Days of the Week

She wrote semi-legibly!

Since I started high school, Tuesdays and Thursdays have always been busy for me. First it was because my doctor only comes in to the hospital on Tuesdays, then it was because play rehearsal was always, always on a Thursday. It's a little different now, I spend my Thursdays at the Shoniker Clinic for Group.

I start Day Hospital on Monday. I am so scared...not of the program itself, but of where my life is going. Five days a week at Shoniker, one night, and two days where I go through the tunnel to see Dr. Gerstein and Larry-the-Social-Worker. But naturally, it had to start on a Saturday.

Saturday, when every possible clinic I could go to is closed. God, I hate this! The tidal wave falls and I go back to being a stone. I'd rather be a rock all the time! I would rather feel nauseous, empty, sad, and so exhausted than have these good periods. Because they taunt me! It's like the Evil is dangling this on a stick, "Here Kat! Here! Have a taste of how nice it is to experience different emotions- including happiness!" only to yank it away again. I get hope, and hope...it just hurts to have.

Being this sad is physical. It's a pain that works its way through my bones and my muscles. My legs won't relax until I've taken a CNS depressant. Mostly though...my body is just tired. Exhausted. I'll wake up in the morning or afternoon, and in half an hour I'm spent. Zero energy left.

Why does it keep coming back? Of all the other things, the anxiety, the obsessions and compulsions, the panic attacks, why is THIS the one thing that keeps haunting me? All the days of the week, it's there.

Two weeks until my debut...I know, more than a DAY is a lot to ask of the Evil, but I can't be depressed at my coming of age. What will I do when it's time to dance? When I have to present a speech? I don't have the energy to breathe, let alone dance and speak. I hate this so much.

i emerge with...the giant pills of doom! people were staring at me on the bus. yes, i cut my nails, geez.

The Fourth

My sweater is soaked in blood from the fourth nosebleed I've had today...it was only supposed to be absorbing tears. I don't see how going from 200mg to 100mg of sertraline can create such a difference in me...I woke up completely manic, an hour later I crashed, then my mom came in to tell me that I have an appointment with another specialist and I burst into tears. I can't handle this! There is blood on my sheets and blood on the floor, and this time I didn't cause it.

I am so, so sick of all these doctors. I am sick of telling myself that at least I'm getting help and I've got OHIP...I HATE going to all of them. Why can't they just leave me alone?! Why can't I just be normal!?!??! I don't want to see more social workers, more intake workers, psychiatrists and psychologists, hematologists, orthopedic surgeons, child and youth workers... I want to see my family doctor once a year for a check-up and never see them otherwise!

I am sick of Filipino lab tech's asking about the scars on my arms and telling me that I'm ashamed of my culture as they attach ECG cables, sick of them telling me that they need to use a baby needle because my veins are too small...I AM SICK OF BEING SICK. AGAIN.

I don't want to try new drugs and go for more intensive treatment! I don't want to do this! I hate having sixteen different charts and a million people writing in them. WHEN DOES IT ALL STOP!?

LOOK AT ME. JUST LOOK! Do I look like someone who is ready for another drug class and going to the hospital every day?! MORRISON LOOK AT ME! DON'T YOU GET A GUILTY CONSCIENCE FROM CONTINUING TO RUIN MY LIFE?!!? DON'T YOU FEEL BAD FOR ATTACKING ME WHEN I'M VULNERABLE?!?!!?

I just want it all to stop.

This Isn't Me...It can't, can't CAN'T be me

Yesterday I doubled my trazodone dose to 100mg at bedtime.
This morning I halved my sertraline dose to 100mg once daily.
In two weeks I'll start taking duloxetine, an SSNRI.
Sometime soon I'm going to see an intake worker for the Day Hospital at Shoniker.

I'm still trying to figure out how all this happened, how it got so far. Part of me still thinks that this isn't that bad, that I go to the hospital a little bit more than I need to. I know, (through Group) that this is me taking on the beliefs of people around me who say that affective disorders aren't that horrible. But now... now that I've exhausted SSRI's and going on to harder meds, now that I'm going to be under psychiatric supervision from 9-3 however long I'm at Day Treatment, it scares me so much.

Worse than that is realizing my support system has shrunk dramatically, and that suddenly I'm afraid to trust people-face-to-face with my secrets.

Boundaries huh? Ms Morrison, you're telling me that I'm overstepping boundaries by trying to find support from staff and yet you're the one who shared my medical history without my permission? Do you know that even my social workers and doctors ask for permission before talking to anyone else? Including other health professionals?

Ms Morrison, do you even remember that after you told my parents about me you did not provide any kind of support at all? Do you remember that I told you ASK me if it's alright to talk to other people about my status? Do you remember all those times you tried to help my friends and lost interest after a week or two? Ms, you got them to believe that you were going to help them but you ended up doing absolutely nothing. I dislike you.