But I guess my brain has other ideas right now.
My doctor has put me on geodon and taken me off the seroquel completely. There’s little sleep. So I had to make a quick appointment with her last week to be seen. She increased the geodon and added Lunesta.
I’m feeling more anxious. And it very well could be due to the lack of sleep. But I’m restless. I go to lay down and my mind starts going, then I have to move. I eventually have to get up. So it’s really no use laying down until I’m absolutely ready to go to sleep.
It’s starting to interfere with my job. I’m too restless at work. I constantly need to do something, but I’m too tired to do it. I can’t concentrate. I feel like I’m a mess.
Hubby tells me that I have a lot going on, and he’s being patient with me which I appreciate. I wish I could be more patient with myself.
So I found a new doctor. Yay! And she listened to me. I don’t feel like they are going to be spending a lot of time with me in the office, which, I’m not sure how I feel about that at the moment. But, my first appointment was great.
So, this time, since it’s a new doctor, and my history of new doctors as of late has been rocky, I took my husband with me for some much needed support. He was able to fill in some gaps when I was floundering for words or when they asked a question that I didn’t know how to answer, super helpful. When they talked about stuff that I was uncomfortable with, he was supportive, took my hand and made sure I was OK. Again, super great. We didn’t talk much about the borderline personality disorder, which I am still a little upset about, I like to talk about my diagnosis more with doctors. They didn’t even talk to me about my diagnosis, I told them what I had been diagnosed with, told them my history, we answered a long questionnaire, and answered her questions. At the end of the first session, they hand me a sheet of paper that has the new diagnosis on there. This is after we discussed medications. So new diagnosis are as follows, so far: Bipolar 2, generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, and PTSD, again……… I don’t like when they put the PTSD on there, because yes, the rape happened, and the abuse happened, but I don’t feel like that’s a part of who I am anymore. I don’t have flashbacks anymore, I don’t have nightmares. It’s just not who I am. Or at least I don’t think so.
So the new meds are working out ok. Except that it’s 3 am and I’m writing a blog post and I’m tired but not sleepy. And I’ve had a headache for 2 days, but I’m not sure if that’s the meds or something else at this point. I’ve been prescribed geodon at 40 mg. At first they had me taking it with the seroquel 100 mg, and I would wake up super slow and sleepy. And would be falling asleep at work, like standing up falling asleep. So they cut the seroquel to 50 mg. Still sleepy, not as bad, but still sleepy. Like still falling asleep at work, but if I kept walking I would be somewhat ok. So now they have it where I’m just taking the geodon without the seroquel. I’m still taking topamax. And I have ativan for emergencies. So now, if I could just get some sleep that would be great!
Mood wise, I feel fine. I might be in a manic state right now. Maybe that’s why I’m not sleeping? I’m also having hot flashes. I’m not sure if that’s my hormones acting up or the med.
Hopefully I will get some sleep soon.
After a week of being in the hospital, I’m home.
I’m flattered that my co-host, Amber, was nice enough to post for me. I had asked her to at least update everyone, I know that my posts had been very depressive and upsetting and maybe unsettling. I didn’t want people to think that I had actually killed myself or something. I also appreciate all the kind words that everyone voiced. Thank you.
I am home now. I’m happy and nervous at the same time. I missed home. I missed my husband and my dogs and the comfort of my own bed. But I knew that I needed help, more than my family or my therapist could give.
I’ve always struggled with depression and the thoughts of suicide. What scared me the most was how violent the thoughts were. They were vivid and loud. And it was overwhelming.
As you can remember, I didn’t want to go to therapy, but I went. And I had my husband with me for support. I told my counselor about how bad the week before was. She looked at me with concern and asked if I had a plan. I had. She asked me what I thought about hospitalization. I told her that it was exactly what I didn’t want to do. I was afraid of it. It terrified me. There was no way. But we brought Hubby back in and she asked him about hospitalization. He thought that maybe it would be good.
They called to see if a bed was available. There was. They wanted to meet me at Weatherford to be assessed.
I was terrified. Crying. Screaming inside. This is not what I wanted. Hubby told them that we would think about it.
On the way home, I asked why he thought it would be good. Get me stabilized. I agreed. I wanted to go.
We got everything ready. It was harder than I thought. I cried. A lot. Packing was harder than I thought. It felt like giving up. Everyone kept telling me that it wasn’t giving up, it was something good.
The whole time, I was concerned about family. I didn’t know how to tell Mom. I didn’t know how to tell anyone. I talked to Amber. She was supportive.
I met my sister in Fort Worth. She said that she would tell mom.
When we got to the hospital, it was scary. I was with Hubby in the waiting area, and they did another assessment when we went back on the unit. I was scared and crying. Hubby was supportive.
I finally got in my room at 1 am. It was after they did a strip search. It was scary. They didn’t see me naked, but they took my clothes and searched them. I guess for drugs and sharp objects. For safety. I understood, but it was scary. They also wanted a urine sample, again scary.
So, there I was, in a strange room, dark, with a stranger in another bed, who had just been yelling because we woke her up. I fell into a, surprisingly, restful sleep… Only to be awoke at 5 am because I needed to see the doctor.
I didn’t even see the doctor, they took my blood. I sat there in the day room wondering what I was going to do.
I did get to see the psychiatrist. It was around lunch time. Yes, I know that I skipped over most of the morning, trust me when I say that nothing exciting happened. I think I slept.
The first meeting with the psychiatrist lasted all of two minutes I believe. I sat down, looking nervously at the big man sitting in the corner with my chart. He looked at me, said “22 year old female who cuts herself, you must have some unresolved sexual issues. Am I right?” I just nodded, I had been abused, I guess, as a child, there are thinks that I don’t remember. And then there was that rape. So, yea, ok I could agree to that. He prescribed medications. Sent me on my way.
That’s basically how the first two days went. He increased my meds the second day I think. And constantly asked me about my unresolved issues, had I worked on them? No. The reason I don’t like him, “I talk about things you don’t like to talk about.” ok….
So I finally I started going to groups, making friends. Yada yada.
I’m more stable now. I feel pretty good. I’m staying home from work. But I’m ok.
I have a final diagnosis of MDD (Major Depressive Disorder) Recurrent, severe without psychosis. And PTSD, he actually called it something like PTSD with deflective or defective sense of self — I can’t remember which, because I couldn’t understand him most of the time (not because he had an accent, I just think that it was because I was tired and nervous.
For the record, I have another appointment with a different psychiatrist on the 30th of this month. I’m needing him for maintenance of my medications, and probably further diagnosis. Hopefully, this will be one that I can understand and talk to for more than just a minute or two.
So, that’s it. I’m back. 🙂
I’m rewriting this for my family, so that they might understand better. I don’t want you to be scared, or hurt. But I want you to understand what I deal with on a daily basis. This takes a lot of courage, because I’m baring my soul here. There’s not a lot of people that will understand. Just please don’t judge, try to read with an open mind.
I hope that when you read this, you don’t feel pity, but you become more understanding. It’s not a quick fix. It takes time to heal. Therapy helps, praying helps (religion doesn’t fix everything, sorry), BUT medicine helps too. You have to remember that this is chemical. My brain isn’t releasing enough “happy” chemicals to balance the others. That’s why they call it a “chemical imbalance”. Depression is not my fault or a weakness. It affects at least 1 in 10 people. That’s a lot.