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deadmomjokes · 6 years

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(Normal? 1/2) I just went to a psychiatrist for the first time today. I got a recommendation from a therapist I used to see for a handful of appointments. I tried to be open minded, but I think they were bad at their job? They didn't tell me what the diagnosis was for sure (I could only assume depression/anxiety), and when I brought up concerns with general side effects, they brushed it off saying all things have side effects listed. They didn't even ask for all my symptoms?

(Normal? 2/2) I brought a whole notebook of information per recommendation of my past therapist, but then the psychiatrist never even asked about my family health history or triggers or coping mechanisms Ive tried. I don’t know, I felt like I was just treated like a body and had a set routine she was going through rather than actually hearing me. Am I just being overly anxious about this? Was this normal? Do they not need to know all my symptoms if I think I know what I got???

(Normal, Bonus) I don’t know, sorry for bothering you about this, I’m just super worried and don’t know anyone I can ask if this is normal for these kinds of appointments/treatments. Thank you so much for your time, even if you don’t answer. Have a lovely day

You’re definitely not bothering me at all! This stuff is hard enough to navigate without having a rotten experience like you did. And I do think your experience was terrible. You’re not just being overly anxious, you’re well within your right be frustrated and confused by your experience, and I would certainly find it anxiety provoking, myself!

A psychiatrist should absolutely be interested in both your symptoms and how they are affecting your day-to-day, as well as family history. As my husband explains it, a psychiatrist is primarily a doctor that also knows some psychology. If you went to a doctor experiencing a bunch of symptoms, and with a family history of certain conditions, and they just kind of brushed them aside and sent you straight to pills, it would be bad form. This is no different.

While it’s true that all medications have side effects, even stuff like ibuprofen, a doctor should never dismiss or handwave your concerns, particularly when it’s a psychiatric medication, where the side effects can be more serious and bothersome. She should have spent time talking to you, too, about what her thoughts were and WHY she was prescribing you a medicine in the first place. The fact that you walked out of there with pills and no clearly stated differential diagnosis is concerning to me. Not to say that the medication won’t help, but she should have taken time to talk to you about her thoughts and what the medicine is generally used for. It’s possible that she wasn’t able to make a definitive diagnosis after one appointment, or that she assumed your therapist had more or less diagnosed you already and she was going based on that, but she should have explained it a whole lot better.

It’s possible that if the therapist referred you, they could have sent over their case notes and that’s what the psychiatrist was going off of. She could have seen things like your symptoms and history in the notes, but since the therapist told you to bring a list to your appointment, and you said the therapist was a past therapist, I find that slightly less likely.

Depending on what the medicine is, I’d say it’s almost certain to be for anxiety/depression. Medicines like SSRIs and SNRIs, which are used for anxiety/depression/ptsd are generally considered safe, and so most doctors are comfortable writing prescriptions for those even after just one appointment. I know you’ve probably been doing a ton of research on it already, but since the psych didn’t take the time to talk to you about these meds, I’ll give you a quick (non-professional) rundown. (Handy graphic I did here!)

SSRI stands for Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor. Basically, when anxious/depressed, your brain doesn’t get enough of the serotonin it needs from what you’re producing naturally. Serotonin naturally gets reabsorbed after a certain amount of time anyway, meaning the places its supposed to go are short because the supply is low to begin with, and then your brain keeps sucking it back up before it can get where it needs to go in the quantities it needs to be in. The medicine stops much of the serotonin from being reabsorbed so more of it floats around free and ready for your brain to actually use. It won’t naturally increase the amount you make, but it does increase the amount that’s available, and sometimes having a good, steady, sufficient supply will allow your brain to get back to normal levels of production, because hey, everything’s working great now and we don’t have a nasty feedback loop! That’s why some people can go off their meds after a while and be fine; their brain has fixed the deficit enough to fix the production problem. (If you’re like me, your brain has something wrong with it where it has never produced enough and probably will never until they make a bunch of medical advancements.) SNRIs do the same thing but with both Serotonin and Norepinephrine (Serotonin-Norepinephrine Reuptake Inhibitors).

Generally speaking, the first try for anxiety and depression is an SSRI. If, however, you only have anxiety and not depression, or depression which stems from the constant anxiety, they may try an SNRI, which is specifically for anxiety and things like chronic pain. That’s not to say that SNRIs aren’t helpful for depression, because they are (that serotonin again), but it’s generally for a primary anxiety or pain concern. SNRIs can also sometimes be helpful for people with ADHD, but it’s generally not a first try or used alone.

Some common SSRIs that they start people on are Lexapro, Zoloft, Prozac, and Celexa. they have fewer side effects than most, or are most easily tolerated. Generally it’s things like temporary headache and fatigue (which can be reduced by taking the medicine at night). Common SNRIs are Cymbalta, Pristiq, and Effexor. They tend to have more side effects or more annoying side effects, like nausea, dizziness, and sweating.

