The night before last I was telling my husband that I think I would be fine to go off medication. I told him that I'm really fine and I really probably don't need it. That I really don't want to take medication so I was thinking about going off. If you have read any of my blog you would gather that I really do not like the idea of "needing" medication one bit. I want to be fine on my own.
I know that it is a typical response for many that take medication to get to the point where they feel fine and have enjoyed some stability to then think that they really don't need medication and stop taking it. I know this but still my response to my husband with all that he would say when explaining that he really didn't think it a good idea was that I was really just being a hypochondriac of some pathetic sort and that's all. Really I am fine it was just due to this or that as to why I was such a freak before but now I can see it for what it was and I am fine.
Well you'd think that I'd have learned by now.
But then yesterday I had an appointment with the psychiatrist. It went well and he was very happy with the result and how I was doing (I like that he was happy for me, not just for the results)....
But then we got to my giraffe patches.
What are giraffe patches you ask?
Well no one really knows.
I'll do my best to explain. In about March or so I noticed a circle on the side of my torso. It looked like some one had stuck a suction of some sort (you know how it works, suction on the skin and leave the red circle. A common gag that people will pull leaving a red embarrassing mark on the chin or what have you). I thought it weird because I couldn't figure out where it came from. So I watched it. It didn't go away. Then I started noticing other "circles" only some were oblong and they were various sizes. At that point I believe there were five ranging from about an inch in diameter to one that stretched from my shoulder blade to the center of my chest in front. They are a very faint red outline. They are not elevated, scaly, itchy, or anything else. Just a faint red outline. Oh, and they grow. As they grow there shape does not stay so circular but change to shapes that resemble something more like the shapes of a giraffe spots (not the color, color stays the same). But unlike a giraffe they will actually converge with each other. Now these lovely spots are rather faint and limited to being only places hidden by clothing on my torso. Like I said, they do not itch or bother me in any way. I did call the psychiatrist office when I first noticed them (per the medication disclosures request) but they did not recognize them as symptoms of any major problems due to medication but strongly suggested I see a dermatologist. Which I did and he was baffled (though he was a seasoned PA) but not super concerned. So I haven't worried. However they are reproducing and I have quite a few more.
Back to my appointment with the psychiatrist. He was concerned. Something about it possibly being an indication of other potential problems, I don't know. But he suggested that I go off the Lamictal very slowly, stay off it for a few weeks and see if the "spots" go away. I guess said drug can effect the skin and apparently he is concerned about it if it is obviously getting worse.
You might assume that I was happy to have permission to taper off. I would have assumed it. But after having the conversation with him about how well I was doing and the conversation with the husband the night before, I suppose I recognized a thing or two and I was not supper thrilled with the idea of going off... just yet. Rather I was quite nervous about it. I like the way that I feel these days and I guess that outweighs my desire to not take medication.
But the doctor said it would be the prudent thing to do.
He concurred with me trying to go off the antidepressant first just to see if it might be a combination of the two that might be the culprit. Though he didn't seem to think it was too likely I think we are both hopeful that maybe just maybe that will work (and I will loose my giraffe spots).
Well I guess we will see.
Here is to a new adventure!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
a high schoolers longing for death
Sometimes when I start cleaning and going through things, finding new homes for stuff, I find junk from my past. Today I found a binder containing some Jr. high and high school English papers and other writing assignments.
In one particular high school project I mention death and dying at least three separate times. All three are obviously in reference to me dying and one specifically mentions my desire to die.
I know that nothing ever came of this but I wonder how common it is for high school students to write about death and their desires for it that it would not raise some concern suggesting to the teacher that maybe they should recommend the child to someone or at least mention it to their parents?
In one particular high school project I mention death and dying at least three separate times. All three are obviously in reference to me dying and one specifically mentions my desire to die.
I know that nothing ever came of this but I wonder how common it is for high school students to write about death and their desires for it that it would not raise some concern suggesting to the teacher that maybe they should recommend the child to someone or at least mention it to their parents?
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I mean to write more on this thing more often then I do anymore. Honestly lately I lack the motivation and desire, mostly because I do feel so normal. But I am being a bit of a bum right now getting sidetracked by the computer so I might as well write something right?
Though I know that I am really truly not normal and never will be (I say this with presumptious sarcasm because I know there is really no such thing as normal anyway) I must say I rather like feeling so "normal."
