Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Can I catch a breath?

I've barely slept or eaten in the past 2 weeks, I either have no apetite or just feel way to sick or anxious. I've been having some bad somach pains (but getting close to 3 months late, sorry for the tmi). All my muscles hurt and I just feel weak. My knees swell up when i walk and the pain spreads to my leggs. My head feels heavy which is hurting my neck.

Last night I woke up from a sharp pain on the side of my forehead area and the whole sleepless nights thing has just worn me out. Been having slight chest pains, but that got worse today. It feels like a tightness in my chest, like it's closing up. And earlier today I almost passed out, and basically just fell over.

Because of the lack of sleep and apetite, I've basically been running on caffeine and toast so I do get twitches and spazes, but it's not to bad. My therapist couldn't deffinetly notice that i was tired and urged me to try and work this out with my parents, becaue the bad news I recieved last week and just the whole situation has just put me in a bad place. And so it only get worse until i break. I actually had to convince her that I wasn't going to harm myself or do anything. And it's not like I don't have these feelings but I've only been seing her for a few months, so having someone voice that concern outload scares the hell out of me and it's awkward and weird.

I jump at everything and theres deffinetly some paranoia. And I really just want to get out of this whole situation. My parents don't really take my anxiety seriously so I just don't really know what I can do. But right now, the whole situation basically sucks. I want to breath normally, I don't want my throat hurting. I don't wanna feel ill or weak, or tired, and whatever else is going on.

Sorry to make this so long

Thursday, May 26, 2011

I have a little rant to come with as I really dunno what I can do anymore. I don't really want to go into all the details, but basically I got some bad news this week and I'm in the middle of some problems right now. Because of this I've had massive anxiety and little sleep. Nights have been filled with, well episodes? I don't wanna go as far as calling it manic since I'm not bipolar, but they are deffinatly NOT pleasent.

I have finals next week, but part of the bad news is a letter I got from the school saying that I was "disqualified" from one of my finals. I'm failing the class so they aren't letting me take the final exam. I'm pretty much failing out of school period which I have accepted (tbh I don't give a damn). But my parents wont, which is why I'm so anxious. I dropped out last year which almost made my mom divorce my dad (in her words, my games were manipulating the family against her). Last time they witnessed one of my anxiety attacks was at my midterms when they thought I was faking it, and said if I kept this going I would be on. This is part of why my anxiety has been so bad. I'm terrified of what this will do to them. Everyday they ask me about finals and job interviews, but they've never asked me about therapy or of I'm making progress on my health.

I finally got the courage to call the mental health place to get my session pushed forward, but my therapist wasn't in that day and they can't make appointments withouth her. They said I could try again the next day, which I did this morning. She was there but in a meeting or something so they were gonna get back to me. After hours of waiting I finally pulled myself to call back again, which I'm assuming was to late cause nobody picked up so they were closed (I would assume). I was hoping to get in tomorrow so I could have all this sorted out before the weekend.

I have extreme anxiety about calling in there on short notice and just having to talk on the phone with someone out of my comfort zone. So all of this is just making me look like a desperate idiot for sitting at home waiting all day. But my nights are filled with anxiety and mania? I feel week cause I've barely eaten since I either feel sick or don't have an apetite. Every part of my body aches, I've cut down on coffee to slow down my heart rate but really. I'm starting to get frustrated. And well I'm running out of ideas here.

I'm sorry, I did not intend to make this so long. But I just really needed to get this off my chest.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Obsessions

We reflect our bad energy over to something simpler, something we would rather be doing when reality is too hard to face. I do this every day from my own house. When my depression gets out of hand I can’t focus on the things I’m supposed to be doing, but I become a master at other simpler tasks. Things I’ve always hated have now become my main priority.

I’ve always been great at school, before. Now I can’t take a note if my life depends on it. One of my favorite things to do has been simply reading a book that I enjoy. Fill it up with notes in the margins, and post-it’s full of ideas. My head just fills with thoughts and I’ve always loved putting them on a piece of paper. But it’s been months since I finished a book. My paint is dry, and my arts supplies are on my desk gathering more dust each passing day. Even my camera is packed up somewhere. My loving camera which I spend hours at a minimum wage job saving up for, and the day I finally had enough to go buy it. Wasted. I still love those things, don’t get me wrong, but I simple just don’t. I don’t do anything, I don’t even know if I miss it at all. There’s simply just no desire for it anymore, no passion that drives me, keeps me going. I claim to be this aspiring artist or wish to be one, but what do I have to show for. Maybe I’m just another angsty teenager, a wannabe day time show cliché.  

