Over the summer, my awesome, amazing psychiatrist left the clinic. I was turned out to find one on my own. One I found one that was taking new patients and took my insurance, it was December for my intake. My actual psych appointment wasn't until March 4. And then he started me on Cymbalta.
Since then, it's been a living nightmare. My depression gradually got worse. I called when I was supposed to bump it up to 60 mg from 30 mg informing them, they told me to just stick it out. The prior authorization has not been done. Bumping it up to 60 increased my chronic pain and spiraled me so deep into depression I started having suicidal thoughts. Just getting out of bed is currently a struggle.
I saw pain management on Wednesday. They asked how I was tolerating the Cymbalta, I told them it was making my pain and depression worse. I was told that I just *thought* I was more depressed and depressed, because I wasn't acting depressed. That comment, as stupid as I know it was, pushed me further down because I feel like my doctors don't care and don't take me seriously.
It sucks to deal with depression. It sucks to deal with chronic pain. It sucks when both are acting up at the same time, and your damn doctors don't take you seriously. My physical therapist, thank goodness, is looking into getting me pain meds as I scored 71% on the disability index. I need them. But that doesn't help the depression. I am going to go through withdrawl next week, because the prior auth has not been done and the med is FREAKING EXPENSIVE.
I'm scared. I'm really scared. I haven't been this depressed in a long time, and it could be a long ass fight to see a doctor again. He wanted me back in 3-4 weeks, the next opening was TEN WEEKS away. I likely can't find a new one in that period of time. I'm scared. I'm terrified. I hate how this is making me feel, but when I don't take it I feel fuzzy and out-of-body and weird. But I'm going to have to, because I'm going to have to stop cold turkey. I'm scared of what's going to happen to me. I'm worried about the future.I don't know what's going to happen to me. I'm terrified.
22.3.13
18.3.13
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?
I have a recurring dream. It's the one where I'm diagnosed with cancer. It was worse than usual this time, as it went as far as finding out it was terminal and I starting picking out how I wanted my memorial service being done. I have the cancer dream every now and then, and every time I have it, a bunch of crap hits the fan and everything falls to shreds. It's scary.
It has me really worried. Looking at repeat back surgery, looking at a lupus, RA, or MS diagnosis in the near future, getting hit with three major illnesses this semester so far (influenza twice, and a lovely strep/bronchitis/upper respiratory combo). It has be freaking terrified of what's going to happen next.
I don't know what to do.
It has me really worried. Looking at repeat back surgery, looking at a lupus, RA, or MS diagnosis in the near future, getting hit with three major illnesses this semester so far (influenza twice, and a lovely strep/bronchitis/upper respiratory combo). It has be freaking terrified of what's going to happen next.
I don't know what to do.
10.3.13
I don't remember the first time I felt unbeautiful, the day I chose not to eat
They pull up the chairs to the table,
She looks at the food on her plate
At the toast and the butter, her father and mother
She pushes away
And they rise in the morning, and they sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
She gets home from school too early
And closes the door to her room
There's nothing inside her, she's weak and she's tired
Of feeling like this
And they rise in the morning, and they sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
They call her for dinner,
She makes up a reason,
She looks at her arms and she rolls down her sleeves
And her mother is starting to see through her lies
And last night night her father had tears in his eyes....
And they rise in morning, and they sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
And we rise in the morning, and we sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
-Lisa Loeb, "She's Falling Apart."
This song from 2002 sums up life with an eating disorder well, I think.
Eating disorders, like many other disorders, do not discriminate. Rich and poor, black and white, male and female, it doesn't matter. Eating disorders strike, and they are deadly. EVERYONE CAN SUFFER. Read: This Child
An eating disorder isn't something you have just for a couple weeks, it's something you battle for months, years, for some people - a lifetime.
Want to know some scary facts? You don't have to be underweight to DIE from an eating disorder. That's right. Many people think that if they aren't underweight, they aren't in the danger zones. You think you can stop before it gets out of control, that this is your way of control? One day, what you are controlling will in turn control you. Eating disorders are not just about food. Lord, if it were it'd be simple, wouldn't it? It's about starving, LITERALLY, for perfection. Starving for control. It can be a form of self injury. You can't wrap eating disorders up with a tidy-little bow.
EATING DISORDERS SUCK.
By the way, if you want to support eating disorder awareness, please consider sponsoring me in the NEDA walk in Minneapolis. In fact, if you live in the Twin Cities metro, please consider joining my team, as well!
She looks at the food on her plate
At the toast and the butter, her father and mother
She pushes away
And they rise in the morning, and they sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
She gets home from school too early
And closes the door to her room
There's nothing inside her, she's weak and she's tired
Of feeling like this
And they rise in the morning, and they sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
They call her for dinner,
She makes up a reason,
She looks at her arms and she rolls down her sleeves
And her mother is starting to see through her lies
And last night night her father had tears in his eyes....
And they rise in morning, and they sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
And we rise in the morning, and we sleep in the dark
And even though nobody's looking, she's falling apart
-Lisa Loeb, "She's Falling Apart."