I like that I am stable. I am curious about my "lack of spirituality" but I am glad to not be floating so far off into outerspace and sinking down into the depths of hell as well.
Really I am rather boring any more and yet I am totally ok with that.
The other day I awoke to the slight feeling of darkness that I used to know so well. Then didn't realize how crappy it really was. It was slight and likely due to a few days of not going to bed when I should have and some of the stresses that are not ussual daily stresses.
It was a good reminder.
I visited my parents and the room that my brother died in recently.
It was hard.
It is hard to think about my brother and how he died. In my current mental state I have less comfort about what happened. I forget that I understand how and what can happen so easily. That little shadow of darkness helped me remember.
I know that what if's and I wish I had's accomplish nothing... Uneless you do something that may be able to help someone else suffering somewhere else with or from something similar. For that I really really wish that I could have somehow let my brother know how bad it was and how good it really could be. How some of those feelings and darknesses that we accept as part of who we, are and often attempt to self medicate in so many other ways, really are something else that we really don't have to tolerate or suffer through. I wish he could see, feel and know how much better, happier and so much easier life could be...
... it is sad to know that I can't.
It was heartbreaking to read his diary and see how much he really was suffering. To see the signs that now, knowing what I know, would seem so very obvious.
It had been such a long time that he struggled that he could not seperate it from who he was. Our lack of understanding and acceptance of mental disoders and illness's really did cost him his life in so many ways, more then just the physical end. He was not a depressed person but he did have depression and battled it tenaciously. And his pendulum would swing, whether that was due to a very strong solder who was fighting just depression or if it was something altogether different who really knows but he did fight the lows and he did still find ways to enjoy life and he most certianly had highs. He also had ruminating, possibly obsessive, thought patterns that were very obvious as well. But he tried so hard to be all that he could be and yet in the end he had no idea how bad his own illness/disorder was even though he was aware of it. He had no idea how bad it was becasue he had never come completely out of it. He had not had the opportunity to experience what I am now enjoying. He never got to completely loose touch with that suicidal default and realize how foriegn and strange such a mental state of being really is.
what more can I say?...
Though I know that I am really truly not normal and never will be (I say this with presumptious sarcasm because I know there is really no such thing as normal anyway) I must say I rather like feeling so "normal."
I like that I am stable. I am curious about my "lack of spirituality" but I am glad to not be floating so far off into outerspace and sinking down into the depths of hell as well.
Really I am rather boring any more and yet I am totally ok with that.
The other day I awoke to the slight feeling of darkness that I used to know so well. Then didn't realize how crappy it really was. It was slight and likely due to a few days of not going to bed when I should have and some of the stresses that are not ussual daily stresses.
It was a good reminder.
I visited my parents and the room that my brother died in recently.
It was hard.
It is hard to think about my brother and how he died. In my current mental state I have less comfort about what happened. I forget that I understand how and what can happen so easily. That little shadow of darkness helped me remember.
I know that what if's and I wish I had's accomplish nothing... Uneless you do something that may be able to help someone else suffering somewhere else with or from something similar. For that I really really wish that I could have somehow let my brother know how bad it was and how good it really could be. How some of those feelings and darknesses that we accept as part of who we, are and often attempt to self medicate in so many other ways, really are something else that we really don't have to tolerate or suffer through. I wish he could see, feel and know how much better, happier and so much easier life could be...
... it is sad to know that I can't.
It was heartbreaking to read his diary and see how much he really was suffering. To see the signs that now, knowing what I know, would seem so very obvious.
It had been such a long time that he struggled that he could not seperate it from who he was. Our lack of understanding and acceptance of mental disoders and illness's really did cost him his life in so many ways, more then just the physical end. He was not a depressed person but he did have depression and battled it tenaciously. And his pendulum would swing, whether that was due to a very strong solder who was fighting just depression or if it was something altogether different who really knows but he did fight the lows and he did still find ways to enjoy life and he most certianly had highs. He also had ruminating, possibly obsessive, thought patterns that were very obvious as well. But he tried so hard to be all that he could be and yet in the end he had no idea how bad his own illness/disorder was even though he was aware of it. He had no idea how bad it was becasue he had never come completely out of it. He had not had the opportunity to experience what I am now enjoying. He never got to completely loose touch with that suicidal default and realize how foriegn and strange such a mental state of being really is.
what more can I say?...
Thursday, June 3, 2010
identity
Everyday, before I really start my day I take a pill. Every night before I go to bed I take another (different) pill.
