Yesterday I slept 20 hours. I was awake for a mere four- from 1900 to 2300h. The night before I had taken 1/3 of my prescribed dose of Seroquel. Last night, in an effort to sleep a normal 10 hours, I took 1/6th, or 1/2 tablet of 25mg Seroquel.
Nightmares and tossing and turning oh my! Still, I slept an acceptable 12 hours and I don't feel nearly as groggy as I did yesterday. Unfortunately I woke up feeling pretty anxious and uncomfortable. My muscles were tense, I have a sick feeling around my heart and stomach, my fingers are naturally curled up. It looks like no matter what dose I take, I end up with some unpleasant side effects.
I feel like my skin is going to unravel, like a banana peel, and I need somebody or something to hold me together. The feeling is so strange and unwelcome that I had to take a PRN. Sedated, again.
November 1st 2010
I've been back hitting up all the usual websites trying to find a new medication cocktail. It turns out I`ve already been on a ridiculous 11 different pills, which is only a small fraction of the meds available. However, the other medications haven't been given a go previously for a reason. Many of the remaining meds have weight gain, even more sexual dysfunction, hyperglycemia and mental blunting listed under "Common Side Effects." Looks like more bad choices.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Treatment
I know having an episode wipe out my life again after doing so well and being so productive is difficult on the people around me as well. How do you act around someone who is sure they`re going to die soon, if not this month, than in a few years when the next relapse comes. Even when my brother says something like he wants to go back out into the world and travel, I`m wondering if I could ever do the kinds of things he does when I can`t stand bumpy ground or dampness. It`s not likely I`ll find a campsite where the ground is exactly level without any lumps, bumps, or damp. Even when my friends talk about how they only make instant noodles for dinner it cuts me because I know making noodles in the place I am now requires an incredible push from me. Something like having to tear open the bag would crush me and I`d just go back upstairs to eat Oreos.
I`m finding now without a mood stabilizer in my cocktail, (Seroquel was putting me under for days at a time, and I`m unsure if I should restart Lamictal now, I`m a bit wary of getting the rash again) I`m really angry. I can`t talk to my parents for more than a few minutes without something they say just making me want to scream. At this point, it`s not really interfering with my life so it`s hard to say if I`d go back on Lamictal just to quench that fire. I`ve always been uncomfortable dealing with anger, including my own. But I have reasons to be angry. Things I allude to, but ultimately feel I would become too enraged to talk about even on the mood stabilizer. I don`t know how or when I would ever address that anger, but at home is not the place to do it. It`s simply to volatile an environment to express anger.
I started looking up more medications to see if there`s something that could tide me over until I`m eligible for rTMS again, something that would take the sharp edges and the extremes off but all the meds I`m finding are going to make me fat, stupid, or hyperglycemic. We`re talking about a girl who is too exhausted and too sad to boil a potato, so my steady diet of food I can eat in my room without preparation, (i.e. cookies and dried mangoes) is not going to mix well with a drug that is going to raise my blood sugar.
Then there's the simple matter of getting to my doctor. Apart from my fear of speaking on the phone, I'm not optimistic that I would get an appointment within a reasonable timeframe for figuring out the lamictal/seroquel mess, so I think I'll have to work that one out on my own. I don't know how to get myself down there without turning into a mess. I almost cried because Oreos now come with this impenetrable plastic seal I couldn't open.
Truth me told, I'm doing pretty badly. My treatment options seem to be dwindling, especially without access to my doctor. There's zero chance I'm partaking in adult mental health programs. I may think I'm a waste of OHIP and oxygen but I have enough self-respect not to submit myself to that. It looks like this to me: find something that will work in outpatient or die. Now, or later.
I`m finding now without a mood stabilizer in my cocktail, (Seroquel was putting me under for days at a time, and I`m unsure if I should restart Lamictal now, I`m a bit wary of getting the rash again) I`m really angry. I can`t talk to my parents for more than a few minutes without something they say just making me want to scream. At this point, it`s not really interfering with my life so it`s hard to say if I`d go back on Lamictal just to quench that fire. I`ve always been uncomfortable dealing with anger, including my own. But I have reasons to be angry. Things I allude to, but ultimately feel I would become too enraged to talk about even on the mood stabilizer. I don`t know how or when I would ever address that anger, but at home is not the place to do it. It`s simply to volatile an environment to express anger.
I started looking up more medications to see if there`s something that could tide me over until I`m eligible for rTMS again, something that would take the sharp edges and the extremes off but all the meds I`m finding are going to make me fat, stupid, or hyperglycemic. We`re talking about a girl who is too exhausted and too sad to boil a potato, so my steady diet of food I can eat in my room without preparation, (i.e. cookies and dried mangoes) is not going to mix well with a drug that is going to raise my blood sugar.
Then there's the simple matter of getting to my doctor. Apart from my fear of speaking on the phone, I'm not optimistic that I would get an appointment within a reasonable timeframe for figuring out the lamictal/seroquel mess, so I think I'll have to work that one out on my own. I don't know how to get myself down there without turning into a mess. I almost cried because Oreos now come with this impenetrable plastic seal I couldn't open.
