#finally went to my appointment and got prescription for my anxiety meds AND therapy!

[justalarryblog]

🥰🧁

[rustbeltjessie]

It has been a hell of a few weeks. (Putting the rest under a cut because there's a lot of hard stuff.)

First I had a CoViD scare (was exposed, tested a bunch, never got it, thankfully); then I got some writing rejections/found out I didn't win some writing contests that were a big deal to me, and that made me super sad. (Sometimes rejections and losses just roll right off me, sometimes they hit me hard. This time they hit me hard.) Then I was busting my ass at my money-making side-hustle to make sure I could afford birthday presents for my youngest kiddo and Xmas presents for both kiddos + my partner, and I managed it, but I burned myself out. And then I basically had a nervous breakdown—it started on December 20, I had a really bad panic attack, the worst I've had in about 20 years, it lasted for over twelve hours. I felt a little better on the 21st and managed to hold it together for my kiddo's birthday celebration, but then the 22nd it started up again. I got the shakes really bad, like I could not stop shaking, and was also dizzy, and even though I was like 90% sure it was 'just' anxiety, I started worrying it was something neurological. Which of course made the anxiety symptoms even worse. So I went to urgent care. The doctor ran me through all the tests they do to check for neurological problems, and I passed them all. They diagnosed it as an anxiety attack and got me to a referral to the hospital system's behavioral health center. I haven't had an appointment with them yet, but hopefully I will soon. I was diagnosed with both Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder (or w/e it's called now) like 20 years ago, and did talk therapy + had a prescription for Xanax, but I haven't had any kind of anxiety meds or any kind of talk therapy in like...over 15 years. So it's probably a blessing in disguise that all this happened, because now I'll finally be treating my anxiety again instead of just trying to ignore it. Because that uh...doesn't work. In the meantime, I've been keeping my caffeine intake really low, because while caffeine isn't the cause of my anxiety, it certainly doesn't help.

Then on Christmas Eve, I had a flare-up of my chronic sinus issues, and I took another CoViD test, because a lot of my sinus symptoms mimic various CoViD symptoms. But I was CoViD-free, and despite feeling half-sick for it, I managed to have a nice Christmas Eve/Christmas despite it. Those symptoms cleared up on the 27th, and I was like: "Oh, good, maybe I can have a relaxing few days leading up to my birthday." And then I got into a big thing with my mom, it's a long story and I don't feel like rehashing it right now, but we were both hurt and angry. Fortunately, we worked through it the same day. Since then, things have been pretty good, but...now I'm having the anxiety shakes again. I drank more coffee today than I have been lately, and that's probably why. (Note to self: don't do that.) At least this time I know it's just anxiety, so I'm not spiraling thinking it's something else. I'm drinking a bunch of water, then I'm going to make myself a hot toddy and hopefully finally finish this fucking installment of my newsletter that I've been working on for a month now. It's been kind of hard to focus on writing with everything else that's been going on. And my birthday's in two days, and I'm tired. The end.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Greetings From Austin

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 2616

Warnings: a/b/o, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway​​​​​​​

*images found online

Prologue

Austin, TX

Mid July

“Babe,” Jensen softly says in a low voice to the person seated next to him in the waiting room, “Babe,” he says a bit louder, still getting no response. Leaning close, he blows into their ear.

Jared starts, his “what” muffled by the finger he’s been chewing on.

“You know you can’t do that, don’t want you getting sick.” Taking his hand Jensen pulls it away from his pretty pink lips, gently caressing the finger. Jared had finally stopped chewing on his hands when Covid-19 became widespread.

“Where’s your gum?” Jared bite his lip not answering.

Sighing, Jensen shifts retrieving his pack and hands a piece to him. “What’s got you masticating again?” He inquires as Jared pops the stick in his mouth.

Jared chews the gum nervously weighing how to answer the question knowing Jensen won’t accept anything less than the whole truth. “What if something goes wrong again because of me.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed. He learned years ago that while their relationship is one of equals, he had to be lead Alpha when Jared’s mental state overwhelmed him as it had the last few weeks.

***

After the public announcement in March 2019 that season fifteen would be Supernaturals last, they had agreed when finished with the pickups they would take an extended break, return to Austin and concentrate on their marriage.

Jared intended to stop acting indefinitely, pursuing other interests and Jensen wanted to concentrate on his music.

Of course, things didn’t quite end up how they planned.

Jared entered negotiations to star in the Walker, Texas Ranger reboot, along with being an executive producer. Jensen got a call from Kripke wanting him for the role of Soldier Boy in The Boys third season.

But by March of 2020, everything came to a halt thanks to the Corona-virus.

The shutdowns left Supernaturals final two episodes with no definitive filming date and their seemingly never ending last season put their other projects on hold.

For the first time in years they had the luxury of a leisurely schedule, not having to be somewhere on a timetable, they could communicate with friends and family uninterrupted, deal with their other businesses, charities, etc, leaving most days free to enjoy being together without constraint.

But even amazing, awesome, vigorous sex on every horizontal/vertical surface that could support the two big Alphas only filled so many hours and like many couples, they started getting each others nerves and looked for other ways to stay occupied.

By late May, Jared was unable to sleep or eat, even going out of the house became a chore. When he hit a consecutive fourth day in bed, Jensen bodily dragged him into the bath for a desperately needed shower and loaded him in his truck driving to his doctor's.

Upon checking in they were told patients only allowed in the facility. Jared started panicking, saying he was having chest pains and couldn’t breath. He was rushed in with Jensen hot on their heels after morphing into an overprotective Alpha mate no one was stopping.

Jared’s doctor deduced with the lock-downs prohibiting him from his routine checkups and periodic adjustments needed to his medications triggered this episode.

The first step was to wean him off his current prescriptions and change to a newly approved, alternative regime. He was checked in a facility for ten days under observation while detoxing off his meds.

His therapist switched his twice weekly tele-counseling sessions to daily for the foreseeable future and Kodas certification as an emotional support animal was approved. His progress was slow but he was returning back to his sweet natured, big hearted, exceptionally tactical, overgrown puppy self.

When the surprise call from the clinic came a few days ago about an appointment opening, Jensen initially didn’t want it, still in his overly excessive protective Alpha mode. Jared’s outburst made him relent, fearing they were on a collision course for a major setback if he didn’t.

And Jensen, being Jensen, went overboard to ensure the appointment was absolutely private.

Part I

Jared was about to speak when a woman in scrubs called out, “Mr. Bonham and Mr. Page.” they got up crossing over to her, “Hello, I’m Sissy, Dr. Rodgers nurse, please follow me.”

They pass through the doorway leading through a maze of halls like that of any other medical clinic except this one specialized in a very specific service.

The nurse opens a door near the back of the clinic gesturing for them to enter the spacious office, “Please have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly.” She closed the door and they sat down in the pair of chairs directly in front of the large, dark mahogany desk.

Jensen, scenting Jared’s nervousness, lifts his right hand kissing his palm, making him chuckle at the tickle of Jen’s soft beard before twining their fingers together and setting them on his left thigh, smiling reassuringly.

There was a brief knock before the door opened and an older, silver haired Beta entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Rodgers, how are we doing today?” He asks, moving to his chair behind the desk.

Jared gave him a tight smile and Jensen remained placid.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, “Relax Mr. Page, this is just a visit to go over the paperwork before deciding about how we proceed, not the Spanish Inquisition.” Jared releases his held breath but couldn’t completely calm himself.

“I know the process can be overwhelming but I must ask, is there something we’ve done to make you uncomfortable?” Dr. Rodgers inquires.

“No, everyone’s been really nice, very professional. It’s just we..we had issues the first time we attempted to do this.” Jared finished his sentence quietly, in the recess of his mind; something bad is gonna happen and it’ll be my fault.

Jensen squeezes his hand tighter, instinctively sensing Jared’s mind was trying to spiral again, “When tried this before someone leaked our plans to the media. It wasn't ever proven the clinic was involved but...”

“We do everything possible to keep our clients anonymity protected here. All of our staff have been thoroughly vetted and sign NDA, given your professions, you're familiar with how they work. Your real identities will remain completely confidential, even if you choose to not proceed. It is why you chose this particular clinic, yes?”

“Yes, it is.” Jensen replied.

“How about we get this bit of paperwork out of the way, then we can have a more relaxed visit. I’ve gone over the applications you both submitted and have noted a few discrepancies in the medical section that need clarification before we proceed,” He opens the top file, “Mr. Bonham, why did you omit Genu Varum from your medical history?”

Jensen kept his expression neutral as he felt his stomach automatically clench. He had been mercilessly teased throughout his childhood about his bowed legs by his older brother Josh and later his buddies from school when they’d come over to hang out. By the time he was in high school Jensen’s extraordinary looks and personality were what got people’s attention first. Nowadays, many a fanfic waxed poetic about those bowed legs.

“The questionnaire inquired about inherited genetic medical conditions and since mine isn’t, I didn’t think it was necessarily applicable.” Jared hears an edge creeping into Jensen’s voice and gives their tangled fingers a quick squeeze.