Ultimately, only you can decide whether you’re comfortable enough with that doctor’s analysis of the situation in order to start the medication that she prescribed, but it is well within your rights both to go ahead and see, and to find a second opinion. Most insurance allows for a second opinion if you schedule the appointment as such, or you could contact your insurance to find out how they’d handle a second psych appointment with someone other than the first doctor.

Your therapist wouldn’t have agreed to refer you to a psychiatrist if they didn’t think medication might be in your best interest, so the question here may be whether you’re comfortable enough with the analysis of your problems to start this medicine. Unfortunately, side effects with psychiatric medication are relatively common, but not all of them last the whole time you’re taking it or are that serious. Sometimes they can also be predicted by your past health history; for instance, if you’ve ever experienced migraines, you’re more likely to get headaches as a side effect when starting or upping dose on a medication.

I’m sorry you’re in such a sticky and anxiety-provoking situation. That’s a lousy place to be in, especially when you’re already having a rough time. Feel free to ask any more questions you like, to vent, to ask my opinion on the specific medicine (I’ve been on a lot of them, because my brain is garbage and likes to build resistances), or to keep me updated on what you decide to do. Also, I apologize if I’ve misread the situation/your asks, or if my response was totally off the mark for what you were hoping. I’m gonna blame that on baby brain and also switching dosage of my own medicine. (I’m starting the Weird Zone today, so hopefully this response has been coherent cuz I’m not in any position to tell that for myself.)

#asks #anon #mental health #anxiety #medication

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docboots · 6 years

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(PotDA 11) The Professional Patient

It has been a year since my upper teeth were ripped out. While some of the updates to my life are good, there are plenty more issues that rise up. Specifically in how much I feel I need to do before and while I continue to try and get my teeth removed. Though, at this point, it is bringing myself to actually make the appointment. The machismo from the adrenaline has worn off, and I find myself terrified of another go. While the pain was not spread over a weak like the torment I am used to, the agony of the removal of my teeth sticks with me. While I can take comfort in it as inspiration for horror plots and ponderings that hopefully will become the horror stories to define my legacy one day, but the terror of another go holds me back. Like it did in writing this.

I suppose, at this point, you could clearly call my focus on the health care system a bit of an obsession. Though, I personally do not know how I should otherwise approach a situation as I have experienced. The years go by, and still, I have more to write and ramble about. Still, I have more that makes my mind throb with conflicting emotions of manic outrage and debilitating depression. All the while the buzz of anxiety add to the haze, while the ADHD warps me completely. Fuels the fire of the rest by being the name for a peculiarity in my mind I had since I was born, I’d imagine, as I was diagnosed with it at the age of 5. However, I’ll get to the bumblefuck that was my ADHD treatment (or lack thereof for the past decade) in the next ramble. This one is to bridge the gap I mentioned in the last one.

As a brief recap, on March 23, 2018, I went in to have all of my teeth removed. This was required as a lifetime of one of my disease’s flare-ups mixed with a decade (around 16-20 to a week ago. More on that later.) of the issues of suddenly taken off medicine for your ADHD and forced to stay off it no matter how many damn doctors/shrinks/pill-shrinks you see explaining your symptoms causing the stress to increase and the flare-ups to become more frequent. The constant vomiting exacerbated an issue a sugary diet may have caused and utterly demolished my teeth little by little. However, thanks to complications from how infected these teeth had become (having been unable to do anything due to co-pay costs, then not having insurance, then Medicaid being a headache to find anyone to be able to get it fixed) which lead to a few hours of pulling, waiting, pulling, blah blah… I was referred to an oral surgeon.

Which is where the Health Insurance Shenanigans begins. I am quite familiar with these shenanigans, as they have been happening since I started. You see, the many different Nevada Medicaid healthcare providers who have insured me will have a list of the different doctors that will take your insurance. It sometimes might even claim to be able to tell you if they accept patients. This would be highly convenient if it did as it said. Instead, whenever I wanted to find a doctor, I would have to go down the list and call them one at a time. The moment Medicaid is mentioned, their tone sours ever so slightly. They tell you that, regardless of what the list on my provider’s own list says, they do not take Medicaid. The other constant was that if they DID, they were full on patients. If the did and they had openings, it is months down the line. When you need to find multiple specialists to deal with multiple issues caused by the same illness, this gets highly agitating. Frustrating as the ones I believed I could complain to like to assure me they understand it as. Why I do not believe them is they also seem surprised at how FUCKING PISSED OFF fucking up my health makes me.

Remember these shenanigans, I will be bringing them up often.

