center will only make things worse. So I better quit everything. Stop taking all the meds. And hope for the best.

3. Why do I continue to fight? I can continue living this meaningless life some more years. Until the pain gets too much and I commit sucide. That has been on  my mind since I was a child. I have always been convinced that I'll die by my own hand. So why fight it? Maybe that's my fate (although I don't believe in the concept of fate or determination)

But I know what I'm actually feeling. It's fear. It's the fear that they actually have nothing more to offer me. And the fear that they think that I don't want help. I haven't tried out the Seroquel. I always seem okay when meeting the professionals because I can hold the mask up. At least most of the time. I haven't even cried once in therapy! So maybe they think I'm just a lazy attentionwhore. I have real difficulties to ask for help or to be honest about how I'm feeling, or to even describe my feelings. So yeah. I've lost hope. And I'm afraid that they have lost hope too. I'm afraid that they will say they I have to blame myself to not take the help they offer me. But what is it they offer me anyway? Hence the defensive thoughts. Better to believe that I'm not ill,  better to believe that I'll kill myself eventually than to face the truth that there might not be any help out there for me. 

Maybe I don't want help? I often feel like I just want to be left alone. Maybe in the end it's the fear for change. I don't fucking know. I want to be myself. I want to be able to try out to live. I want to reach my full potential. I want to be the best I can be. But the years I have fought for getting the right kind of help have made tired. I don't want to fight anymore. It doesn't seem worth all the pain. It's just not worth it.

I don't even know if this entry makes any sense! I better go and get another cup of coffee. And smoke a cigarette. And get some logic into my head.

Out of order - but somehow functioning

I've been really uninspired during the last few days hence the lack of posts. I have discovered a website where you can play old Nintendo games for free (nesforever) so I have been playing Super Mario Bros 3 all weekend long. And I really didn't do much else. It actually helped me a bit to get out of the dark valley of depression because it kept me busy. I didn't have to think much, I could just focus on pressing the right button and making the little plumber jump. I have gotten tired of the games now though because I can't get past a certain level and that makes me frustrated. So now I'm trying to tackle reality again, no more brainkilling games and no more wasting whole days with sitting in front of the computer.

Yesterday I went to the Peter Murphy-concert in Stockholm. He was playing Bauhaus-songs and I really couldn't have missed that. The moment we arrived at the venue someone called out my name and some of my friends were sitting outside, eating kebab. Don't people usually eat kebab after a show?!? Anyway, we went in and there were lots of people and I started to panic. I felt sick to my stomach and I was sure I was going to throw up. But I'm good at holding up a mask and I don't think anyone noticed. Actually, I was close to panic during the whole night. I tried to push the feeling away. I told myself that I won't throw up. I have never thrown up because of a panic attack and only once because of anxiety. But the horror-scenarios were in my head, the embarassment I would feel if I threw up in a crowded place, how everyone would stare at me and think that I'm disgusting. Despite that I actually enjoyed myself. I goofed around with my friends, talked with a lot of people and it felt good to be social.And I felt pretty. This seldomly happens. I am really ashamed of my body because of the huge weight-gain. And yeah, my stomach looked big last night but I didn't care much. I had a jacket on that hid it a bit. My hair looked amazing, the purple turned out well and I fixed my goth-mohawk. I also loved the dress I was wearing and my make-up was perfect. So yeah, I felt pretty and somewhat confident. And it was kind of cool that a lot of people asked me if they could take a picture of me. Oh, and the concert was fantastic. I was in the first row and I was often just closing my eyes, listening to the music, singing along. There were some awkward moments though. There was no barrier between the stage and the crowd so I was really really close to the band and Murphy. And I don't like someone singing and looking into my eyes. And that happened a few times. That's really the kind of attention I hate getting. Yeah, and all the time I was thinking about how embarrassing and catastrophical it would be if I threw up right on stage. I also zoned out a few time, I slipped into some kind of dissociativ state. Still, I enjoyed myself. Our friend K came with us after the show because she lives close to where we live so we dropped her off at her house. We talked about cats. Random, I know.