“Did you see an orthopedist and were they able to determine what caused the condition? Did they suggest any surgical procedures or therapies to straighten your legs?”

“I was born a preemie, the orthopedists my parents consulted decided my condition was attributable to that.” Jensen replies tersely, dropping his vocal range. Jared gripped his hand harder, telling him to cool the attitude. “The doctor didn’t recommend surgery but sent me to physical therapy, thought it would help them straighten as I grew.”

“So no others in your immediate family have this issue?”

“Everyone my family has straight legs, including my three children.”

Jared piped in, “He hates it but he does have an exercise regimen; stretching, strength training. Oh, he also takes several different vitamins, omega oils, turmeric and extra vitamin D to support his joints.” They watched the doctor scribble a few more notes in the file before closing it.

“Mr. Page,” Jared sits up straighter in his chair, “I appreciate that you went into detail about your mental health status. I see you’ve recently been hospitalized, your medications have been changed to an alternative regiment and you’ve also increased your therapy sessions?”

Jared’s interview continued for another twenty minutes as Dr. Rodgers questioned him in depth about his depression and anxiety, feeling said anxiety ratcheting up so he focused on Jensen’s thumb rhythmically moving over his hand and used every ounce of his acting skills to appear confident and in control.

Dr. Rodgers closed his file, “I only have a few general questions left then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”

After a more relaxed, genial conversation with the doctor, Sissy took them to a couple private rooms with paraphernalia to help stimulate them into producing a couple semen samples.