So what do I do? I fold towels, no corners. Just like in the hotels, but wait. I also fold clothes, one pile for each member of the house, then another one for kitchen cloths, one for table cloths and then so on. I mop the floors; clean the counters, a maid you say? I am no maid, but I do cook. Yes, dinner for my family. I hate cleaning, I always have, I hate the idea of being tied down to a house full of chores. I hate the life of a housewife; I’ll never be a housewife. I’ve never even had a real desire for marriage. Just the thought of being somebody’s someone, having the house and dinner for that somebody. It’s not a life, not one I intend to have. But I’m already living it. I may not have a husband, but I have the life, only it’s my family who plays that role, same situation just different people.

How about meeting an old friend? No, I’d rather rearrange the cups, mugs and glasses in the kitchen cabinet. Going out? Facing anxiety? No, I’ll clean and rearrange the food pantry. Whatever I was doing before doesn’t matter; I’m busy with this new task that takes hours, and really not worth it. So why do I complain? Most people would love the willpower right? Being able to clean all day, keep the house intact. It’s quite the opposite, I have no willpower. As I said, I hate cleaning, always have. It’s an obsession, something I don’t know if I can control. I no longer do the things I would enjoy. It even took me 3 glasses of wine to just write this. But I need it written, I need to reflect, and I need to know that this is a piece of memory that I will only look back on in the future.

Right now, I see now future past my next task. I used to dream about arts school, traveling, lectures on literature and foreign studies. Now I hear the sound of the dryer when the clothes are dry and plans for dinner. I don’t dream, I don’t hope. I simply just, am. 

Sunday, May 8, 2011

A letter to an old friend

I remember when we met; you were such a cocky little prick. Your humor consisted of verbal pornography and controversial language. To those who didn’t know you better, it might have seemed like you thought you were above them, or that you were simply just a player. The truth is you never were anyone of those things. You just knew how to have fun; you would light up a room and make everyone feel ten points happier just buy being there. You were kind to everyone, even those who didn’t deserve it. We became such good friends in such a short time. We shared jokes and stories that only made sense to us. You were always there for me and I was there for you. But then you moved away and slowly we lost touch with each other. I no longer heard from you. It was like you had vanished from earth.

Imagine my happiness when you one fine day months later sent me an e-mail. You told me I was your best friend, and you couldn’t go any longer without letting me back into your life. I couldn’t believe you were back, talking to me, laughing with me, making inappropriate jokes and making fun of me. It was then you saw my darker side, the one I always had, but the one that also grew when you were gone. Things had happened and I didn’t have my friend there to confide in. So you listened, you gave a shoulder to cry on, you told me what I needed to hear. You told me I was sick, you told me I needed help. Then you told me about your own struggles and how you had worked on them. That’s when you told me to get help. I didn’t want to believe you, I didn’t deserve help. I wasn’t sick, I was just a failure. But you didn’t see that, you saw a side of me that I was never able to, a side only a true friend can see. You begged me to get help, but I didn’t listen.

Our friendship grew stronger. We both were miserable, but miserable together. We were living far apart, with only an e-mail or instant messaging to keep us together. Eventually I started to believe you, I needed help, and I wanted help. So I asked for help, but I got rejected. That’s when you offered your shoulder to me again. I told you more than I told anyone else, and you said I was the only one that fully got you. I was the one person you missed. I wasn’t getting help at home, but I was getting help from my friend.

So what happened? You became distant, left again. You told me you wanted to stay in touch, so I e-mailed you. I told you about my life, but you never answered. Why did you stop writing back? Why didn’t you say goodbye? I wrote you another one, and then again for Christmas. I wanted to wish you joy and happiness. Then on new years I wrote you my last e-mail. I wasn’t going to keep going, write to a wall, pathetic. Maybe you grew tired of me; maybe I didn’t fit in to your new life.