Sometimes I am unsure if this is really who I am "supposed" to be or who I am. I have to look back and remember who I "was" and then I am mostly OK with it again.
I have lost some intensity. I care a lot less about many things. I have gotten lazy in many ways and my brain seems slow and more forgetful... But then again...
Yesterday a friend told me that I think creatively. That I seem to look at things at all angles and I can analyze things form inside and outside of the box. I told her that I felt like I was losing that. But the consensus was that though it has in fact lessened (the depth, frequency, and intensity of my thinking and analytical skills) she reassured me that I still think "creatively."
To me it is nice to hear people say "I never thought of it that way." Especially if it is ended with a "thank you."
Not what I thought I would write today but sometimes our lives, our hands and our minds take us places we did not intend to go and sometimes that is OK.
Sometimes I am unsure if this is really who I am "supposed" to be or who I am. I have to look back and remember who I "was" and then I am mostly OK with it again.
I have lost some intensity. I care a lot less about many things. I have gotten lazy in many ways and my brain seems slow and more forgetful... But then again...
Yesterday a friend told me that I think creatively. That I seem to look at things at all angles and I can analyze things form inside and outside of the box. I told her that I felt like I was losing that. But the consensus was that though it has in fact lessened (the depth, frequency, and intensity of my thinking and analytical skills) she reassured me that I still think "creatively."
To me it is nice to hear people say "I never thought of it that way." Especially if it is ended with a "thank you."
Not what I thought I would write today but sometimes our lives, our hands and our minds take us places we did not intend to go and sometimes that is OK.
Monday, May 10, 2010
oh the places we will go
I feel inclined to write often. I intend to write on very good days, but that rarely seems to happen. It seems that I manage to make time and make it a priority on the not so happy days anymore...
So I suppose it goes without saying that I am not so up today (but I'll say it anyway).
I am over all fine and happy enough most of the time. I am glad to have rather steady and much more consistent moods and personalities (yes, that is meant to be plural). But sometimes I wonder and sometimes I am not sure if this (my metal state) is where I am meant to be. Sometimes I feel anxiety sneaking in, trying to reestablish it's regular presence. Sometimes I miss the more intense ups in their various forms. Sometimes I am not sure if "this is normal" or do I need to up a dose before my brain gets too far ahead of me.
Over all I am glad. I think it very likely that my shorter hours spent sleeping and the way that I have been able to safely let my guard down in so many ways is starting to catch up as I may have let it down a bit too much (as it so often goes), but only a bit . I suppose things are always going to be a bit more complicated. But then again I think the psychology of every individual is very complicated and in that I am no different. I must say that, if anything, I am lucky to be so aware of mine and how to handle myself realizing my weaknesses and knowing the boundaries and when I am getting to close. I think in many ways I am probably ahead of the game. Maybe I am overly confident but I have had a lot of practice...
Yet, then again, who knows what age has in store for me.
Life is always an adventure. One Grand Adventure
and I intend to enjoy.
So I suppose it goes without saying that I am not so up today (but I'll say it anyway).
I am over all fine and happy enough most of the time. I am glad to have rather steady and much more consistent moods and personalities (yes, that is meant to be plural). But sometimes I wonder and sometimes I am not sure if this (my metal state) is where I am meant to be. Sometimes I feel anxiety sneaking in, trying to reestablish it's regular presence. Sometimes I miss the more intense ups in their various forms. Sometimes I am not sure if "this is normal" or do I need to up a dose before my brain gets too far ahead of me.
Over all I am glad. I think it very likely that my shorter hours spent sleeping and the way that I have been able to safely let my guard down in so many ways is starting to catch up as I may have let it down a bit too much (as it so often goes), but only a bit . I suppose things are always going to be a bit more complicated. But then again I think the psychology of every individual is very complicated and in that I am no different. I must say that, if anything, I am lucky to be so aware of mine and how to handle myself realizing my weaknesses and knowing the boundaries and when I am getting to close. I think in many ways I am probably ahead of the game. Maybe I am overly confident but I have had a lot of practice...
Yet, then again, who knows what age has in store for me.
Life is always an adventure. One Grand Adventure
and I intend to enjoy.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
here today, gone tomorrow
I feel like writing, though it has been awhile and likely nobody reads this anymore anyway. that is the beauty of this world wide web, you can write to your hearts content, pretending there is someone out there listening, and hoping that maybe just maybe you will make a difference somewhere to somebody...