Jensen was getting close to finishing with his favorite spank-bank fantasy when he felt Jared’s frustration across their bond.

~~~

Jared couldn’t get aroused.

He felt as useless as his flaccid cock.

His doctor warned him that loss of sex drive could be a possible side effect of his new regiment until his body adjusted to it. He had struggled with temporary impotence a few times on his old meds, always fearful Jensen would finally see him as undesirable, no longer a satisfactory mate.

Rationally, he knew it was his illness causing these exceptionally hard to deal thoughts recently and the nagging idea this wasn’t the right thing for them to attempt again continually kept creeping in.

Jensen’s unspoken reluctance about having more children at his age was also weighing on his conscience, warring against his own biological longings.

They had a humongous argument when he told Jensen about taking the appointment. Jen thought this was the wrong time to attempt it again, pointing out he was just getting his equilibrium back setting Jared went off on a rant about how he no longer wanted him and would leave him like Genevieve had because he was too broken to deal with anymore.

Unmitigated anguish was written across Jensen’s beautiful features, the very notion that Jared could conceivably believe that he’d ever abandon him made his soul hurt in such a way no verbal language on earth could ever express his devastated feelings traveling across their bond.

***

Everything they’d been through; from that bar fight solidifying their friendship, Jared’s first breakdown, the years of living as roommates while secretly a couple to finding wives who understood their unique relationship and still married them both in 2010.

The joyous arrival of JJ three years later that unfortunately exacerbated Genevieve's frustration of not being able to conceive coming out with a vengeance at Jared. His unexpected breakdown in Switzerland was the final nail in their marriage. Gen was there for him but in the end it was all too much and she filed for divorce.

Shortly after, Jared’s iCloud account was hacked. It was believed, but never conclusively proven, that Gen was behind it since her lawyer was trying to break their prenuptial agreement, the videos documenting his private and explicit sexual relationship with Jensen were legally considered adulterous. In the end, the court upheld the legal document but the ramifications...

They were summoned to L.A. for the meeting from hell with WB executives, both convinced it was the end of Supernatural and their careers.

After the reaming out, they each received a weeks pay suspension to cover some of what it was gonna cost PR in time and money to deal with the inevitable repercussions and placate the show's sponsors.

How would the show’s fans react? Would they still be able to accept them as brothers only on TV while in real life they were involved in a highly stigmatized relationship?

When they returned to work there was an atmosphere of tension that hadn’t existed before. It was an open secret that all shows had their share of bitchiness and backstabbing behind the scenes. Jensen may have the thicker skin, keeping tighter control on his emotions, but Jared knew it hurt him just as deeply the loss of some of their friends because of prejudicial, social beliefs that two Alpha males shouldn’t be involved.

Jensen’s parents showed up unexpectedly in Vancouver a few weeks later. What started out as a not quite comfortable visit quickly deteriorated with his religiously conservative parents. They had not raised him like this and blamed Jared, saying he had corrupted him, leading him into a sinful lifestyle. He needed to repent and return to his wife to whom he had made a commitment before god.

Jensen blew up, replying it was none of their business, it was between them and oh, yeah, Danneel knew about them before marrying him and they better not say anything to her. Without another word his parents left. When he later called them to make amends, his mother coolly stated that he was no longer part of their family and to never contact them again.

Three months after the twins were born in 2016 came the finalization of Jensen’s divorce from Danneel, painful but congenial. They easily agreed on joint custody and still spent most holidays together. Jensen gave Dani financial security in their settlement, he wanted to make sure she didn’t have to worry about working again unless she wanted to.

All these years later, Jared continually has nagging thoughts that they had let everybody down. They received support when they publicly came out as bisexual then lost some of it when they married, being mocked for not coming out as gay.

***

There was another knock at the door and Jared ignored it, it was that nurse checking on his lack of progress again. The knock turned into pounding, “Jared, open this door now dammit!” He flinched realizing Jensen knew what was going on with him. Releasing the privacy latch and opening the door a crack he saw concerned green eyes only.

“Sorry, I thought you were that nurse,” he stepped away and sat back down as Jensen came in and re-latching it behind him. “She came to get me when you stopped answering,” Jensen said, walking over to him and started running his thick fingers through his husband’s long hair, “what’s going on babe?”

He glances up knowing that Jensen already knew, “It’s okay Jay, take as long as you need.” He paused at the unpleasant scent wafting around him. “If you’d be more comfortable we could do this at home…” Jared shakes his head, “There’s the risk of damage, contamination and or not able to get it back in time that could make the semen unusable.” Jared quotes from a website.

Jensen softly chuckled, “Nerd.”

Jared notices the bulge in his jeans, “You didn’t...”

“Drain the snake..choke the chicken..spank the monkey.”

“Fuck, okay, you didn’t! Stop using old man slang.” He shook his head smiling  at Jensen intentionally goading him.

Jared reached up for the hand playing in his hair, grasping it to draw Jensen down next to him.

“Jack, I don’t want to wait any longer on doing this. I love JJ and the twins, you know I do, but they'll always be yours and Danneels. I know the timing could be better... but I'm almost thirty-eight and I want my..our own pups running around the house driving us crazy.”

“For the next eighteen years?”

“Minimum.”

tbc

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @lyarr24

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

[tfrohock]

When my brain is screaming ...

I remember driving home one day in January, and while I appeared calm on the outside, my brain was literally screaming. All around that thin white noise, my thoughts swirled around things I had to do, the events of January 6, the day at work. I couldn’t think or plan, worse still, I couldn’t write. It was like the sensory overload overwhelmed my ability to function. Each and every time I thought I’d be all right when …

… when the election was over …

… when January 6 was over …

… when the inauguration was over …

,,, when … when … when …

And when never came.

None of the coping techniques that I’d been taught through years and years of therapy were working. No matter what I did, I couldn’t slow down my runaway thoughts. I never had thoughts of self-harm, but I remember several instances of having a truly great day and then suddenly, I felt terribly depressed for absolutely no reason.

But there was a reason. I knew there had to be a chemical imbalance of some sort going on.

That was when I knew it was time to get help.

I called my doctor and set up an appointment with his PA, who is absolutely wonderful. She and I spent some time together, discussing my various issues. While I was there, I mentioned my back spasms, weakness in my upper arms, the fatigue, my inability to remember was so great that I was constantly putting memo reminders on my phone, how some days I felt like my body was curling in on itself and it took such a great effort to just get through the day.

She diagnosed me with anxiety/depression and prescribed a mild anti-anxiety medication. She believed the back spasms, weakness, and fatigue were all symptoms of anxiety, because women tend to experience tension in the shoulders and neck. Before we went to the expense of specialists, she wanted to know if I was okay with giving the medication a chance to work. She wanted me to ease into it with a half-pill for the first eight days and then move to a full dose.

More than willing to do things her way, I picked up my prescription later that day and waited until the weekend to start the meds. The relief was almost immediate. I got the first good night’s sleep that I’d had in ages and awakened the next day refreshed.

I was shocked to find just how debilitating the anxiety was and the effect it had on my physical health. The back spasms, weakness, fatigue, and memory issues … all symptoms of anxiety, and after a few weeks on medication, those symptoms are gone.

I feel calmer and more productive, both at my day job and at home. More than anything, my creativity has returned.

For the last four years, work on the Los Nefilim novels have saved my sanity, and the deadlines involved helped me immensely. I loved writing the books and the characters, and the deadlines gave me a focal point that enabled me to produce a work on time. It was only after I turned in the final draft of A Song with Teeth that I began to feel adrift.

I barely wrote during the last part of the summer and through the fall. I worked through research and by sketching in scenes, but I felt no real attachment to the new book or its characters. For a few weeks in December, I wondered if I’d lost the ability to write.

Now that the chemicals in my brain have stabilized, I’ve probably written more words in the past month than I have in the last six. It’s been positively amazing to me how much anxiety controlled my life up until that visit with my PA.

I’ve even started to dream again—something that had stopped for several months.

It’s strange sometimes how we adjust to feeling bad so that it feels “normal,” and we forget what it’s like to feel good.

I’m feeling more myself than I have in at least a year, maybe longer. I’m being to kind to myself, and I’m taking time to nurture myself. I’ve been dipping into the creative well by reading more fiction and watching more films.

I’ll be blogging more, and I’m looking at resurrecting my newsletter, making a commitment to writing at least one letter a month. I’ll be talking a lot about Los Nefilim over the coming weeks, especially about writing historical fantasy and A Song with Teeth.

In short: I’m back.

Watch for me …

[willgaham]

Aaa! I was looking at your ADHD Crowley edits and ended up reading some of your personal posts. I can relate so much! If it isn’t too personal, would you mind sharing some stuff about your recent diagnosis? Cause I’m 22 (also a lesbian 💫), I believe I have it, but my family doesn’t believe in psychiatry (they believe it’s just a way for corporations to drug people up and steal their money) and I only got my first job last month, so I still can’t afford going to the doctor myself.

do you want to know something specific or just about my diagnosis in general? i’m gonna rant a little now but feel free to send questions if you want me to go into depth about something

i didn’t even consider possibly having adhd until last october when some guy in a lecture leaned over to me to reprimand me for bouncing my legs, something along the lines of: “you got adhd or what? sit still,” said in a very condescending tone of voice (fuck that guy lmao)

i’m a very curious person so naturally i had to google it as soon as i got home that day and what i found just completely blew my mind. i never connected the dots before because i just didn’t know what adhd was, but when i read up on it, i felt understood and valid in a way i never had. i think i called the nearest neurologist specialised in diagnosing adhd in adults that same week because, after twenty years, i was just done waiting?? they sent me some forms to fill out that consisted of two parts: one that i had to fill out and one that someone close to me had to fill out; i chose my mom for this because it also included questions about my childhood (adhd symptoms have to be present before the age of 12 to get a diagnosis - in germany at least, other countries might have different rules)

i sent the forms back and made an appointment for march (in october so i had to wait half a year sigh). in the meantime, i went to see one of my college’s psychiatrists. for some reason i got incredibly lucky because i happened to get an appointment with one who also has adhd so she referred me to a therapist that she thought would be a good fit for me - turns out she wasn’t so i had to change therapists after a few weeks, but that’s totally alright because they usually advise you to do that anyway to make sure you find someone who you can actually work with. therapy is based on trust and personal comfort, and if you can’t achieve that with the person sitting in front of you, therapy won’t work.