This song from 2002 sums up life with an eating disorder well, I think.
Eating disorders, like many other disorders, do not discriminate. Rich and poor, black and white, male and female, it doesn't matter. Eating disorders strike, and they are deadly. EVERYONE CAN SUFFER. Read: This Child
An eating disorder isn't something you have just for a couple weeks, it's something you battle for months, years, for some people - a lifetime.
Want to know some scary facts? You don't have to be underweight to DIE from an eating disorder. That's right. Many people think that if they aren't underweight, they aren't in the danger zones. You think you can stop before it gets out of control, that this is your way of control? One day, what you are controlling will in turn control you. Eating disorders are not just about food. Lord, if it were it'd be simple, wouldn't it? It's about starving, LITERALLY, for perfection. Starving for control. It can be a form of self injury. You can't wrap eating disorders up with a tidy-little bow.
EATING DISORDERS SUCK.
By the way, if you want to support eating disorder awareness, please consider sponsoring me in the NEDA walk in Minneapolis. In fact, if you live in the Twin Cities metro, please consider joining my team, as well!
15.2.13
Sometimes I Hear My Voice
At times I wonder how long it will be until I can tell my story. There are aspects that no one knows - that I wonder if anyone will ever know. There are aspects that maybe one person know. And it's scary - it's scary how easily I put walls up, how easily I retreat inside myself, how easily I hide. It's scary watching my health fall apart, watching my life fall apart.
It's scary having diagnosis after another pile up and just feel so freaking HELPLESS as everything falls to pieces. It's terrifying to watch my mental health shatter and so badly want to do something, but I can't. It sucks wanting a dad again, wanting someone who's not an epic asshat to protect me, but knowing that's not possible.
I think that's what's killing me the most lately. I want a Dad I can call and tell him how poorly my health is, a dad I can update on the antidepressant situation. I want a Dad I can tell that I made homemade pizza for supper and then had a glass a milk. I want a Dad I can tell I'm being referred to yet another specialist. But I haven't had that since 2005 and I'll never get that back. AND IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR.
Why can't I have a Dad, too?
It's scary having diagnosis after another pile up and just feel so freaking HELPLESS as everything falls to pieces. It's terrifying to watch my mental health shatter and so badly want to do something, but I can't. It sucks wanting a dad again, wanting someone who's not an epic asshat to protect me, but knowing that's not possible.
I think that's what's killing me the most lately. I want a Dad I can call and tell him how poorly my health is, a dad I can update on the antidepressant situation. I want a Dad I can tell that I made homemade pizza for supper and then had a glass a milk. I want a Dad I can tell I'm being referred to yet another specialist. But I haven't had that since 2005 and I'll never get that back. AND IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR.
Why can't I have a Dad, too?
31.1.13
Ministry Major Malaise
I wish that I could write a post that fully shows how much depression sucks. I wish that there was a way I could let you take a peek into my world and what it's like living in this world. A world where you don't trust anyone, lest of all yourself. A world where it's like you're reaching and grasping for something, a shred, a spark, but perhaps it just doesn't exist. A world where it feels like a game of Jenga, and that you never know if the next block being removed will cause you to wobble, collapse, or stay sturdy.
But yet, I'm taking a break from writing about depression to try and write about something else. Because it all interlinks together. It all fits together, somehow, someway. It all overlaps and it's all a part of the same puzzle.
I'll be honest, I haven't talked a lot about my week at IHOP. How it completely shattered my faith. How in so many ways, it screwed up how I view God. How it completely broke me. How it played mind games with me. How I went on such an emotional roller coaster. And frankly? I feel stupid! HOW could one week, "onething", affect me so deeply? It was just a week, for God's sake! There's no reason it should have shattered my faith so badly, that it should have so badly demented how I see God. There's no reason, and I beat myself up constantly for it. I know who God is. I know logically, I know all the facts, but convincing my heart to believe what my head knows is a struggle.
I find myself on the brink of self injury. Why, you say? Your scars are fading. You've been free for so long. Why would you throw all that away for just a few moments of solace, of false serenity, of bittersweet relief? IT HELPS. It lets me out of my inner hell, my inner demons, for just a little while, and that is help enough. It's not worth it in the long run, but sometimes we do things that aren't worth it in the long run just because we don't know better. But no, how dare I ruin God's temple. How dare I screw up the gift God gave me. How dare I turn to myself! I'm a pathetic excuse for a Christian because allegedly His blood was enough so I don't need to shed my own. (You will see how this relates, I hope, and this paragraph isn't just random).