I still wonder sometimes what your life is like. Do you ever think about me? Or was it that easy to just leave? Were we ever friends? Why did you come back into my life only to leave me again? Do you even remember me at all? Do you care?

Yesterday I made some progress in therapy for the first time since I started going. Oh yeah, I’m in therapy now, I’m trying to get better. That is what you said you wanted for me. For the first time since I started, therapy didn’t feel like the worst thing. I wanted to tell you that, but somehow I don’t think you get my e-mails. You worked hard trying to convince me that I deserved help. Maybe that was it. You felt obligated, guilty. Whatever your motivation, it doesn’t matter. I had my friend, and I am grateful for that. So how am I? I’m not ok, and I won’t be for a while. But I can be, if I’m strong enough. I’ll get through this, just like you said I would. I wonder if you’ll ever see me then. See me when I am free from all of this, free from my problems. Just like I wonder if I’ll ever you again, your happy old self. Wherever you are, I wish you a happy and long life.

You were a great friend, and I’ll never forget that

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Stranger


While I was in my therapists waiting room a boy around my age came in. I’ve never seen anyone under 30 in there and so it caught my attention. He asked me if he had come to the right building and showed me a little note with the department name on it. I smiled and said, - Yup this is it. And we spoke no more with each other. I dunno what brought him here, but I secretly wished him good luck…

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

I'm not a poster child, so what?

I mentioned in my previous entry that I have been in therapy for the past few months now, which is still something that I am trying to get used to. So I thought I’d give a little brief summary from someone just starting out as a “mental health patient”.

Although It’s been a little over 2 months now, I’m still very new as I’ve had to cancel quite a few time due to s funeral, exams and one last minute cancel because I was stranded at a bus stop (story for another time). Whenever I did cancel it would take a few weeks before I got back in, and I’ve never been the one to ask for more. This is probably because I’m still trying to accept the fact that I need it. But the way things are now, I am not going to do anything unless someone push it on me, like ask for more session, or calling in during a crisis. I deal with things alone.

It’s now been over a month since I talked to anyone about this which has thrown me completely of track. The reason was the stranded at the bus stop fiasco, and I didn’t get a reschedule until a month later, which was last Friday. First I was upset, that I would have to wait that long, but then I got used to waiting a little too much. So when the day came I was too freaked out and couldn’t get out of bed. Skipping that appointment was surprisingly easy. It wasn’t until the next day that I was freaking out again.

I have now gotten a new letter in the mail about an appointment this coming Friday. If I choose not to go, that will be it. I will be discharged from they’re services and I get to go on with my life as if this whole therapy phase never happened. This is extremely tempting to me as I’ve wanted to just drop the whole thing. It’s the easier way but also the coward way. I feel worse than I did before I got help, but apparently it gets worse before it gets better. But also, for things to get better I have to fully accept that I do in fact need help, which means the people around me has to accept it to.

I don’t like to claim that I have depression or anxiety, my therapist told me that, but it’s still hard to wrap my mind around it. And maybe I need to hear it from more people, like my own family. But this whole experience has just been a don’t ask don’t tell policy. The only people that know I see a therapist are my parents and my best friend. My parents have never asked me about it, never asked who my therapist is, when my next session is etc. Nobody makes sure I go to my session nobody asked me what she is like. In fact I don’t think they even know she diagnosed me. As far as anxiety and anxiety attacks go, my mother thinks I’m faking it, and I’m not really sick. And so I start to wonder about that myself. Maybe I’m not sick, maybe I am being childish. And that is why I struggle so hard to open up with my therapist. How am I supposed to tell a stranger when I can’t even tell my own parents? Why is this something that I have to hide? Why do I have to feel ashamed about this? If I do in fact have problems, I am ok with that. At least then I would know why I feel the way that I feel, or why I do the things that I do.

And that is why I dread each session so much. By not knowing I play it safe. But if I let my guards down, than she might see me as a fake and a poser, like my parents do. And I just can’t take that rejection. I don’t know maybe I just need to hear from someone that I did the right thing by accepting help. Maybe all I need is for my parents to say, hey you have a problem, but that’s ok. You need to get help. But the fact is that I have an easy way out here. I can stay home on Friday and, no one would notice, no one would care. The pressure would be off.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

A little and allot...

It’s been a while since I made a post here. I don’t even know if anyone still bothers to come here, but oh well. Maybe an update is due?