the therapist i went to after that is still my therapist today and i went there regularly until may (i still see her every other week because i’m mostly okay at the moment so i don’t have to go all that often anymore). we had some introductory sessions at first where she asked me questions and all of that, and after about five of them she had to give me a diagnosis in order to request therapy sessions from my health insurance (again, this might just be a german thing, i don’t know how it works in other countries but in germany you have to request therapy from your health insurance or you’ll have to pay for it yourself). my diagnosis is adhd + a mixture of mild depression and anxiety. fun fact: you rarely only have adhd because the struggles of living with it in a society that doesn’t accommodate neurodivergent people often causes your mental health to suffer.

the diagnosis i got from my therapist didn’t allow me to get meds though because she can’t prescribe them, so i started therapy but still had to wait until my appointment in march to get an “official” diagnosis and medical treatment.

the neurological testing i did was split into three parts: an EEG, some concentration, reaction time etc. tests and some more questionnaires, but this time with a neurologist/psychologist present. i had to go there twice, and the second time i finally got my diagnosis and a prescription for some meds to try out (that was at the end of march). it took some time to find the right dosage and i suffered from mild headaches, sleep problems and annoying tics for the first few weeks, but all of that subsided eventually and now i don’t have any noticeable side effects anymore (except for a reduction in hunger but i think most people experience that with stimulants)

so, yeah, that’s the process of how i came to my diagnosis. my little sister actually got evaluated for it as well (adhd is hereditary and my dad has strong adhd symptoms) and she’s gonna start medical treatment after our holidays.

dealing with a diagnosis of this kind after twenty years of struggling with it is still hard at times, but it gets easier and easier. at first i was really sad and angry, so angry, at every single teacher i ever had who looked at me, saw my symptoms and never said anything about it, and i cried a lot, not gonna lie. it hurts and it’s hard not to think about the life i could have had if i had known about having adhd earlier, but i can’t change anything about it anyway so i try not to think about these things

that’s all, i guess. if you have any questions or something like that, please let me know!

[pimpson18]

Month of the Sad Boy

I know this is tl;dr as heck but whatever, here you go.

In honor of #MentalHealthAwarenessMonth, I decided to have probably the worst breakdown I've ever experienced in my life. I'm ok now, but I feel compelled to share my experience, because as much as I appreciate all the memes saying "It's ok to take a day off" and "Being Bipolar isn't just moodiness", I feel like it makes struggling with mental health issues feel "cute".

It feels like struggling with mental health is a brand that's being promoted. Burger King made freaking UNHAPPY MEALS for Christ's sake. Your brain might not be able to produce serotonin, but it's generating some great marketable content.

My Mental Health Awareness Month® started with the death of my grandmother. I tend to handle death and loss pretty well, but this absolutely wrecked me. At first, I thought this was because I had lost my final grandparent. An entire generation of my family was completely lost. Cue a heightened sense of mortality and existential dread.

This was also the first time I was over a thousand miles away from my family; Outside of reasonable driving range. Air travel costs $700-$1000 for a last minute ticket. Cue resentment and helplessness caused by capitalism and class struggles. It's reasonable that maybe my anxiety and depression would be heightened by this predicament.

Thanks to some help from my parents, I was able to make my way out to my grandmother's funeral and spend some time with my family. It felt nice spending time with them. We cried and laughed in equal measure. A salve filled the wound left behind from the loss. Healing had begun.

But something felt off.

My foundation had shifted.

In quiet moments, I felt fear. Not "ooohhh it's kinda dark and creepy in this room" fear, but "Dear lord the specter of death has their (that's right, death is a they. I'm progressive) hand around my heart" fear. I have never felt this way before. It was terrifying. I truly thought I was dead.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. Every second all I could think was, "You've lost your mind. You're dead. You'll never stop thinking like this. You've lost your mind. You're dead."

It was like The Tell Tale Heart but I hadn't murdered anyone. My only crime was being alive and having a brain.

There would be moments where I could distract myself. I could get caught up in a conversation, or watch something engaging enough on TV, but these moments were fleeting. I'd feel myself get pulled back in, the demons inside dragging me, clawing and screaming, back into the endless abyss. I’m not being melodramatic here. If this were an UNHAPPY MEAL, it would be the Supreme Deluxe Family-sized XXL Jumbo Anxiety Box with a Large Cup of Depression and a tote bag full of Chili Cries (Sorry, it was too easy).

The thoughts went on for weeks. It was constant. Each passing thought a stone piling on top of the last one, slowly crushing me. I was trapped inside of myself. It was the opposite of an out of body experience. I was withdrawing deeper and deeper, sanity slipping further and further out of reach. I was plummeting like a rat that had been given a pair of brand new concrete shoes.

During all of this, I was seeking the help of professionals. I’ve been seeking help since I moved out to DC. My wife (who is a saint deserving of a thousand Michelangelo murals) and I left hundreds of messages with psychiatrists. A few have gotten back. Most of them weren’t available for an appointment well into the fall. Nothing really soothes an anxious breakdown like sitting and waiting.

We kept searching. I tried getting a teleconference with a psychiatrist so I could get at least some temporary relief. The app my insurance provided me hooked me up with some dude who was holed up in Alaska. He was an older gent who could only seem to get his wispy white comb-over in the frame of my phone screen. I don’t remember his name, but he was very warm and considerate. He recommended I double the amount of Welbutrin I was taking to help curb my anxiety.

“Isn’t Welbutrin an upper? Won’t that actually make my anxiety worse?” I asked.

“It is an upper but it will actually help lower your anxiety.” He said comfortably from his remote psychiatric ward/icefishing hut in Alaska.

One of us was right, and it wasn’t the person who has a license to be a psychiatrist.

I receded further. The thoughts of death and insanity looping tighter and tighter around me like dual anacondas, preparing to swallow me whole like Jon Voight in the movie Anaconda, only I wasn’t going to pop back out and wink at Jennifer Lopez and Ice Cube. My wife consoled me as I sobbed in her arms, terrified I would never be able to enjoy another second with her ever again. This had been my life for two weeks, why would it ever stop?

My wife finally found me a psychiatrist who could see me immediately. A stroke of luck! She also found a therapist who specialized in CBT and sounded like a nice guy on the phone who could see me the same day. A two-for-one luck special!

The psychiatrist was part of a larger “mental healthcare group”. Whoa! Cool! It’s like they’re the Avengers of giving out happy pills!

Not really. It’s more like they’re brain farmers herding sad cattle into a slaughterhouse, grinding them into a bunch of manufactured Happy Paddies™. I got prodded into a cold, desolate office where a woman stared unblinkingly at a tablet, while she entered all my symptoms into some kind of program. The algorithm confirmed my medications were out of whack and suggested I #glowup the milligrams of my bipolar meds, while I cut down on the Welbutrin, which was not sparking my joy. The psychiatrist never made eye contact with me and the visit ended within 10 minutes. It was just like my wedding night, hey oh!

Next was the therapist. I thought I wanted eye contact until I saw this dude. He was 100 going on 100,000 years old. His eyes were bloodshot, his office smelled like soup, and his phone rang at least 20 times. It felt more like an interview to be his caretaker. I was so deep within my mind that I was about to fall down my throat and into my stomach.

The icing on the Shit Cake™ was when I mentioned that I did comedy (I can’t help but brag about myself, even when I’m completely collapsing. I’ll probably plug my Twitter page on my deathbed.). He stopped the therapy session and began plugging his side hustles. He mentioned that he did career counseling and could help me get gigs that paid upward of $40-$50 an hour. He also said I should bring by show flyers for him to look over. He dabbled in graphic design.

I was furious. Our session was 45 minutes in. I had opened up, cried, and begged for relief. He merely saw me as an opportunity. Someone he could upsell.

I had some choice words and stormed out.

Tears ran down my cheeks as I got in my car. They were bitter and hopeless.

At least I got a new prescription.

Turns out that was actually a decent enough solution. I’m 5 days into my new medication regiment and I’m close to normal again. The thoughts will pop up every now and then, but they’re faint and go away quickly. I’ve had two good days in a row. Feels like I’ll have a lot more.

The reason why I wrote all this is two-fold:

1. I like the attention

2. I wanted to show what the struggle looks like in all its ugly glory.

Depression, anxiety, bi-polar, etc. can be managed, fought back, and abated; sometimes for short periods of time, sometimes for years and years. It can be like a common cold or it can be full blown brain AIDS. You may need to take a mental health day; you might need to go to the ER.

Treatment can be as capricious as the sickness itself. You may feel safe, seen, and cared for. You might feel like a product on a conveyor belt, being inspected by an uncaring factory worker or gobbled up by an unqualified Lucille Ball (does this metaphor track? I think it does.)

Mental illness is hard because even the person suffering through it doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Sometimes all we need from others is to know that. Sometimes we might appreciate some effort, like going out and getting us an UNHAPPY MEAL™.

[ducklover52]

On the close #WorldMentalHealthDay I wanna say how proud I am of my friends going to therapy and taking care of themselves.

Also how jealous I am.

warning: this is a very long/extremely personal post. if you don’t wanna get into it, basically, I’m proud of you for going, I’m proud of you for trying, I’m jealous of your strength, of finding a good fit and sticking it out to do so. I wish us all the strength we need to ask for help (we’re not weak, but I know that it feels that way, especially when you’re deep in it), the resources to make it work, and the success of finding someone/something that works for you.

I promise, you can stop here. goodnight.

No? Then strap in because this went on tangents I wasn’t even planning on and I’ll admit I even got lost along the way. I think I picked it back up at the end but oof, it took a minute to get there and that transition isn’t good. Okay here we go:

I saw a therapist a few times during my senior year of college. My ex had started seeing one earlier. I had gone with him a couple times and he helped convince me that it was time. I had lost my mom two years earlier. I thought it would help and he said it would.

His guy wouldn't see me/didn't have time to? I don't remember what exactly the issue was. He gave me a number. I called her and we set up an initial meeting, with my ex's help. I never had the "strength" to ask for help by myself. He came with me the first couple times, just to the appointment itself-not into our meeting. I stopped asking him to go with me after a couple weeks. I was over him. I didn’t want to see him at all in my life and I hated associating him with therapy.