I'm struggling to keep my head afloat. I'm struggling to keep normal sleep patterns, eating patterns, living patterns. I find myself escaping to books, video games, TV shows, and movies just to try and get a break from my brain, from my crazy self. And what I hate the most? Several years ago, I'd turn to God. Several years ago, I'd pray. Several years ago, I'd find refuge in my faith. And now I don't. Now my faith, the very thing I'm studying in college, the very thing I desire more than anything to do with my life, is what is scaring me and plummeting me deeper into the pits of despair. I find myself angry at God: angry at Him for allowing that week, angry at Him for allowing all the hellish moments of my life. Then I get angry at myself for getting angry at God because who am I to be so angry at Him? I find myself angry from events at old churches that shook, shattered, and tore my faith to shreds. I find myself furious of what people do in the alleged name of God, the horrible hurtful things they do - some intend to hurt, some because people are just sometimes dunderheads.
And yet, I hurt myself. Because I see how I am not worthy. I see how I am a bad Christian, and maybe all those terrible lies I believe in reality are true. Maybe there's a reason I went through those various church and ministry-place-related struggles, because they're the truth. Logically, I know that's a bunch of bullcrap, but who said my brain is always logical?
And worst of all, I'm terrified. What if I make some mistake in the ministry? What if I totally screw someone up, shake their faith, tear their soul to shreds? How would I ever live with myself? What if I mess someone up as badly as I was messed up? Am I being rational? Am I irrational? Would I have these fears if it were not for how badly I've been hurt "in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?" What would church pastors say to me? What would fellow Christians say to me? What would atheists say to me?
It's difficult. I've been hurt in so many ways, by so many people. And an age-old saying is "hurting people hurt people." What if... what if I hurt someone? What if my hurt ruins someone else? Is it just a vicious cycle that will never be ended?
But yet, I'm taking a break from writing about depression to try and write about something else. Because it all interlinks together. It all fits together, somehow, someway. It all overlaps and it's all a part of the same puzzle.
I'll be honest, I haven't talked a lot about my week at IHOP. How it completely shattered my faith. How in so many ways, it screwed up how I view God. How it completely broke me. How it played mind games with me. How I went on such an emotional roller coaster. And frankly? I feel stupid! HOW could one week, "onething", affect me so deeply? It was just a week, for God's sake! There's no reason it should have shattered my faith so badly, that it should have so badly demented how I see God. There's no reason, and I beat myself up constantly for it. I know who God is. I know logically, I know all the facts, but convincing my heart to believe what my head knows is a struggle.
I find myself on the brink of self injury. Why, you say? Your scars are fading. You've been free for so long. Why would you throw all that away for just a few moments of solace, of false serenity, of bittersweet relief? IT HELPS. It lets me out of my inner hell, my inner demons, for just a little while, and that is help enough. It's not worth it in the long run, but sometimes we do things that aren't worth it in the long run just because we don't know better. But no, how dare I ruin God's temple. How dare I screw up the gift God gave me. How dare I turn to myself! I'm a pathetic excuse for a Christian because allegedly His blood was enough so I don't need to shed my own. (You will see how this relates, I hope, and this paragraph isn't just random).
I'm struggling to keep my head afloat. I'm struggling to keep normal sleep patterns, eating patterns, living patterns. I find myself escaping to books, video games, TV shows, and movies just to try and get a break from my brain, from my crazy self. And what I hate the most? Several years ago, I'd turn to God. Several years ago, I'd pray. Several years ago, I'd find refuge in my faith. And now I don't. Now my faith, the very thing I'm studying in college, the very thing I desire more than anything to do with my life, is what is scaring me and plummeting me deeper into the pits of despair. I find myself angry at God: angry at Him for allowing that week, angry at Him for allowing all the hellish moments of my life. Then I get angry at myself for getting angry at God because who am I to be so angry at Him? I find myself angry from events at old churches that shook, shattered, and tore my faith to shreds. I find myself furious of what people do in the alleged name of God, the horrible hurtful things they do - some intend to hurt, some because people are just sometimes dunderheads.
And yet, I hurt myself. Because I see how I am not worthy. I see how I am a bad Christian, and maybe all those terrible lies I believe in reality are true. Maybe there's a reason I went through those various church and ministry-place-related struggles, because they're the truth. Logically, I know that's a bunch of bullcrap, but who said my brain is always logical?
And worst of all, I'm terrified. What if I make some mistake in the ministry? What if I totally screw someone up, shake their faith, tear their soul to shreds? How would I ever live with myself? What if I mess someone up as badly as I was messed up? Am I being rational? Am I irrational? Would I have these fears if it were not for how badly I've been hurt "in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?" What would church pastors say to me? What would fellow Christians say to me? What would atheists say to me?
It's difficult. I've been hurt in so many ways, by so many people. And an age-old saying is "hurting people hurt people." What if... what if I hurt someone? What if my hurt ruins someone else? Is it just a vicious cycle that will never be ended?
25.1.13
Because reason says I should have died three years ago
I haven't been suicidal in a long, long time and of that, I'm glad. But at the same time, I still feel overwhelming pain. At times I want to cease to exist: not die, per se, but not exactly live either. I want to find a state where I can just be nothing. Feel nothing. See nothing. Hear nothing. Just for a break from myself. Just for a time out from life.
And I'm scared. What if I'm this way forever? What if it never changes? What is this is truly all there is?
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