I'm still not taking my meds ...

I still haven't taken the Seroquel/Quetapine. I am a wuss. I have realized that I have come up with a lot of avoidance-strategies and excuses. I still don't know if it's the fear of the side-effects or the feeling that I don't want to be ill so I ignore the fact that I could need a strong medication. I had the meeting with my psychiatrist a week ago, I have had the pills at home for six days now. I haven't opened the package. It's in my medicine-cabinet, in the back, in the dark, where I can't see it. 

I think the main reason for not taking it is fear. And P's seizures because of the Wellburtin really made that part only worse. I'm afraid of side-effects. Before I had started with psych-meds I had never been afraid of side-effects. I had seen them as part of getting better. I get dizzy and I feel sick from simple painkillers. Still, I  took them when I had a headache. I took antibiotics although I threw up because of them. Those are not side-effects, psych-meds give you really fucked up side-effects. The first psych-med I have ever taken was Prozac. I could barely eat for three months. I could barely sleep. I was manic and restless. I was shakey. I threw up every day. And I got even more suicidal. First imprint of a psych-med in my memory. And then Zoloft, Lamictal, Effexor, Abilify, Zyprexa, Wellburtin. They all made me worse, much worse. Effexor gave me a feeling of electric shocks through my whole body, I didn't leave the bed for a week. Zyprexa made me really really fat. The nodrenaline in Wellburtin gave me so much anxiety that I was going mad for real. I had someone sitting with me for two weeks because I was so suicidal. Nope. No good experiences at all. So yes, one of the reasons I don't want to take Seroquel is because of the side-effects. Okay, it's probably the main reason. I just don't believe that meds can help me. I'm too sensitive to medication. And if you don't believe that a medication can help, it probably won't help. I won't even get a placebo-effect out of it. And well, Seroquel can make me fat just like the Zyprexa did, it could make me lose my mojo, just like Zyprexa did. And it could make me more suicidal, like all other psych-meds did. Gosh, I even got panic when I took my first Valium ever. It didn't calm me down, it made me panic because I was so afraid of it being bad for me. I hyperventilated, because of a sedative!

The second reason which is kind of a result of the first reason is that I don't want to get admitted to the hospital again. I didn't get better there. I hated being there. And everytime I left I was feeling worse than when I got there. There are people there, lots of people! You need to share your room with three others, you need to share a bathroom with six others. You get crappy meals. The staff is always stressed out and the doctors want to send you home as soon as possible because they need your bed for someone else who is waiting in the ER. It's never about getting better, it's about getting you out of there as soon as possible. Like the last time I was there I tried to commit suicide three times while being there. And they still sent me home, a day after a suicide attempt. They needed my bed. They could see that I was doing like shit and that I had lots of anxiety. But yeah, there are other patients waiting to be treated. Being at the hospital is not for me. It is really hard to be around that many people, patients, staff, cleaners, when you have social anxiety. And I do exactly the same things there as I do at home: I surf on the net, I write, I sleep, I watch TV, I read. So really,  it makes no difference where I am. And I know that if I take the Seroquel, I'll do much worse. All meds have made me worse, why should the Seroquel be any different? Me being worse means me being suicidal. Me being suicidal means me being sent to the hospital, either after a suicide-attempt or because someone realizes how badly I'm doing. I don't want that. And I just know it will be that way, experience tells me. Reason tells me. Statistics tell me. 

I'm not doing so bad right now. I have felt much worse. Right, I'm not sleeping much, I have strong anxiety every now and then. I get into petty fights with my boyfriend. I haven't thought of suicide for a few days now though.  I don't feel that depressed. I have trouble focusing. I don't get my routines done. But still, I have felt worse. So why should I take a medication if I'm not in a very bad state?

There has been some confusion around my diagnosis. I have anxiety-iusses which Seroquel won't help against anyway. My doctor thinks I'm bipolar. But on the package it says that I should take the Seroquel for sleeping and against anxiety. Say what? I thought I was supposed to take it as a mood-stabilizer? I thought I should take it instead of trying out Lithium? I could call my doctor and ask him what he thinks it is for. I know that I want to get rid off the Propavan so maybe that's why I'm supposed to take Seroquel? I could call him and ask him to clarify this for me. But well, I never call others. Social anxiety issue.