Truth me told, I'm doing pretty badly. My treatment options seem to be dwindling, especially without access to my doctor. There's zero chance I'm partaking in adult mental health programs. I may think I'm a waste of OHIP and oxygen but I have enough self-respect not to submit myself to that. It looks like this to me: find something that will work in outpatient or die. Now, or later.
Fighting the Relapse Beast
Part of why it's so difficult for me when people say that I'll get better and I'll be so close to remission again is because I was so close. I was about to rock a college certificate, I had proved to myself that I was ready for university, but it all came crashing down two weeks before I would have finished that achievement. It just makes me think that there's no point to moving forward from this because I'll have another relapse and become completely capable of anything again. And when that's over, I'll have to start all over again.
Life isn't linear, it's not like once you've failed college you can't go back and try, but it does go on despite whatever is happening in your life. I can work so hard and not really get significantly better and time is going to keep on passing. I'm never going to catch up to my age mates in the rat race and that's something I think I'll feel badly about for a long time. They have had so many different experiences while I am having a completely different one that really gets me nowhere in the calculation of success. I haven't completed any level of education past grade 10, I haven't lived away from home, I haven't dated, all because of this damn illness that's going to dog me forever. There is no cure for depression. I can deal, I deal with my anxieties and my OCD, but to be completely honest that's not the life I want. I don't want to deal, I don't want to be afraid that the next week somethings going to conk out and my life is going to grind to a halt again for reasons that I can't really explain. This summer everything stopped because I was exhausted, and that led to a million other things. Next time maybe it'll be the anxiety which will lead to the other things. The uncertainty of not knowing when or if a relapse is going to strike bothers me quite a bit.
My urgency to find something now is because I know with my history it's most likely that I'll have more relapses throughout my life. I've been so close to the edge this time that if I were to get that close again I don't think I would have the strength to fight it, and with that experiences I`ve gathered of the adult mental health system there are strong barriers to seeking help for it. You don't know...even when you've experienced it, once you're healthy and you're part of the world again you always think it's not going to be that bad. Next time you'll be stronger because you have the perspective of having been healthy. It doesn't work like that. Once it's back, you're in it. It's all consuming, overwhelming, there is no thought that doesn't lead back to it. If I don't find something that will work now and in the future, I'll die because that's just how strong my episodes are. I truly don`t know if I can face more jagged edges like that and come back from it. It`s taken a lot to be at a place where I want to come back. Even now I`m extremely hesitant, I can`t see a future for me that I want to live through.
Life isn't linear, it's not like once you've failed college you can't go back and try, but it does go on despite whatever is happening in your life. I can work so hard and not really get significantly better and time is going to keep on passing. I'm never going to catch up to my age mates in the rat race and that's something I think I'll feel badly about for a long time. They have had so many different experiences while I am having a completely different one that really gets me nowhere in the calculation of success. I haven't completed any level of education past grade 10, I haven't lived away from home, I haven't dated, all because of this damn illness that's going to dog me forever. There is no cure for depression. I can deal, I deal with my anxieties and my OCD, but to be completely honest that's not the life I want. I don't want to deal, I don't want to be afraid that the next week somethings going to conk out and my life is going to grind to a halt again for reasons that I can't really explain. This summer everything stopped because I was exhausted, and that led to a million other things. Next time maybe it'll be the anxiety which will lead to the other things. The uncertainty of not knowing when or if a relapse is going to strike bothers me quite a bit.
My urgency to find something now is because I know with my history it's most likely that I'll have more relapses throughout my life. I've been so close to the edge this time that if I were to get that close again I don't think I would have the strength to fight it, and with that experiences I`ve gathered of the adult mental health system there are strong barriers to seeking help for it. You don't know...even when you've experienced it, once you're healthy and you're part of the world again you always think it's not going to be that bad. Next time you'll be stronger because you have the perspective of having been healthy. It doesn't work like that. Once it's back, you're in it. It's all consuming, overwhelming, there is no thought that doesn't lead back to it. If I don't find something that will work now and in the future, I'll die because that's just how strong my episodes are. I truly don`t know if I can face more jagged edges like that and come back from it. It`s taken a lot to be at a place where I want to come back. Even now I`m extremely hesitant, I can`t see a future for me that I want to live through.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Sew What's Next? (Hahaha!)
A few weeks ago I finished the Alexander blouse and found it rather appealing. Although it was a challenging, finicky pattern for me I think I managed to pull it off. (It's currently in the wash, or I'd post a picture for y'all.) I also finished off a few quick alterations- a hem here, a button there, re-fasten some chain, etc.
My cousin is getting married in a few weeks and my sewing projects of late, (plus the fee of the only seamstress we know) has prompted my mom to commission me to alter her ball gown. I made little paper doll of her and some paper dresses and she chose a design! I'm very, very afraid and I suspect there will be not a little hand-sewing which I have to admit I detest. Although embroidery I don't mind, for some reason.
After that, my crafty life plan slows to a crawl. What shall I sew next? I have so many patterns and books that part of the difficulty is just picking one thing. So, despite the relapse, the weird lung virus, the deferred exams I'll be writing, the full-time online course load, the therapy homework, and the high school diploma I hope to PLAR, I need a new challenge. Scissors, at the ready!