I didn't like my therapist. I didn't think she really understood me. I told her about feeling rejected when I didn’t get cast in the last musical of my college career. She basically said oh well. I told her about the stress I was feeling to get my requirements done. She said make a list. I had a list; I’d been checking off my degree audit since freshman year. I didn’t feel any connection. I stopped wanting to share and started feeling judged. I had always been anxious about seeing her to begin with. I stopped seeing her January before I graduated. I had to miss an appointment to go to the regional theatre festival. I never called to reschedule. It wasn’t a good fit.

I met a guy at the festival. We fell fast and hard. We both had issues. He had someone to see/talk to about it. I didn’t. I remember being jealous of having a doctor who prescribed anti-anxiety meds. I also remember him needing substances to assist the meds, or replace them when he couldn’t get his prescription refilled. I didn’t envy that. When I had had enough of being ignored, as he lived 3hrs away and I was the only one willing to make the drive, I started seeing other guys.

Or rather, I started getting really drunk at parties. The “cast party” of my only time stage managing included getting really drunk at the student conductor’s apartment and playing strip spin the bottle. Sorority parties would lead to making out with a sister’s formal date or going home with a guy I’d known since freshman year. I’d talk with them for a week or so before making up shit about not wanting to date an underclassman since I was graduating. Once I actually started dating one of them, after bonding over our parents passing away. I decided he was too good for me, especially after I had gone to visit the theatre guy one night and the next day had to drive straight from Charleston to a Chipotle date and almost ran out of gas getting there. But that was right before finals, so the timing worked for me.

Before graduating, I started rehearsing for my first post-grad show. It was community theatre near my house, my best friends were in charge, and I was just happy to get a production credit and work with my friends. A friend in the cast started making friends and I followed suit. About a month in I was dating one of the leads.We spent almost every day together. We also drank together almost every night, but we were young and didn’t think anything of it. I thought this was it. I had always wanted a showmance and I got it. We talked about our feelings, about his ADHD, how he went to therapy every week. I thought I found someone else I could really connect to. I shared how I’d struggled with my self-image all my life, how I’d tried therapy but didn’t like it, how I wanted to try again but didn’t know where to start. I thought he could help. I thought he could save me.

But three months in and a party with my high school friends tore us apart. I still don’t really know what happened that night but it threw my into a whole new depression. It didn’t help that we had just agreed on a new show to audition for together. And of course we were both cast. And he started dating another cast member. I tried not to care but I was hurt and jealous. And he kept reaching out. He said we could be friends and I was desperate for attention. When I couldn’t see him I acted out by sleeping with a friend.

He acted upset but never really cared. He told me I needed to see and talk someone to help myself move forward in life. Then he’d stop for a day or so before coming back, usually while drinking. And she found out, though it’s not like I tried to hide it (hey girl, how’s it going) cause I was selfish. When she’d had enough she called it quits. I thought maybe we could go back to before. He stopped coming around. My heart was broken all over because their relationship ending didn’t mean ours would start again.

I had gotten on tinder while I was fooling around with him. During that time. I had matched with and started talking to my now bf. I don’t think he was really looking for anything then. We’d go through slow periods where I’d doubt myself and my worth if he didn’t reply. Eventually my bf ended up ghosting me. My ex had given me the contact info for a new therapist. I’d call the number and hang up before I stopped ringing. I’d visit the website and see how much I could do without giving them my info. I was nervous to start again. I didn’t know if I could trust these people, after they guy who showed me to them had given up on me. I never did get into contact with them. 

My bf came back into my life about 5 months later. But this time when we started talking we didn’t stop. We finally started dating. When I got moody, I tried to express how I felt and why. He did a good job of expressing his feelings and telling me how much he cared. I hadn’t experienced that in a while that I was feeling so good about us. During this time, my dad was dating someone. She and her two kids moved in over that summer. Shit got complicated. She and her kids destroyed my life. I leaned on my bf as much as I could, but we were long distance. My sister had just gotten engaged and she and her then fiance were doing some premarital counseling. She had had a lot of issues coming from my dad and his then fiance and it led to us all needing to go to a session.

During the one or two we attended, my sister tried to explain how we felt about our dad’s fiancee taking over. They’d ask me to chime in and I wouldn’t be able to speak for myself. I was scared. I was still living with my dad at the time and I couldn’t be honest about what I was feeling or experiencing. I was singled out during these sessions and asked about my mental health history and things I didn’t feel comfortable discussing with or in front of my family. I shut down. I was asked to find my own help or see someone else to discuss these things. And I couldn’t get the attention off me. At the time I felt picked on and judged. Like I did when I first talked to someone in college. I felt discouraged. I was scared.

Since then I’ve been kicked out of the house I grew up in, I’ve fought with my bf about the same topics I don’t even know how many times, and I’ve had a couple of the shittiest years to date, including things that I’m still not quite ready to discuss, even in anonymity on the internet. And through this all, and what I was eventually trying to make my way back to, I’ve known that I should probably be seeing someone. I have friends who are in therapy and I’m jealous. I want the relief that comes with sharing your thoughts and feelings with someone who’s job is to help you make sense of it all. But I’ve never found that. I don’t know what it’s like. I don’t know where to find it and I don’t know where to look. And now I’m off my dad’s insurance and couldn’t even afford it if I did.

I don’t know how to end this, except to again, praise those of you are seeking the help you need/want because good for you, you deserve it! We all do. If you’re not currently seeing a professional but you want to, I wish you nothing but success in finding someone you jive with because I know it’s not just a one and done situation. And to those of you like me who don’t know how to go from here, or how to reach out, or even what you want/need, I wish you clarity to figure it out and resources to try to make it work. I hope we all get what we need and deserve in the end.

[adhdgirls]

Call me Ellie!

About myself

For now, I want to stay anonymous, because I’m shy and I tend to get insecure about my persona online. Maybe I will reveal my face some day and give you my full name when I got used to this.

Anyways, here some things about me:

I am 22 years old

I live near to the beautiful alps 

I live with my parents

I currently go to college

I like to draw and I like my PS4

I like space, chemistry and biology

I still have no idea which profession I want to practice

English isn’t my first or even second language

Depending on the way you see it, I either have no hobbies or way too many

I’m kind of a nerd

I have to wear glasses (and i switched to contact lenses because I forget my glasses a lot. Now I forget about my contact lenses a lot.)

Maybe you already have an idea about me as a person so, let’s move on to the fun part?

How I got diagnosed

Short: 

Read an Article about ADHD, recognized myself in that, went through the 5 stages of grief, got diagnosed, went through the 5 stages of grief part two, got overwhelmed with daily life, finally got the help I needed, started to learn how to live with ADHD and how to deal with the shit I experienced.

Long:

The first time I suspected that I have ADHD was when I was twenty years old and read an article on vice about a guy who has inattentive ADHD. Ironically I did this during my work time because I was bored, while I had 30+ tabs open. I saw a lot of myself and my problems when I read it- hell, I even thought that I could have written it (expect the medication part).

After that began a very, very long year until i got the medical and therapeutical help which I needed.

I ignored this realization and denied that I might have ADHD, even if I did a lot of research on mental illnesses like BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), Depression, PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), Anxiety and Bipolar Disorder, always with the suspect that I might have it. 

I knew since my childhood that I was kind of different, but I never could explain or comprehend in which way. When I got older, I started to research for the reasons why I feel so off, so odd. I never expected that it was ADHD.

After a while I started to read articles, researches, studies, blogs, did online tests, read more posts from people with ADHD, search for doctors and ways how to properly diagnose it, check my school records, to which doctor to go, where to call, who to call, find out if the insurance pays it and so on...

Then I got the flu and when I went to my family doctor, I gathered my courage and told her that I suspect that I might have ADHD and that I like to get a screening and if she could get me to the people who do this. She did it (after a short questioning about the “common” symptoms).

It took a while until I had my appointment and in that time my parents found the invitation. The gate to hell was opened and there was a lot of screaming, arguing and tears. They couldn’t grasp the idea that their daughter might have ADHD and told me not to go to the screening. I did it anyway and got diagnosed.

My parents still can’t accept that I have ADHD and other people that were close couldn’t see the person they knew me as with ADHD. I was left alone with my diagnosis and a list of addresses where I could get further therapy, coaching and meds prescriptions. I ignored it.

I told myself “Well, I had it all my life, I will have it all my life and I already have an experience of 20 years of living with ADHD! Why bother?”

It got worse. I started noticing the behaviors and tactics that I unconsciously developed in order to compensate my inattention, memory disfunction and hyperactivity. I noticed that the way I handled things wasn’t healthy nor productive. I noticed how I spent every ounce of energy I had to keep my life in somewhat order. And I noticed how tired I am of all of it.

Fun thing is, after I recognized my unconscious behaviors and tactics I couldn’t use them anymore. It was like a dream- as soon you’re realizing that you’re dreaming, you wake up.

I realized I couldn’t handle my disability anymore and finally went to the therapist. I immediately got prescribed methylphenidate (MPD) and got further appointments with an ADHD coach. 

It was a hard time to get used to the meds, to the coaching, to the therapy. Over and over I had to talk about my issues with family, school, childhood and friends, and it took a while until we figured out which MPD dosage was the right for me.

I still have a lot to do to about it, everyday. It won’t go away, ADHD isn’t curable. Maybe it will get better or worse, but at least I can handle it better than before.

[onebrownwoman]

Lesson #23: I have depression.

October was National Depression Education & Awareness Month which has me thinking about my own journey to naming, accepting and treating my depression. Yeah, it’s November. It took me a while to pen this one, so here we are.

It was years into my own therapy when I was finally ready to see that I needed medication. It was right after a job interview. I’d been in hysterics before and after, triggered by some daily occurance - a comment from my partner, the delay of my train. I still feel so much shame about how terrible of a human I must have been to be around. I was in so much pain and I was hiding it from so many people. So I set up this emergency session with my therapist for that afternoon and I told her I’m ready to explore the medication option. 