What a great outlet we have in the Internet. See I feel better already.
I have been thinking as well as not thinking and at times trying not to think. Anxiety is creeping back in. It may be that I am a bit tired. It is nice that I can stay up much later and not crash (or explode) multiple times the next day... but then maybe that is how it sneaks up on one. Hypersensitive at least keeps things from sneaking.
I am feeling rather hollow...
I think about my brother everyday. I went for awhile with out. There was a bit of time where when I did think about him I believed he was fine and when I would remember that he had died I was sure it was just a weird dream. It wasn't real and I liked it that way... Until I'd see the plants in the living room and the few little things that I have out, like the little framed picture my other brother gave each of us of him (deceased brother) as a boy on one of our family camping trips in a dry field holding matches (that was (name with held)him) and then it has to be real. Though I still really didn't believe, sometimes certain the plants had come from somewhere else. When I found the picture and poems that were a tribute to him for his funeral that is when I lost it. I put that out. I suppose I should live in the "real world" and remember what really happened. But I don't want to.
It bothers me.
Once a doctor said something about religion/my beliefs keeping me alive (instead of actually killing myself when that was really the only thing that made any sense at all). He said something about others of the similar backgrounds claiming that. But I am bit different (the Dr. has also told me that) and truth be known I believe it is said religious convictions that contribute as much as the detract from the desire to die. Sometimes religion bothers me. I see the need and understand and all that, I even agree with much, but lately I am tired of feeling like we live only to die.
I am tired of everything being about an afterlife. I am tired of feeling like I have to do and be so much more then I am.
I wonder if my brother ever felt any of these things. I wonder how much feelings of, being a failure and/or wanting to be done with it because we are merely living to die anyway and since he knew he was so far from "perfect" then what is the point and he felt done, contributed to his current condition.
I am not done. I am just tired of living to die.
I am mad that my brother shot himself in the head.
I am annoyed that I take drugs everyday just to feel like this and yet not taking them is so much more annoying or at least difficult.
I want to run away to my warm sunny beaches with mountains behind me and forget about everything and everyone...
well I suppose I feel a bit better now pretending that my voice and heart might be heard.
good night sweet Internet world.
What a great outlet we have in the Internet. See I feel better already.
I have been thinking as well as not thinking and at times trying not to think. Anxiety is creeping back in. It may be that I am a bit tired. It is nice that I can stay up much later and not crash (or explode) multiple times the next day... but then maybe that is how it sneaks up on one. Hypersensitive at least keeps things from sneaking.
I am feeling rather hollow...
I think about my brother everyday. I went for awhile with out. There was a bit of time where when I did think about him I believed he was fine and when I would remember that he had died I was sure it was just a weird dream. It wasn't real and I liked it that way... Until I'd see the plants in the living room and the few little things that I have out, like the little framed picture my other brother gave each of us of him (deceased brother) as a boy on one of our family camping trips in a dry field holding matches (that was (name with held)him) and then it has to be real. Though I still really didn't believe, sometimes certain the plants had come from somewhere else. When I found the picture and poems that were a tribute to him for his funeral that is when I lost it. I put that out. I suppose I should live in the "real world" and remember what really happened. But I don't want to.
It bothers me.
Once a doctor said something about religion/my beliefs keeping me alive (instead of actually killing myself when that was really the only thing that made any sense at all). He said something about others of the similar backgrounds claiming that. But I am bit different (the Dr. has also told me that) and truth be known I believe it is said religious convictions that contribute as much as the detract from the desire to die. Sometimes religion bothers me. I see the need and understand and all that, I even agree with much, but lately I am tired of feeling like we live only to die.
I am tired of everything being about an afterlife. I am tired of feeling like I have to do and be so much more then I am.
I wonder if my brother ever felt any of these things. I wonder how much feelings of, being a failure and/or wanting to be done with it because we are merely living to die anyway and since he knew he was so far from "perfect" then what is the point and he felt done, contributed to his current condition.
I am not done. I am just tired of living to die.
I am mad that my brother shot himself in the head.
I am annoyed that I take drugs everyday just to feel like this and yet not taking them is so much more annoying or at least difficult.
I want to run away to my warm sunny beaches with mountains behind me and forget about everything and everyone...
well I suppose I feel a bit better now pretending that my voice and heart might be heard.
good night sweet Internet world.
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