I'm really exhausted now. My cat woke me up at 9 a.m. which is basically the middle of the night for me. That little monster hopped around on me and when I had gotten up she went to her favourite chair and fell asleep. So I have been chatting with people on Facebook. And I have read up on streaming. It is not illegal in Sweden to watch streamed film and series. So I'll be busy the next few years, watching movies. And I think I'll start with the third season of the Walking Dead tonight.

I have tried out the Diazepam. And it felt like I couldn't breathe. I don't know if that was due to the pill, my fear around new meds and or the bleach in my hair. I had bleached my hair earlier that day and I can get a bit wuzzy from the bleach. It was probably a combination of the three. I also felt really dizzy and my arms and legs didn't really follow me. I was basically in bed for an hour, hyperventilating. I am sensitive to medication after all so I thought the Diazepam was too strong for me and it would stop breathing at any second and just drop dead. I just fell asleep after a while. I will give it another go. Next time my anxiety is really really high, I'll take another one. And I'll have my boyfriend around in case I really stop breathing. I think I just overreacted and panicked. Diazepam is stronger than Oxazepam after all.

Tomorrow T will come over. He will have three weeks off in July and asked me if I want another person visiting me during those weeks or if it is enough with a person I can call in case I need help. I don't think I want to meet yet another person and T and I only sit and talk anyway so I'll be fine with a number I can call. On Friday I have an appointment with my psychiatrist. I have decided I don't want to try out the Lithium because 1. I don't have an official bipolar-diagnosis 2. I'm afraid of side-effects, especially the weight-gain, and I have always ended up in hospital when I tried a new med 3. I don't trust that there will be any follow-ups when he is not working at the center anymore and I'll have yet another psychiatrist and 4. I have PCOS and I'm afraid that it will mess up my thyroid. I don't know what he will say to this. It might seem like I don't want any help and that's not true. I just want the right kind of help and I am too afraid of new meds. I'm quite sure that he will be disappointed and a bit helpless because there basically isn't much he can do. We'll see how that goes.

Today I still need to exercise and prepare lunch/dinner/food. I also want to try to write a poem or a short text for my psychiatrist's book. I'm just so damn tired! And my body is really hurting. I'm not used to being outside, I'm not used to meeting people, and I'm not used to stand for hours and then dance for hours. And I'm allergic to my hairspray so I'm sneezing all the time. I should try to get my hair down too. But I'll start with the exercise and then try to write something. I'd rather be in bed and sleep.

And there's more ... spending money, death and riots

As my boyfriend has decided to take care of dinner/lunch/food today I thought I'd write another entry. I'm usually the one who cooks but during the weekends I let him take over. And honestly, we don't work well in the kitchen together. He finds me way too controlling and well, I probably am. I just want things to be done right! Haha. Everyone is barbecueing today but we don't have anywhere we can use a grill. Well, we could walk down to the lake, they have a public barbecue-area there but there are lots of families down there and honestly, I don't like screaming children and fat sweaty men in wife-beaters. So we'll fry our meat instead, we bought barbecue-meat. So yeah, it will be almost like a barbecue. 

After my appointment with the psychiatrist, my boyfriend and I went to a mall close to where we live so I could buy the things I need for my DIY-project. I want to pimp up a jacket with patches and studs. By the time we got to the DIY-store I had already spent most of my money though. I had to pick up my meds (I got a really suspicious look and lots of interrogating questions from the pharmacist. That's what happens if you want to pick up three different benzos), I went to H&M and bought some lipstick, went to another store to buy some concealer and primer and I went to a huge store with small cute things for the home (It's called "Lagerhaus"). They had fake moustaches!! I just had to buy them. Haha. Anyway, so I could only get some basic things at the DIY-store. I had wanted to buy some pens and stamps for my letters too.