Even now I feel this resentment that my therapist didn’t push me towards meds sooner. Couldn’t she see what a state I was in? How could she let me wait so long? But of course she’d suggested them, time and time again. When you aren’t ready you aren’t ready. And I’d dug my heels in for so long about not needing meds. To me, meds was just the ultimate admission of guilt and failure. I was a wrong sort of person if I was on meds. 

And then one day I just couldn’t stand being so miserable and I couldn’t be in denial anymore. I finally believed I deserved to live a better life.

You know what’s funny? Even then, what I thought would happen is I’d go to a psychiatrist and get some sort of anxiety medication. I was anxious, not depressed, right? 

And then I went to therapy and mentioned meds and she said - oh wonderful you’re going on anti depressants. And I genuinely had to ask her, why are you talking about anti-depressents like I’m depressed?

Denial is real, folks. Because now of course it is so obvious to me when I look back how depressed I’d been for so long. And it wasn’t like the commercials with the bouncy sad face bobbing along the rainy streets. It was constant misery and constant nothingness and constant meltdown.

I hated the idea of having to see a psychiatrist. But it’s true what they say - when the student is ready the teacher appears.

Dr. Hariprasad was this doctor that I was expecting to bombard me with Freudian questions and poo-poo at my talk-therapy practice. But he had a holistic approach to mental health which he and I talked about for a bit.

He said - you know Nina, it’s very clear from your questionnaire and our conversation that you’re suffering from anxiety and depression. Anxiety is the thing that makes you so focused on the future you move away from the present. And of course, depression is the thing that has you so focused on the past that you can’t be in the now.

What. The. Fuck.

He reminded me I wasn’t signing up for a magic pill. You’ve still got to do other things - meditation, yoga, whatever helps you feel centered. You can’t expect a pill to do all the work for you. But it will help. It will help your brain set you up for the possbility of feeling better. Because you have tried so many things to feel better and it isn’t your fault that you don’t - you need a bit of extra help here.

I cried and cried. I felt so much relief and felt so much like a failure. Why, why, why had I waited so long to come here? Why was it so hard to accept how miserable I was? Why did it feel so bad to ask for help in this way? But also - why wasn’t it a magical pill?

“What does it feel like?” I asked. “Will I feel nothing? Will I feel numb? Will I seem stoned all the time?”

He smiled. “You do have a lot of preconceived notions about medication, don’t you?” He walked me through the side effects.

“Do you wear glasses?”

“Yup and contacts. Since 7th grade,” I said.

“You remember when you get a new prescription and you wear those new glasses? You thought you were seeing everything so clearly but then you get your new glasses and you’re like oh man, I can see every leaf and every letter so much more clearly than I ever thought. How did I think I was seeing anything before?”

“Yes. It’s brilliant.”

“It’s like that, a bit,” he said.

And it was.

==== Six weeks later, I return for a follow up appointment. You seem lighter, he says.

“I feel lighter. I feel crazy for saying I feel lighter but I feel lighter.”

“What do you notice,” he asks.

“I heard birds this morning. I haven’t noticed birds in five years.”

He nods, understandingly. “Yes. It’s not a coincidence.”

To those of you who do not understand what it is to be treated for depression, you cannot understand what it is to have the life vest helping you float along the vastness of the ocean. It was not a magic pill but it WAS magical. There was a sense of hope and acceptance I had not felt in so long.

It had a price. I could no longer tolerate the things that continued to make me feel miserable. I was accutely aware of those things - the things that still made me feel utterly sad and upset. I left my job and started a new one. I shifted relationships with people. 

And although our relationship improved, I eventually left my partner. 

Meds give me strength. Meds keep me steady. Meds let me act upon all the things I’ve learned and experienced about depression and anxiety. 

I didn’t become happy all the time. I didn’t stop struggling. I didn’t stop having anxiety. I didn’t stop feeling depressed. I didn’t stop wanting to eat a bag of cheetos and watch 15 hours of television in a day with the curtains closed. 

But I had the strength to make different choices, to deal with that numbness differently. 

It strengthened my therapy practice too. I could take what I’d learned from therapy and actually apply it to my life. I could process without becoming completely exhausted from doing so. I could cry about one thing without it slipping seamlessly into crying about everything, all at once. 

I understand now what folks who struggle with their mental health deal with about the stigma of medication. How it’s portrayed in the media. I’ve seen the looks on people’s faces, the curiosity and skepticism. I’ve answered questions about how the pills don’t make me feel happy all the time. They aren’t a cop out for not being able to handle things on my own. I may be part of prozac nation or a western culture obsessed with medication, but it was still the absolute best choice for me and I’m grateful I had the means and the resources to get on meds. 

Dr Hariprasad left to start his own practice a few months later. I think of him asking me about the garden surrounding his office.

“So beautiful! There’s so much greenery. I didn’t notice the garden last time - it’s new right? There are these pretty pink flowers you have growing right outside your window, see?”

“Ah yes. Nina, the garden’s been there the whole time. You weren’t able to notice it.” 

“Oh,” I say, tearing up. “New glasses,” I say.

“New glasses,” he repeats.

I still feel shame that I couldn’t name my depression sooner. How many people’s lives I have strained as a result of not being able to manage my mental health. But there it is. It’s still not in me to forgive myself and that’s my own work to do, years later. But I have made strides - I did find the help I needed. I could finally accept that it’s ok that talk therapy and meditation and journaling weren’t enough.

To you reader who maybe wonders if it's ok to explore options for treating your depression, I say to you - It’s ok that you weren’t able to conquer this the way you envisioned, on your own, on some island. It’s ok to get the help you need to treat your mental health. 

It’s ok. It really was. It really is. 

[othercat2]

General Purpose Update

cross posted from dreamwidth

I am hot, tired and I have a headache.

Most of the morning and early afternoon was spent on the bus going to and from my physical therapy appointment. Due to the "not much food left" factor I didn't eat breakfast. PT was made especially fun due to the "headache that now isn't going away at all" and the lack of breakfast situation. Lots of muscles have gotten stretched and seem a bit stronger though I ended up with some sore muscles afterward. (I had some new lifts/exercises to go through and at one point I was walking on my heels while sitting on a little rolly stool. My hips were kind of sore as well as my legs.)

After the PT appointment I went to the pharmacy I usually got to and got a copy of all of my prescriptions I've been given. This is for the SSI/SSDI project. I previously sent the benefits specialist all of my current doctors names and addresses and I got the permission thingie from my therapy clinic, which I will fill out so that we can get my records from them. I also got a notice that I was late giving my interview for foodstamps, for which duh. (I now have to roughly the end of this month.)

Tomorrow I am going to my services/med clinic early to meet with my benefits specialist and give her the prescription list, and hopefully do the damn foodstamp interview. (The line will probably be very busy, even if we're early. I really, really wish DES would consider having their phone tree set up so that that you could leave your number and then get a call back, but no, that would be too convenient. Heaven forbid something like this be convenient and NOT ANXIETY INDUCING. I DON'T ACTUALLY WANT TO HAVE A GODDAMN MELTDOWN AT THE POOR CUSTOMER SERVICE PERSON.)

After the meeting with the benefits specialist, I am going to be going to the food bank and see if my case manager being right about just needing to give them my ACCCHS insurance card in order to get a food box.

Tuesday I am going to finally have a doctor appointment About The Headache That Never Quite Goes Away And Which I Am Possibly Overdosing On Ibuprofen To Just Take the Edge Off When It Gets Bad, That Seems To Be Worse After Being Asleep While Listening To Music And/Or Podcasts, Which Is Occasionally Accompanied By Blurry Vision Which Has Been Going On For Years But I Haven't Really Done Anything About Because I Am A Hot Mess Who Can't Get The Energy To Do Most Things Ever.

Note: I was basically inadvertently taught to actively ignore symptoms/problems because actually going to the doctor was more expensive and I really, really didn't want to have goddamn woo woo bullshit remedies pushed on me by family members. Cod liver oil people. COD LIVER OIL. For asthma. And garlic pills. And hot lemon and honey. And fucking hot Jello. (As in, dump a package of Jello in hot water and then drink it.) I am to this day pretty hostile to any "natural remedy" suggestions. (Brother thought I was against natural remedies just to spite him, but no, it's because I have a deep seated antipathy that has nothing to do with Brother being a goddamn moonbat, and everything with the ENTIRE FAMILY BEING MOONBATS.)

Note for the note: If your herbalism is actually based on the concept that you are dealing with remedies that have actual side effects and react in different ways with other medications you are fine and I will not eat your face. If you think herbal remedies are somehow more "pure" and inherently have NO side effects or interactions with other more standard medications, then you can kindly eat a five pound bag of apricot pits in one sitting. Just scarf that down like almonds, baby. Grind them up and put them in a big batch of muffins and feed the muffins to your family. And then you can go rub your face in whatever hellish remedy that literally makes your goddamn nose fall off that's apparently used for treating skin cancer "naturally." (Bloodwort I think?)

Yes I would say I was "triggered" by natural remedies. If by "triggered" you meant, "will go on a hellish tirade about them."

At some point in time I'm going to have to ask  my Job Counselor/VR Case Manager for a hiatus because I barely have the energy to do all of the above appointments AND something that is actually inherently stressful, unproductive and depressing such as my continuing job hunt. If I can hiatus the job thing I might be able to find the energy to do the pt exercises.

A couple months ago I tried to find out if I could get old school records from when I was in special ed back in Indiana. I initially sent an email but I haven't heard back: At some point in time I may have to call the schools myself. I may actually do that when I go see my therapist. Because I don't know if I'll have the energy to do it otherwise, since I was supposed to have done this some time LAST WEEK.

[bowiesnippleantennae]

here’s the skinny on what I’ve been going through lately!

you MIGHT know that I’ve been out of work for like two months. I was laid off and it was awful and I also ended a really long, serious relationship at the same time. So basically all of my security was ripped out from under me in the matter of two days! 

i already struggle with severe anxiety and depression so I knew I was going to fall fast if I didn’t get a job soon! it’s been months and I’m off my meds and every other day is a bad day and I’m struggling to keep happy and busy and it’s a fucking LOT. 

but, I am seeing my therapist which I pay for myself, I know what clinic I’ll be going to to get my prescription and I will be getting back on a higher dosage of my meds asap. 

more disclaimer: my sister lost her dad earlier this year and this was her first father’s day without him.

another disclaimer: she hardly had a relationship with him. he was me and my mom’s abuser. he pushed angela away constantly and was just an overall terrible person who suffered a lot for his behavior. last year’s father’s day, she just sent him a text. so, keep that in mind.