There’s been a lot and nothing going on in my life right now. I have been trying to work on myself for the past few months with the help of a therapist, which hasn’t exactly been easy since I’ve had to cancel to many times and this being public health care and all, it can take a while to get a reschedule. Apparently I have a severe depression and social anxiety, and as of recently, a few OCD tendencies. 

To be honest, it’s been quite awful, as I am not used to the whole talking to someone about my problems, but it will come eventually (at least I hope). I don’t think I ever realized it was going to be this hard to actually get better. If you’re not a hundred present committed, then don’t even bother. Which is kind of the problem with depression, your just not committed enough to actually want to get better. I can’t say how everyone else feels about this, but at least that is how I am. One side I don’t want to feel this way or do the things that I do, but then I got turn around and do something stupid or self destructive. It only ends up biting me in the ass later, hurting me and the people that I love.

Anyway, this is why I don’t post updates anymore. Because once I do write something, I go on rambling into a long post which I know nobody wants to read, so I will try to work on that. I will try to do get some real writing done some time soon. Once I can get my brain to focus for more than five minutes. Until then, I am going to read up on my blogger subscriptions.


Saturday, April 9, 2011

under my skin

I find myself in need of writing, when really I have nothing to say. Nightmares are keeping me up at night, and the lack of sleep is making me cranky and agitated. Nothing makes sence to me anymore, and I end up ignoring what happens around me (or at least try to). I have friends who need me, whom have been there for me before. Yet I turn my back and lock myself up in a deep isolation, not wanting anything to do with anything or anyone. I start to get more agitaded, letting every small thing get to me. Sipping into me, like a sharp thorn ripping in to under my skin, just waiting for me to crack...

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Where have I been?

Heyas bloggerworld. I've been sick for like a week and half with the flu now, so I didn't get much writing done. But I'm getting better now and might do something this weekend, but first I gotta go study. I have a lit final on modernism/post-modernism tomorrow. Yikes!

I also want to mention that I got in a big fight with anxiety today. And I kicked anxiety's ass, super smash brothers BRAWL style! If that doesn't make sence to you, look it up.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

The previously on...

This is draft of a little fiction project I am working on. Allthough some events are inspired by my own life they have been altered and are not excatly as experienced by me and some not at all. It is therefore purely fiction, written by me, all rights owned by me.

The previously on…

My name is Beth, although my legal name is Elisabeth Leigh Ryder used only by Mr. and Mrs. Ryder themselves. I had always done what was expected of me, I did everything right and from the outside looking in one could see I had a bright future ahead of me. Now, whether this was because I had strict overprotective parents or just high ambitions I don’t know anymore as it is not of any importance today. No matter the reason, I was raised in a world were getting a good education meant everything as it led to a good paying job, the big house and spoiled kids. I still believe that an education is important but for the same reasons. Since I never was a very social kid with twenty one friends I had a lot of time to work for those things. I spent my weekends studying for the next pop quiz, I spent my lunch break taking notes and getting a C on a paper would ruin my day. Now even though getting a semi good grade would upset me, I was not the smart girl. I was just the girl who worked a lot to achieve academically. That was off course until I met the great world of major depression.

At the time I didn’t realize I was depressed, it is something I have come to realize later in therapy which by the way has to be one of the most overused sentences of the decade. Now what we know is that most people who suffer from depression never seek help, and I was no different. I did what I did best, which was stay in school, my one ticket out. Isolation became big part of my day. My social life went from rare to nothing and every day became a test on how long I could stay smiling in a room before I had to leave. It was only a matter of time before it affected my school work. My attendance was perfect and my performance over average. However as the weeks went by I slowly lost interest for school, suddenly everything that had been important to me didn’t matter anymore. Study session turned into a big hollow numbness. I would lie down on the floor just staring up in the air for hours loosing track off all time. Off course I would always snap out of it, that’s when the anxiety came as I used my last hours cramping in what I had time for. Eventually I stopped showing up for school at all. Every morning was an ongoing struggle to get out of bed, and once I skipped one day I skipped two days. By the second quarter of my senior year I was a high school dropout. My parents never looked at me the same way again.