Do you want to know how weird my mind works? I'm of course now analyzing if my behaviour, buying all these things, has anything to do with that I might be bipolar. gah! I was just so relieved and happy after the appointment at the psych-center that I happily bought some small things. I didn't buy anything expensive. The most expensive thing I bought was the primer for around 12 UsDollar. So I might be overthinking this. It's not like I bought a pair of shoes for a 1000 bucks. But I must admit that I have been spending quite a lot of money lately, I ordered stationary for 100 UsDollars for instance. But I needed it! Bah, I should try to stop over-thinking things.

We had lunch at a salad-bar. Now that is HUGE for me. I don't eat out, I have real trouble eating in front of other people. I had an avocado-cottage cheese salad and it was yummy! I even let my boyfriend take a picture of me and the food and I uploaded it on Instagram. Big deal for me. 

I skyped with my mum for an hour in the evening, messing around with my moustaches. Haha. I told her that we all think that she's addicted to the internet. And she actually agreed to that. She told me about some fucked-up things that my dad has done lately. She always has a packed bag now, so she can leave at once if necessary. From what she told me, it sounds like he has a drug-induced psychosis. That's what drugs do to you if you have taken them for like 30 years. She said that she won't leave the house until she has an own place to move into, until she knows where to get the money from to survive. That's her decision. I would have left already some weeks ago. My mum looked tired and exhausted. But she laughed hard at my moustache-stunts. It was good to see her.

I then chatted with a friend from åland which was fun. She's a great person and always have something to talk about. Then my boyfriend got a call, his father is dead. The thing is that they never really were in touch, he left his mum when he was only 2, his mum died when he was 3 and he then got adopted by his grandparents. His father only came to visit them when someone had died and he thought he could get some money from inheritence. My boyfriend sent him a letter about a year ago to know about any illnesses in the family but only got a short note back saying that his father doesn't want any contact with him. So yeah, it was more like a relief for him to get to know that his father is dead. Although he is a bit sad that he never really got to know him, never really met him. 

And during the night the riots started again. I'm sure that most of you have read about the riots in Stockholm and especially in the suburbs. It's happening in my suburb too, they burned down cars, they smashed windows and threw stones at the police. Last night I saw a gang of maybe 30 youngsters walk into the center, carrying things they can fight with. It all seems a bit apocalyptic. We bought an extra-insurance for our car so in case it gets burned down, we get money. The thing that is annoying me the most are the helicopters flying around, all the damn time! I get that the police needs to have an overview of the area but those helicopters are loud! I have my strong opinions about the riots that I really don't need to share here. Let's just say it's the government's and the system's fault. If the gap between rich and poor grows, people get upset eventually.

Bipolar?!?

I wanted write an entry yesterday but I was just way too tired. I couldn't focus on anything, let alone write in a language that isn't my mothertongue. I'm having a bad headache today, I took a painkiller this morning, got all drowsy, went back to bed, slept for another two hours and now I think I'm well enough to tackle this day.

So I had the appointment with my new psychiatrist yesterday. It was really difficult for me to get up at 7 a.m., my boyfriend literally had to drag me out of bed. I had two panic-attacks, one in the car on the way to the psych-center, I calmed down and we went inside and I had another panic attack in the waitingroom. As I'm a controlfreak, I can control my reactions to some extent. I don't start crying or screaming. So most people don't even realize when I have a panic attack. Maybe if they sit next to me and they hear me hyperventilating. 

The psychiatrist is a man in his 50s. He was really friendly and I felt at ease right away. He has worked in the pharmaceutic industry for years, doing testings with Abilify and Seroquel. That might make some people suspicious but I thought that was cool because that means that he has a lot of knowledge concerning meds, something that most psychiatrists don't have. He had read my whole (!!!) file which I found very surprising. Most psychiatrists I have met can't even remember your name and they tell you to give them a summary of your life and the meds you have taken. We talked for almost an hour, another positive thing, I often only had gotten 15 minutes of a doctor's time because they are so stressed out. 