and another disclaimer: my dad doesn’t give two shits about father’s day. i talk with him whenever i can and it’s usually for a long time. i don’t need a special day to appreciate him, just fyi. keep that in mind as well.

aaand one more disclaimer: my sister is a slob, it’s a known fact, and i live in close proximity to her and it’s embarrassing and i hate it :)

K SO! 

i bring up the fact that she’s a slob on father’s day right after waking up because our bathroom was disgusting and im sick of cleaning up after her. i don’t even know what day it fucking is. she immediately bursts into tears and my mom... like a fucking banshee, starts screaming in my face. i don’t really have fights with my mom. but lately, she’s been very cruel to me and like, she can’t stand being in the same room as me, and i’m super connected to her and empathic and i can feel it. 

so she’s screaming at me, saying that i’m pathetic, attached to her hip, and i should feel ashamed that i still live at home. i don’t do anything worthwhile, i’m nasty to everyone in the house, i’m constantly saying mean shit under my breath. she brought up something i said 5 years ago (i had to think about it specifically and it was 5 years ago about her old, old car lmao i INSULTED HER CAR??? and now she’s in debt from buying a new one and that’s my fault.) said the phrase “i love you victoria, but you’re a fucking bitch,” and this went on for a bit. like every sort of insecurity i have, feeling like no one in the house can stand me, that i’m a burden on all of them, like they’d be better off if i just wasn’t there, all of it was confirmed and screamed in my face. 

so... i went into my room and i cried and then i had to pretend i was happy for a birthday party (glad i was able to get out of my house) and the next morning, i woke up and just... didn’t leave my bed. because why should i? if i make everyone in the house so fucking uncomfortable, why should i go be around them? and i felt bad for picking a fight with angela on father’s day. i shouldn’t have done that. so i cried about that a lot. and i cried because, you know, obviously my mother resents me. obviously i shouldn’t be around. OBVIOUSLY i’m not worth anything. no one came in to check on me. no one asked if i was okay lmao. i didn’t eat until everyone was actually asleep around midnight. i tried to leave my room but i was so scared of seeing any of them glare at me or try to make me feel worse, so i suffered in bed and cried a lot and only got up to pee. it was really bad. and i was, and am, insanely embarrassed about it. 

i woke up today feeling better. no one was home so i cleaned the living room and the kitchen and made myself some lunch and watched some big foot thing and then my mom comes home and i just, feel a cold chill run through me and the first thing she says is “oh, so you’re out of your cave today?” cute :) and i ignore it and then she says she talked to my dad and they think i should go live with him for a while. 

now, i’ve done that before- it didn’t work, and it hit me then that she’s not doing it for my benefit. she’s doing it so that i’m not near her. so she can take a break from me. she doesn’t have the guts to kick me out of the house so she’ll send me to my dad’s to save her conscience. she asked me what i thought about that and i was in shock so i said “i don’t know.” and she was like “WELL. YOU BETTER CARE.” and walked away. meanwhile, because of some other stuff, i was already spiraling, and then that happens so im just on the brink of tears again and i go in my room and cry again and then she comes in and is like “did you eat?” and i said “yes.” and she was like “oh okay” and left. and then I was able to go to a friend’s house and just kinda... stew in that. 

here’s where it gets fucked up. i call my therapist and talk to her and apparently my mom made some stupid status about terrorists HAVING TO BE mentally ill or else they wouldn’t like, kill people. which is insanely wrong and not backed by anything but okay. my friend who has a degree in psychology jumped on that immediately and was like “no.” another friend of mine said some things and then my mom said something that just... really showed me she resents me! 

she compared me to terrorists. she said she KNOWS that the cause is mental illness because they must grow up surrounded by extreme views and that I’M A PRIME EXAMPLE. LITERALLY USED MY NAME AND COMPARED ME... LIKE....?????? WHAT THE FUCK???? a few of my friends were like “that really pissed me off” and honestly, i’d love to see my mom ganged up on for once because in person, i can’t defend myself because she’s louder than me, she screams, and like most parents, she’s always right :) but other people who aren’t related to her standing up and telling her she’s wrong? man. it felt real good, especially after all the things she said to me.

so that hurt my feelings a whole lot!

here’s the kicker.

i called my dad after he got off work because i wanted to know what she said about me and how she worded it and good thing i did! i explained all of it to him. about how i’ve been feeling lately, about how the fight started and what she said to me. how it made me feel and why i stayed in my room all day. 

and he told me what she said to him.

she doesn’t think i have this month’s rent. i do. i still have 3 month’s worth of rent. but that’s it and i’m scared and i’m still applying to places.

she told him that SHE’LL have to pay for my psychiatrist (??? i don’t have one and never have?) and my clinic visit and my prescription. ?? I don’t know where she got this from. my therapist writes my referral. i found a clinic and i’ve never had her pay for it since i started working. she’s blowing things up. she’s freaking out for no fucking reason. 

so, here’s what i’m going to do.

she wants a break from me? okay. i can leave but it’s on my terms and it won’t cost anyone a fucking plane ticket. i have friends i can stay with for long periods of time that are still in central florida, so if i get an interview, i can make it, and when i get my clinic shit sorted, i can get back on my meds, and i can keep up with my therapy appointments. THAT’S how i get better. not fucking running away to another state just to rot there instead. i know what i need. i’ve been in therapy for 2 years now and it’s helped and i’ve learned a WHOLE LOT about myself and what is healthy. i’m not going to trust someone who argues with fucking professionals on something they studied for on social media. 

tonight, i talked to my sister for a really long time about it and apologized and also explained myself. why i lock myself away and how mom made me feel and what my plan is. i also talked to her about grieving and how my therapist offered her a free session for it and she finally said she hasn’t gone because she’s scared and doesn’t want to talk about it but i talked about how my grief session went and how much better i felt. i even said i’d go with her to it if it would help her feel better. i don’t know if it would but like, i know what it’s like to feel vulnerable. and i told her it’s better to deal with it now than later. 

i think that struck a chord with her. i hope she goes. 

because my mom told me i never showed any compassion to her when it came to her dad. :) i’m the only one who kept bringing up the grief session. mom is an enabler and once angela started to seem uncomfortable, she went momma hen instantly and attacked me. so! 

tl;dr my mom bitched at me for seemingly no reason, is going through her own shit and taking it out on me, the family punching bag again, and i’m not standing for this shit anymore! :)

[wilwheaton]

Hey Wil, I'm going to the psychiatrist tomorrow for the first time since I was a kid. I'm scared. I believe I'm struggling with depression and anxiety, my girlfriend that suffers from that too also thinks I have these problems. She's the one who's been insisting for me to get help and I finally caved and got an appointment. I feel really lost. I don't think I'll have support from my family in this. My mom mocks my girlfriend's problems with depression. Any advice?

I’m sorry that your mom doesn’t respect your mental health. Maybe she’s scared, because a lot of people feel like depression and anxiety are weakness. One of the reasons I talk about it so much, and without any shame or hesitation, is to help change that. I’m sorry that you aren’t getting the support that you need from your family. That sucks a lot. 

It doesn’t mean that you aren’t worth taking care of yourself. It doesn’t mean that you should just suck it up and deal with it, because your mom is uncomfortable addressing it.

I’m sure you’ve heard me say this before, but I’m going to say it again: if you had any kind of serious physical illness that prevented you from living a full and joyful life, you’d go get treatment. You’d get a broken leg mended and you’d probably have physical therapy to help you get used to walking on it again. You’d get medication and make changes to your diet if you had diabetes (nee diabeetus). You’d wear eyeglasses if you needed to correct your vision. The list goes on and on, and you can probably see where I’m going right now: mental health is no different. 

I’m really proud of you for standing up for yourself, and for reaching out. I know that it’s scary. It was scary for me the first time I went to talk to a doctor, too. That’s totally normal. It’s also normal to feel lost, because you probably feel like you don’t know what to expect. I’m going to tell you what my first experience was like: I made an appointment to see the doctor, and I went to it. I signed in, and the receptionist gave me some forms to fill out. This included questions about my insurance and stuff, and a few pages of questions about my medical history, my family history, and why I was there. I answered the questions briefly, and honestly, which is really important. I gave them back to the receptionist, and then I waited for a few minutes. The office had a lot of aquariums, so I watched a bunch of big goldfish with the big googly eyes swim around.

The doctor came out and invited me into his office. I sat down on a couch across from him. If I wanted to lay down, like you see in movies, I could do that, but I didn’t have to. I chose to sit up. He asked me why I was there, and to describe my feelings to him. He was kind and a good, active listener. We spoke for about 20 minutes or so, though it felt much longer. I don’t recall the exact specifics, but I do remember that he said, “please let me help you. I’m going to give you a prescription, and I want you to come back in a week so we can see how it’s working for you.”

I got my prescription filled, and I started my meds the next morning. I didn’t feel anything for a few days, until I was walking with Anne and I realized that, for the first time in decades -- maybe in my whole life -- I didn’t feel overwhelmed and worried and scared and anxious and frustrated. I’ve described it like walking out of a loud room that I’d been in for so long, I didn’t realize how loud it was until all that was left was the ringing in my ears.

I went back after a week, told him how I was doing, and he didn’t change anything. He had me come back every couple of weeks for a few months until it was clear that the meds were working, and then we changed it to every three months. 

Eventually, after a couple of years, I needed to change up my medication, because that’s a thing that happens. It wasn’t a big deal, and I’ve been on that medication and dose for like five years.

It isn’t like this for everyone, and your experience may be different. You may try a medication that doesn’t work, or makes you feel physically ill. That can happen, because everyone’s body chemistry is different. I understand that it used to happen a lot, but modern antidepressants are much more advanced and have fewer side effects than the ones that were widely prescribed as recently at 15 years ago. So it’s unlikely that you’ll have problems, but I want you to know that it’s a possibility, so that if it does happen, you don’t think that there’s something wrong with you. It really is different for everyone, and sometimes you have to try a couple of different things before you find the one that works for you.

Boy, this is a lot to take in. I think I’ll go ahead and be quiet now, right after I point you to a thing from yesterday where we talked about writing down the things you feel, the questions you have, and the things you’re concerned about, so that when you get into the office, you don’t have to worry about forgetting things.

I’m going to repeat this: I’m very proud of you. I know that it’s scary, I know that you feel lost and alone right now. You’re doing a very courageous thing, getting help for yourself, and talking with a doctor.