Elisabeth Wurtzel once said "Hemingway has his classic moment in "The Sun Also Rises" when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt. All he can say is, "Gradually, then suddenly." That's how depression hits. You wake up one morning, afraid that you're gonna live." 

That’s how it was for me every single day. The nights were the worst. I would stay up every night afraid to fall asleep. Spending hours awake. Because every time I closed my eyes it was decided. I had to wake up to another day.

After Christmas my mother set up an appointment with the family practitioner. After that it was pretty much up to me. After a ten minute conversation and some blood work he sent my case over to the district psychiatric center. After that I was sent home to wait for further notice.

Weeks passed and when nothing happened I was forced to move on with my life. I was no longer in school so that pressure was off. I got a job and took it all day by day. My little depression was never talked about at home as it was a more don’t ask don’t tell subject. And my mother’s belief was that I had imagined the whole thing in a plot to punish them for being so great to me. After a while I became really good at suppressing my problems, and as far as everybody else knew it had only been a phase. It became a new plan to go back to school in the fall and try it over again, except this time I would graduate.

It wasn’t until Christmas break I hit rock bottom. I was behind on school again and the depression had hit me harder than ever before. I slept right through Christmas and family dinners, but it wasn’t until new years after another meaningless fight with my mother I crashed down. To be honest it wasn’t just the fight, her words were really just the straw that broke the camel’s back. I spent three days in bed without food, barely drinking water. I had lost all touch with reality and any desire I had to live. Every day was filled with screams and cries, and threats. I had never seen so much hate in my entire life, and I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. My self-worth had never been lower. 

On the third day I woke up as my brother carried me out and in to the living room. I wanted to stay; but I was to week to put up a fight. It was almost midnight and my mother had fallen asleep, so my brother and father used the opportunity to try and get some food in me. I didn’t even realize that we were three days in to a new year; id had started off so great. It wasn’t until I saw the turkey leftovers I started to wonder what day it was. Christmas morning? New years? It was like a vague dream that started to vaporize the more I thought about it. I was dehydrated and weak. After a few bites of food and many glasses of water I was finally allowed back in bed. I closed my eyes and fell back to sleep a Sunday night in January of 2010.

My mood didn’t fully recover and as the new semester was starting I was forced to turn to home schooling. We never talked about my incident just like we never talked about anything in my family. After a few weeks I finally got the courage to see my practitioner again, it had been a year since I was first in and I had relapsed. I had started to believe that I was supposed to be like this, and maybe my mother was right. I didn’t have depression, I was just lazy, someone who needed to grow up. If I really had a problem, wouldn’t anyone have noticed? Would I really have stayed a year waiting for something to happen?

I didn’t take long before I found out that I would have been waiting forever as I was never on any waiting list. They called it a technicality, my case has simply disappeared in the system. Pretty similar to what my life had been like so far. I was never going anywhere, because nobody even knew I existed. At that point all we could do was put me back on the waiting list, back at the bottom. I never did try to find out what happened there, I had already given up and my expectations were even lower this time than they were the year before. They say history repeats itself, for me that was almost true. I was simply relieving the previous year.

Things took a different turn when I received my first letter from the public psychiatric center. I was officially in the system. And I had been called in for a session with Doctor Eva Magnusen. The following weeks I saw Dr. Magnusen every Monday she had allot to say about me, in a way I had never heard anyone talk before. It didn’t take long before she diagnosed me with depression, general anxiety disorder and possibly suicidal. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being labeled by a mental health professional. I just never looked at myself that way just like the people around me didn’t. For the first time in my life, there was someone else trying to understand me more than I ever could by myself. Still, I felt this wall covering everything I wanted to say, and everything I needed to say. After going through 19 years of suppressed emotions I didn’t exactly pour my heart out on the first meeting. I felt like a big fake every time I entered that office and my biggest fear was that one day someone would pull me out and call me on it. That someone would expose me as a liar and an impostor. So I bit my teeth and stayed shut, not knowing how I could open up and move on. If only someone could really see me.


Wednesday, March 16, 2011

October 2010 (first draft)

Here's a little prolougue draft on a little project I've been working on. Not sure what it's gonna end up as. I was also very insomniac when I wrote this, so it will be needing work.

October

I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. The words sunk into me as a dagger in my chest as I knew what would follow. There was no going back after this, and it had been my fault, and how I could have been so blunt was beyond me. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true or that my intentions weren’t there. They believed it and now it was out there. 