So what did he say? He was very honest and said that he doesn't think that I'd be getting any better with only therapy. He said that the therapy will have to last for years and years and that psychodynamic therapy probably is right for me because it has an intellectual perspective. But it won't be enough. I can agree with that, I have done the DBT for a year after all and I haven't improved a bit, nope, I even got worse. He also said that he doesn't look at diagnosiseses in the first place but at the people and the symptoms that he can do something about with medication. And that's fair in my opinion, there is no medical cure for any mental illness and there is not much known about the brain's functions anyway. He told me that after having read my journal he suspects that one of the main illnesses I have is Bipolar Disorder. He doesn't think that I have any personality disorders. He said that my main problem is the anxiety, so I definitely have all those anxiety disorders. And the PTSD is pretty obvious as well. 

So we talked about the Bipolar thing for a while. He said it is Bipolar 2 and that my hypomanic phases just never caused any huge trouble for me because they made me more effective and creative and that that had been a good thing for me, my studies and my writing. And I think that could be true. I have times when I am way more effective and creative, almost obsessed with things and I succeed with about everything I do. And then I have times, mostly when I'm really depressed, when I can't focus at all and I feel like all my abilities and talents have just left me. I just never connected it all together. It's the same with being talkactive. Damn, I can talk a lot and really fast at times. But then I have periods when I don't say much at all. But I'm not impulsive and I never think that I'm a genious or anything. I'm not too sure what to think of all of this. Do I even want to have yet another diagnosis? This is what happens when you have to switch psychiatrists all the time. Everyone says something else. At least no one thinks I have Borderline Personality Disorder anymore. So yay.

Medication. We didn't speak much about sleepingpills because I have already tried all the ones that are out there. He said that I could try to cut down on the Propavan for a while and then take it again, maybe my body will react to it better then. So I'll try to be without it for a couple of nights, maybe next weekend. The most amazing and baffeling thing happened. Well, we all know that psychiatrists are against benzodiazipines, mostly because there are some low-lifes out there who take them illegaly to get high ( hate hate hate those people, they are really making it more difficult to get help when you actually are in need of sedatives). But nope, my new psychiatrist actually offered me a stronger and more long-lasting benzo than the one I'm usually taking. He actually couldn't believe that no one had taken my anxiety seriously before. He of course gave me the talk: not to take the med too often, not overdose, not take it with alcohol. Anyway, I have Valium now. I also convinced him to give me a prescription for the Oxazepam, in case the Valium doesn't work for me. Well, and then he suggested Lithium. He said that it could level my feelings out and that it will do something about my suicidality. I asked him to give me some weeks to think about it. I did a google search, talked with two of my friends who are bipolar and I read up on side-effects. And I have decided to not try it. I have gained sooooooo much weight due to hospital stays and medication, I just can't gain anymore. It's not good for my self-confidence and most importantly, it's not good for my body. And I have PCOS so I don't even think I can take Lithium with that. And there is this HUGE fear of side-effects that I have. The things I have gone through with other meds, I just don't want to re-live that. Nope. The only two meds that actually made me feel better were Lamictal and Abilify, both moodstabilizers, both work for people who are bipolar. Are there any more moodstabilizers out there? What am I to do!?! I know antidepressants haven't worked on me at all so far ...

Uh, and then he gave me the phone-number to his office. I was in shock. I have NEVER gotten the number of a psychiatrist. I never had the possibility to contact them. I almost hugged him because I was so overwhelmed by all of this. I mean, he has read my file, he actually gave me and my problems some attention and real thought. He wasn't demeaning, he treated me like a person. Oh, and he is writing a book right now and as he has had read in my file that I'm good with words he asked me to write a poem or a short prosa-piece on how I have been treated by psych-professionals. I'll give that a try. I'll meet him in three weeks again and hopefully he has another suggestion than Lithium. 

I'm really confused right now. Am I really bipolar? Should I try any more medication? I'll try not to think about it this weekend. At the moment I'm just glad that I've met the first friendly psychiatrist since my journey with mental illness started. Sadly enough, he'll only work at the center until autumn. Now that's my luck!