And then there is a reason I have discussed with P. He said that I unconsciously don't want to get better. It has to do with my expectations of life. It has to do with my acceptance of my illness. I know that I have lots of potential. I get it to hear that all the time. I have succeeded at university after all. But I know that I'll never be able to use my full potential. So unconsciously I think that it's not worth the fight, worth the side-effects, if I don't get where I want to get: to be a normal healthy human being who can try out her potential, see how far she can get in life. On a scale from one to ten when it comes to functionality I am maybe at a three at the moment. With years of therapy and lots of meds I might be able to reach a 7. But I want to be a ten. And because I know I will never be a ten again, I don't see it worth the fight. I don't want to face the truth, I don't want to accept that seven is all I can get. So I rather stay at a three and and don't face the truth, still hoping for the ten.

So my avoidance-strategies are: 1. Ignore the fact that I have the medication at home, don't think about it, push it away  2. Find arguments that speak against the medication and believe these arguments even though they only come from personal experience 3. Convince myself that I'll end up in the hospital so the fear gets bigger, listen to fear 4. Don't call the doctor to get reassurance and a better explanation, better believe that there is no reason to take it 5. laugh about my own fears (I texted with my social worker the other day and I joked about my fears) 6. Convince myself that I'm just doing fine 7. If I won't get fully functional with it, why even try?

I personally find my avoidant strategies and my arguments quite convincing. But a little little little part of me thinks I'm just a stupid wuss. My psychiatrist is a professional after all, he probably knows what he is doing. Maybe I'll sleep better with it. Wouldn't it be great to finally get rid off the Propavan? I know I should, even though I don't get why I should. This is just fucked up. Fucked up.

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.

Depression - low low low

The last few days I have been really low. My anxiety is stable, somewhere in the middle, not too strong but I can still feel it. I haven't been able to do much at all. I have been in bed way too much, just staring at the ceiling. Every time I closed my eyes I had pictures of the hospital in my head. Pictures of me being restrained, of me being injected medication. When I'm low and depressed my fear of losing it and being sent to the hospital is getting stronger.

I think I'm in the middle of a depression. I guess everything has just gotten too much for me. My parents' divorce, my cousin's suicide-attempt, my boyfriend's father's death. The last few days I've felt like I have been drained of all my energy. I just CAN'T get things done. I don't have the motivation. I just want to be in bed, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to get any attention. I want to be left alone. I want to just lay down and die. Not really die, but just disappear. I don't exercise as I'm supposed to. I can get the easy routines down: I do the dishes, I cook, I take care of my cat. But that's it. I'm constantly close to tears. On top of that  I'm feeling restless in my head. I'm thinking of all the things I should be doing. I'm thinking about how much life sucks. How much I don't contribute. How much I'm a burden. How much I hate myself. I think I'm a fraud. I'm not like everyone else, I can't be human. I really hate myself right now. And I can't focus on anything. My brain-capacity has shrunken. I have terrible nightmares of cats getting tortured and killed in front of me. I am so tired.

I want to do the things I love to do. I still haven't started on the DIY on my jacket although I have everything I need for it at home. I haven't started writing the poem and the text for my psychiatrist's book. I haven't been able to finish writing a long e-mail that is long overdue. Two things I have managed doing during the last two days though: I've started bleaching the parts of my hair that I want to dye purple. So those parts of my hair look orange now. It's not easy to get black hair blonde! And I have sent off the application for Swedish citizenship and the papers needed to be able to get married in Sweden.

It's so weird. I know what I'm doing wrong right now. I understand the circles of my thoughts. I know exactly what to do when I feel like I'm depressed. But I just can't do anything about it. It's like my mind is at war with me. I know that I shouldn't give up and be in bed. I know that these thoughts that I have are not the truth. I know that I'm loved by at least a few people. I know that I'm not stupid. But I can't stop those thoughts! And I can't do anything about the lack of energy and motivation. I'm trying but I just don't succeed. Depression is not something you can think and fight yourself out of on your own. Damn it! I just hope it won't get any worse. If desperation gets mixed up with depression and anxiety it can lead to disaster. 