I looked at my friend sitting across from me at the table; I looked over at the sign hanging over the espresso machine. The jukebox was on a loop again but I was too caught up in thoughts that I didn’t even notice. We must have had a hundred and one gatherings here, all three of us. But she wasn’t here and I doubt she would have been up for a girl’s night out anytime soon. If only I had know what to say, there had to be some words meant for this exact moment, words that would make us all forget the situation and lead us right back to where we were before. There was something I could say that would fix this, but somehow for someone who always had an answer for everything I had become speechless, a complete mute. I looked into those sad brown eyes; I could tell he was just as awkward about this as I was. 

“Look, I’m sorry. You have to believe me. That was never in my intention. I love you both, you know that. I would never…” 

I had to stop myself, because just the thought of going through with that made me want to swallow my own brain.

“Beth, I believe you, I know this is crazy. But you have to understand, when under these circumstances. It makes people imagine things, things that normally would, well….”

He went further on talking about it, but my head had fallen out and I wasn’t even paying attention anymore. I was looking down at brownie sundae that hadn’t been touched too wrapped up in thoughts trying to hold back the tears. Seeing me cry would only make the situation worse. I know what I needed to do, I had to fix this. I would no longer cause more problems for anyone. Staring at his lips move I was begging to myself for the write words to magically make me say the right thing, at least something better than what I walked into.
“Maybe, we could all use some time apart. I’ll step away, so that we can work this out. A little space might be good right now.”

“Beth, that’s now what I meant. You’ve got to believe me”

And I did, but it didn’t matter. I looked at my brownie, the Sunday had melted and I had lost my appetite. I put my hat and scarf on and grabbed my purse as I got up from the chair. 

“It doesn’t matter, we couldn’t avoid this. Everybody else saw it but us. It just can’t work.”
I looked over at the clock and closed my jacket. I couldn’t stay in here any longer, the tears were about to reach me and the coffee shop suddenly seemed like the smallest closet in a city apartment and we were all jammed inside.

“I actually have to go anyway, I have things to do and you should be getting back. We don’t want any more trouble. I won’t try to contact you in the near future, I’d appreciate it if you apply the same to me and don’t make this any harder than it already is. Don’t waste time worrying about, because I’ll be fine. Take care…”
As soon as I walked away I could hear him say something but I couldn’t catch what it was. My main concern was getting out and getting home. I had not walked more than half a block away before the tears finally broke out. After that my visions got sort of foggy and made my way through the crowd finding myself right back where I was a year ago. A place I hate so much, but a place that always gave me comfort.
I was alone.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

10 days, 30, never?

Today I got a letter from the district psychiatric center. At first I thought, wow they actually do exist. So it basically said that they had gotten the referral from GP. Then it just went on to a bunch of formal talk, rules and guidelines etc. But some of it really bothered me.



In the second paragraph it sais “you have the right to priority treatment for mental health, and you must receive news of such treatment before march 7.2011. You will be notified of when such treatment will start in a separate letter.” – So, pretty straight forward. But then later on in the letter it has a similar description with a few changes. “According to patient rights, your referral shall be evaluated within 30 days, however if the patient is under the age of 23 and there are symptoms of mental health or addiction they have the right to get an evaluation within 10 days.”

“The special health service will base the need for an evaluation based on the referral sent in by your GP” – So basically they are gonna decide whether or not I need and evaluation appointment based on quick notes my GP sent them. “You will be contacted in a separate letter which rights you have out of the following options listed”:

Option 1:
You have the right to priority help in the special health service and will receive a proper evaluation before beginning such treatment. Treatment will begin within 65 days.

Option 2:
You do not have any right when it comes to treatment in the special health service but will still receive it. However there is no time limit of when such treatment has to begin.

Option 3:
After reviewing your referral it has been decided that you are not in need of medical care. This meaning that we have looked over your case and it should be fixed between you and your GP.