It’s gonna be okay. YOU are going to be okay. I promise. Please let me know how it goes, and if you prefer that I keep your next post to me confidential, I respect that. 

[rustbeltjessie]

Today: finally got my oldest kiddo an ADHD diagnosis and a prescription for ADHD meds. (We’ve suspected he’s ADHD as well as autistic for a while now, but waiting lists and bureaucratic red tape are a thing, so it took a while to actually make this happen.) Later, I went to the post office to check my PO Box and buy a sheet of stamps, and the postal worker at the counter was thee hottest futch, like so hot I was flustered just talking to them. And then after that I went to the drugstore to pick up my kiddo’s meds, and I browsed through the makeup section cuz I really need some new eyeliner, but I couldn’t afford any because eyeliner costs like $10-15+ now?! I had a split second where I considered just pocketing some but being that I am no longer a teen or 20-something, and that I have kids of my own, I’m no longer willing to risk getting arrested for stealing fucking eyeliner.

In general, I’ve been really on top of shit lately. Had some literary contests and magazines I wanted to submit to that required submission fees, so I found an extra little side hustle to make money for those, and then sent them in. I’m very close to being done with the new issue of my zine. I’ve got D. on meds and have also got the process going for him to get other therapies and community help. I’ve signed the other kid up for some art and science classes he’s interested in. I’m considering going back to school for something quite different than I ever studied before, and I sent away for information from a couple nearby universities. And I made a dentist appointment for myself, even though I have hella dental anxiety. (Truly, going to the dentist is one of my least favorite things in the world. I would rather spend an entire day at the DMV than go to the dentist. I would rather fly than go to the dentist, and I hate flying.)

Lol, but I’ve long suspected I’m ADHD but never pursued a diagnosis, and there are some common ADHD things that I don’t relate to, so when I hear those I’m like oh, no, maybe I’m not. But like half the stuff the doc was talking about today I was like: “Oh. Me, me, me again, also me.” So…

And I’m really happy I’ve found a teeny side hustle to pay for submission fees. Now I just gotta find a way to make that sweet, sweet eyeliner money…

[passingthru]

introduction part 1

hello tumblr. i’ve made this awkward decision to write about having bipolar disorder. Partly to de-stigmatize it, partly to get or give support to whomever passes by, and, partly because I need an outlet where I can slowly lay out all the chaos in my head and find some peace and order doing so.

I’m somewhere in Asia, and i’m closer to 40. I only started receiving treatment for bipolar disorder end of 2015, but I’ve been on and off anti-depressants since 2012. Prior to 2012, I was doing well enough. Survived a lot of things, was living independantly. Had a good enough job. Then I had a major depressive cycle that slammed me for a month or so. It was so uncharacteristic of me to simply not go to work, I just didn’t show up, I stayed in my room. I ate sparingly, I slept whenever, I lost my concept of time. I started to get afraid of people at the door, I struggled to go out and get food, and I didn’t look after myself or my pets well. No washing, no chores. At first, I was just so overwhelmed with emotions I cannot really define, but I needed to let something out. Somehow, cutting came into my head. So I did run a blade over my thigh. It was only when I saw blood welling up and out, that I felt that I could breathe. Subsequently, I did it whenever I felt panic. And then I just lost all energy. The days blurred together. I can’t remember who came to look for me first, it might have been my boss, or my siblings. Whoever it was, it was obvious to all that I simply wasn’t functioning. Hence, we sought professional help. That’s when I started getting anti-depressants, and sleeping pills. I gave up my job, and home, and moved in with my parents.

My treatment for depression was not productive. It was chaotic. I went through so many different cocktails of anti-depressants and sleeping pills over a period of 2-3 years. Sometimes I was OK, sometimes I wasn’t. I was probably, what do they call it? hypomanic, at some intervals. (I’m actually still not so sure about the distinction between hypomania and mania yet, so…) I didn’t feel like cutting when I was anxious but there was a time, I was so enraged over something, that I cut myself on my thigh through my trousers, and they were deeper and messier cuts. I just didn’t feel them, I guess. I’m not sure if this was a manic or depressive phase. My memory started to lapse. My sleep was not restful. I started to mis-manage my medications. I stole extra pills from my mom’s prescription sleeping pills. I felt so desperate, because I just wasn’t myself for so long, and I was tired. When my meds ran out, I didn’t return to see the doctor.

fast forward to 2015. My family says I was manic. I had registered a business, and was running an e-commerce shop from my bedroom. I was also freelancing doing odd jobs. They said I didn’t stop to eat, or rest. I was smoking like a chimney, and spending money I couldn’t afford to spend. I solicited funds from friends and family to try to make it all work. I got hoodwinked, and invested money and effort into a money scam. After I realised what I had lost, something peaked. Next thing I know, my brain slowed down. My body slowed down. I had to wrap a package and send it out to a customer. God, it took me about half an hour to write the address, and place the stamp. My body and brain and eyes were just not working. It was like I was a zombie. Then I stopped being aware of my surroundings and my actions. I found out later that these were signs of psychomotor retardation, probably in response to stopping my medication. This lasted for 4 months, probably because my family were split into camps about what to do with me, how to handle it, etc. Seeing that I seemed lazy or uninspired, I was booted to another country and into a rehab programme that promised to keep me active. Somehow, with all the twists and turns and decisions and arguments my family had, I ended up there. This turned out to be hell on earth.

For one thing, this facility ... I don’t think it was legit at all. It was privately run. They said it was group therapy for “troubled people” and drug addicts/sex addicts, whatever, but it was actually just a boot camp. Not therapy. We were all lumped together and drilled 24/7 like we were in the army PRISON. Strip searches were a daily affair. You’re handcuffed if you have to leave the facility to see a doctor, for example. I was handcuffed several times. You bathe in the open bathroom (there are cubicle doors but they won’t let you close them) for an allowance of 5 mins, with a bucket of water. male and female dormitories and bathrooms are separate, small blessing. Punishments included standing all day and facing the wall, or washing floors with wet rags and buckets of water. They didn’t have mops. You have to shout all day long responding to people and be shouted at yourself. kinda like shouting yes, sir! and yes, maam! all day but it was not in English. They called it shouting therapy, so that you would be able to cope with stress on the outside. You don’t have time enough to pee, so you do it at the same time while brushing your teeth. Always made to run from place to place. I think it would be hard enough on anyone really, but I really couldn’t function and couldn’t cope with all of that. I’ve been through a uniformed group bootcamp before, so i’m used to undergoing training. but this was a place where they really stripped you down of your identity. here, i was a dog.  I couldn’t sleep. Physically (yes, I’m gonna spell it all out), I couldn’t poop. I didnt have time to, and maybe I was just too stressed. I also stopped having my period. I was in full anxiety over hygiene, and all sorts of EVERYTHING. I was denied contact with my family and I lost all hope. I was supposed to be in touch with their in-house psychiatrist but it turned out to be a weekly affair in group sessions, not one-on-one. Their programme wasn’t in my language. I just had to pick up their lingua. Every time I asked for help, I got mocked first. They just kept on saying that I was trying to manipulate them. And it never solved anything. The other rehab people, called trainees, were so unnerving. they were like sheep outwardly, then secretly cussing out the rehab facilitators and programme and the people who put them in it. they kept telling me to blend in, and wait it out for 12 months. I was like, 12 months??? whaaat? I was stressed but I wasn’t the only one. the whole group got called for punishment because someone in the boy’s shower left poop on the floor during bath time. well honestly, if you don’t give us time for our daily ablutions, an accident like that will happen. honestly, they treated us like we weren’t human, always deriding us, talking down to us, removing our basic rights. Ugh! The bad memories. Suffice it to say, one day I stabbed myself repeatedly (pencil, no major damage), and was subsequently kept tied up. Why did I stab myself? I was freaking out. By that time, I just wanted to kill myself, and I was hoping the pencil would puncture something vital. there was nothing else to use. anyway they made the other girls hold me down to secure me. By day, to a chair, and by night, to the bed. The girls were told they would be punished if I hurt myself.  I was given medication. They would loosen my bonds for me to eat and pee, and untie me so I could bathe, but otherwise, I was bound. I kept fighting them. I had to. I desperately needed sleep, and i just needed to be horizontal, but they told me I didn’t deserve it. It was only when I developed a rash from the cloth ropes, that I was moved to nurse care on their psychiatric floor. the rehab programme was separate from their psychiatric floor. so i finally got to rest. I was in that facility for 2 months… when I came out, I was so glad but I was so unnerved, and I begged and I pleaded and I finally got sent back home on a plane. And I went to the government hospital here (safer, trustworthy, but wait a long time to get an appointment) and the doctor said I’ve got bipolar disorder and started treating me. Here ends part 1. Yes, it’s so dire, I know. It’s like a movie. but it’s my real life. Part 2 will be more of coming to terms with being bipolar and that’s relatively free from drama.

[producersnafu]

Neglect Y0, I’m still bipolar af, not that there is a high demand for these microblogs, but ya boi snafu has been going through some ups and downs, mainly downs. I feel like today is different, I slept all day yesterday and through the morning, which is weird since usually when I sleep during the day I stay up all night, which I kinda did anyways . . . I usually crash around 9am. But being that I am fully rested, I decided to makes some covfefe and do some chores. my house looks like shit right now, usually I’m embarrassed to bring people over, being that my mom is a classified hoarder, but I have neglected it for about a couple weeks, I’m not proud of it, but I am the only one that does the cleaning in this house. This pretty common for people with bipolar and mainly depression, doing chores like cleaning, laundry and even hygiene is neglected . . . even though I try to keep ma booty fresh. Speaking of fresh, I can’t let my hygiene go to shit in this weather. Where I am from, the weather be going in the triple digits and I sometimes take up to 3 showers a day. I have neglected my laundry for about a week and a half and my clothes were getting salty and stiff upon wearing them so I finally got around to doing some laundry yesterday and decided to go to the store and treat myself to some ice cream. Ice cream is a got damn life saver, boy, let me tell you . . .some other time. so as you may have noticed, the theme of this microblog is neglect. I have not been neglecting my intake of meds, but I have been neglecting my pdoc. I don’t like my pdoc and I have only seen him once, it was enough for me to not want to go back and set up another appointment, in fact, I even went as far as to ask my clinic to assign me a different pdoc because I didn’t care for my current pdoc’s appointment. I have not seen my pdoc since febuary, I have instead been calling into my clinic and asking for a prescription refills. so since then I slept through my last pdoc appointment and ditched my last talk therapy session. I gotta call for a refill, I have anxiety about doing so. #bipolar #bipolaraf #💊