The other night I had a total breakdown. With crying, screaming and everything else one expects of a breakdown. I had met T, my social worker, in the morning (well, my morning, for others it was early afternoon) and he had tried to talk me into giving Lithium a try. But at the same time he told me about clients he has that got psychotic from that medication. And a woman that gained so much weight that she actually got diabetes. Great. So I read up even more on Lithium, the side-effects and the positive response of some people who are taking it. It's actually not that effective for depression, it's great for mania though. I have never had mania, that is not my problem. I can't deal with any more side-effects. I just can't. I remember when they gave me Abilify at the hospital. I had that little blue pill in my hand and they were waiting for me to swallow it. And all I did was cry. I was sooooooo scared of that pill and the side-effects that it could give me. I eventually took it and some days later I had evolved caged tiger syndrome. I have never felt so restless in my whole life. I haven't taken  a single psych-med (apart from sedatives) that hasn't given me lots of weird and painful side-effects. And I know that Lithium would do the same to me. Maybe I have medication-phobia now?

So the breakdown was about my fear of medication. But it was also about the awareness that I might never get any better. That I have reached a dead end. If I don't take medication I'm stuck with my depression, anxiety, sucidiality. It is not like I refuse to try medication. Last year I tried out two antidepressants and three moodstabilizers. I thought about what my psychiatrist had said to me: that I will never become a functional person, that I will never get any better if I only do therapy. Therapy will have some positive effect on me but it won't "cure" me. I need medication because I have several diagnosis and I have complicated issues. So I freaked out because I know I will never get any better. There is no help out there for me. The thing that will happen is me killing myself eventually. Well, I'm over that breakdown now. But only because I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to think about the lack of help that is out there for me. I don't want to know. I just can't deal with it. I could try out the Diazepam (Valium). I have to anyway so I can tell my psychiatrist next week if it helps or not. But I guess I just never think of taking a sedative when I actually need it. So today I'll wait for the usual anxiety increase I get during the evenings and then take a Diazepam. If you don't hear from me again I probably have died because of some side-effects. Or I have fallen into a coma. Or I am in happy happy land. 

Zombie

It's raining. Really hard rain. And it is warm. I feel like I can't breathe. And I'm so exhausted. I couldn't fall asleep last night. All the time I thought: "Now I'm getting up and I'm going to take a Zoplicone!". But I didn't get up. I fell asleep around 4 a.m. and woke up at 7. I wandered around in the flat for a while, smoking, drinking water, cuddling the cat. I went back to sleep and my cat woke me up at 8.30 a.m.. I don't know why. In the end we fell asleep together, she was on my stomach. I woke up at 11 a.m. and since then I have been trying to get out of a sleepy state. I can barely open my eyes. But my thoughts are still spinning and my heart is beating at a high rate. I feel like I'm drugged, my body is in some kind of stupor. I'll most definitely not take Propavan for a few nights. My sleeping can't get any worse and I won't have such horrible hangovers. I used to be able to accept the hangovers because the pill was working. But without it working why should I endure the hangovers? So sometime next week I'll skip the Propavan for a few days. I know it has a sedative effect too so I guess I'll have increased anxiety. But I have Valium now so I can somehow make it work. 

I have also decided that I need to get things done. I feel like I'm wasting away my days with the internet and TV. I'm often surprised when it's evening and I really haven't done anything productive at all during the day. I'm most creative and productive during the evenings, that's when I write, that's when I do my DIY. But I should fill the days with something too. So I thought about doing a timetable, I have done it before and it worked alright. It would do a lot about the guilt, the feeling of being lazy. I know, it's the anxiety and the depression that's holding me back. But I should at least give it a try. I could clean for instance. Or read. I haven't been reading a lot lately which is totally weird. I love reading. Our apartment is never chaotic but it just isn't clean. We'll see, if not taking the Propavan gives me more energy I can give it a try.

I can't stop thinking and worrying about the whole bipolar and Lithium-thing. I have even been thinking about trying Seroquel again. I only gave it a two days-trial and then gave up on it. The Abilify and the Zyprexa helped but gave me bad side-effects. Maybe the Seroquel will help too? I really should give those thoughts a rest. Not think about it for a few days and then look at it with fresh eyes. I've been hearing and reading so many different things about the Lithium so I really don't know. When it comes to medication it really comes to the individual level, every person reacts to it differently.

I wish my brain would function normally right now. I feel like a zombie. My boyfriend just went out to do some errands. Well, mostly my errands. I needed new glue for my mail art things. But he also needed to go to the pharmacy to fetch his allergy-meds. So I don't have to feel guilty about him going out just for me. I think I'll do the dishes now, then fold the laundry and then try to exercise. I need to get out of this zombie-like state. 

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!