So in conclusion, without even talking to me they are going to decide if I get an evaluation. If I get one or not, they have 30 days to answer me. If I’m eligible for treatment it can take 65 days before I receive it. So basically, I’m screwed.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Look what I made!



bookcase, originally uploaded by revoltra.
Bought a new set of bookcase and put it together all by myself. I did not come in a box looking like this. I have a soar thumb, back pains and cramping hands. But this is the most rewarding thing I've done all week. Now I just gotta finish decorating it.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Asking for help and home schooling

I want to apologize in advanced for lack of writing skills. I am extremely tired lately and decent writing is a challenge. I was going to write a detailed update, but things just keep adding on so I’ll just sum it up instead.

After my little breakdown over Christmas I spent a few weeks in bed before I finally got the guts to see my doctor. Just getting the appointment was a challenge, and when I finally got there ready to open up and ask for help there was a med student in there with my GP. He was there to observe or whatever.
·        
  • I did open up to my doctor, told him I never heard back from the outpatient clinic after a year on the waiting list.
  • After over a year without treatment my condition had worsen, and he know thinks I also have anxiety disorder.
  • After the talk he decided to get me an emergency appointment and evaluation for the following day, he called me later and informed it wasn’t happening after all. I am now back on the waiting list.
  • Since I’ve waited over a year for help I most likely might have gotten lost in someone’s paperwork so I was re added to the waiting list. It will take a few weeks since I am now back at the bottom of the list.
  • As far as school goes, I’ll be continuing all my classes on my own. Worked out a deal with them and because of my situation I’ll be doing all my work at home until I show up for finals in May. 



As for everything else, I’m going to try and take it all day by day. As for depressive/suicidal thoughts, I will just have to try my best to ignore them until someone decides that I need or deserve help. Until then, I’ll be here waiting, like I have been for the past year and a half.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Call your doctor

So allot has happened over christmas for me and I haven't gotten around to posting about it here. To be honest I had all the time in the world, but i hit a low point where i just layed in bed all day and slept up to 16 hours a day. So beforeI update on my current situation I thought I'd go back a little bit. Here's something I wrote after new years but never published on my blog.

IMG_1947

I really don't know how to start here and i don't wanna write to much, but theres just allo i'm unsure about. Like when do you seek help for depression? And how do you do it?

to sum up my story, a little over a year ago i was 18 in school and struggling really bad. I always started every school year doing good academic wise no matter how bad i was feeling but then within weeks i would get so depressed that i'd get through the year just barely. However around november 09 it had gotten so bad that i couldn't even leave my bed for weeks (told the school i had swine flu). I was failing half my classes, so the guidence counclir took me in for a meating which then led to her making appointments with the school therapist etc. The therapist was on seek leave due to swine flu so within a week i was back in bed. parents go involved, lots of yeling and screaming and i od'd a few days later.

After that i had to drop out of school, saw my doctor because of the whole situation and after christmas he set me up with the psychatric outpatient clinic for kids, when i got there they sent me back home because i was 18 (they treath kids under 18). About a month later he had my files sent over to the outpatien clinic for adults. He told me theres a waiting period and offered some antidepressants. At the time i was in shock and a little overwhelmed so i didn't say anything, he sent me into the lag for some blood work, i cried infront of the nurse and went back home. This was around feb/march.

So the thing is, after that i've had no follow ups with my doctor or the clinic. I got a job, went back to school in the fall and lasted a little longer this time. But now i'm right back where i was. I barely made it through my classes before christmas. And over christmas break i had a big breakdown, stayed in bed for 3 days without eating, didn't get any school work done. So when school started this week i was so scared and panicked that i just stayed in bed, which then led to 2 days, 3 days. I know i've screwed my school again. But i can't seem to leave the house. I'm constantly scared or panicked which is getting really overwhelming. When the phone rings, or i hear someone comming, when i check my e-mail, when someone tries to talk to me etc. Simple things make me loose my breathe.

I've spent over a year waiting for a follow up, and i keep wanting to go see a doctor but i always chicken out because i'm constantly scared of everything. My parents keep asking me if i'm showing up for my classes and i'm running out of time before someone will contact them. I don't even know if i have a reason to see a doctor, or what to tell them when i call in. I called a crisis line but the woman who answered was a little cranky and noe help.

I'm sorry, wasn't suposed to write i whole damn essay here just had allot to sum up. so i guess my question is, how i tell my parents about school and if and how i call a doctor, i keep wanting but chicken out everytime as i don't know what to tell them.


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Registered for flickr today, just cause.....