On March 6th, 2018 I received a letter from the allergist, who had been (poorly) helping me with my HAE care, that my care with them has suddenly been terminated. Now, I had only a few months prior FINALLY received from this doctor a pair of highly useful medications. In between the belittling, lecturing, and talking down to I got more than treatment, I finally was prescribed HAEGARDA and FIRAZYR. The first being a medication I WAS taking twice a week. It was rather painful for 15 minutes upon injection, but that cleared up quickly. The other was to be used in the event of swelling, injected like an Epipen (WHICH IT GOD DAMN ISN’T) might be at the moment of attack. With these two medicines, I had been comfortable enough to make my appointment with the dentist in the first place, which after a few appointments before I received the letter had been set for March 23rd.

Suddenly I received that letter, which was soon followed by the provider of the two medicines telling me my YEAR LONG PRESCRIPTIONS with them had suddenly been pulled. Something they were confused about, MUCH LIKE IS WAS. Upon calling my allergist’s office, I learned that the reason had been APPARENTLY I wasn’t taking it. Which is confusing, as I had been, and had only missed the one appointment before the letter thanks to the INFECTION IN MY GUMS I NEEDED REMOVED along with all the other damn issues I was having and trying to mix making me have troubles sleeping and making an early morning appointment. Something that I apparently need to suck up.

This reasoning SHOULD have been easily refuted by the constant deliveries of the medicine TO MY DOOR. The nurse that had come and taught me to use these medicines, THEIR APPROVAL THAT I KNEW WHAT I WAS DOING. As well me having sharps container with plenty of the injection needles I used. They did not wish for any of this, and after angry demands given I HAD A SURGERY APPOINTMENT for my teeth which has a DAMN HISTORY of causing swelling of the throat. So they extended it for 30 days, a bridge period, after constant calls that now just sit in my head like an angry flurry. Mixing them up, but the point is I had to FIGHT to make sure I had enough of the medicine for my blood disease so I could go through the dental procedure with the lost chance of a POSSIBLY FATAL flare-up. Fun.

So, once I was healed up after the dental appointment so I could start calling and get the bottoms removed… The Healthcare Shuffle appeared! This is when I tried to call the Oral Surgeon I was referred to, they said they never received it. I call the Dentist who sent it and they said they sent it to my insurance. I call my insurance and they first said they haven’t received it. Later say they do and sent it but the Oral Surgeon never got it. WHILE all this was happening, a far more problematic issue arose. Keep in mind, this is all happening as I am still getting over the fact I now have these annoying dentures that I am STILL angry over.

The medicine ran out. So, of course, I had to find someone new to prescribe me it. This had the issue of me needing to FIND someone who would do this. The Primary Care Physician that I had was uncertain himself and kept telling me he knew nothing about the disease. After explaining, he referred me to a Hematologist and Allergist… IN VEGAS. (This is 8 hours away from me on a good day or requires an hour and a half plane trip for something I likely need to do multiple times. I live in a city, not a small town. That has MANY ALLERGISTS AND HEMATOLOGISTS.)

Annoyed by this, and after Medicaid Shenanigans, I eventually got an Allergist and a Hematologist referral. Upon calling the Hematologist, they refused! I was highly confused, as they kept repeating that I should go to an allergist. They don’t treat allergies. Hereditary Angioedema is a blood disease. NOT an allergy. Apparently, nothing can be done and I have still yet to see a hematologist. Joy. The reason? Even though I explained extensively this was a genetic blood disease and the symptoms only could be COMPARED to an allergy to stress. IT DOES NOT REACT TO ALLERGY MEDS. An epipen makes the area I inject just swell up yet give me the energy for my skeleton to feel like it wants to run around the block without the rest of me.

So, not surprising, this caused a lot of issues with swelling. Inevitably, I had an episode involving my gastrointestinal system. This time, it was bad enough I couldn’t seem to use medical marijuana to cover the symptoms until I was well and had water in me. So one Ambulance ride later I am in a hospital bed… Oh, wait, no, I am at the front desk of the emergency room waiting for a bed for a bit. Until I puke enough to be a disturbance. However it still takes quite a while before I get the main thing I want and have been kept from thanks to my body violently puking it up. I wanted an IV with something to hydrate me. The drugs could wait untiul the doctor, but as time went by and it felt like an eternity, I kept being told by all the people checking on me that I had to wait for a doctor to get my damn liquid.

All the while my fiance and my father are both helping explain that this was, without any doubt, an attack from my blood disease. It was an hereditary angioedema attack, blah blah… My discharge papers (useful in tracking my disorder and proving problems.) instead say it is some ‘unspecified vomiting type’ instead of maybe ‘blood disease triggered vomiting’ or ��HAE triggered vomiting’, ‘genetic disorder triggered vomiting’. Think you get the point, more something that proved the medical staff were actually listening to my concerns. Attempts to fix this so I had proof with disability was met with them saying once that is written down it is permanent.

Then, five months later, it happened again.

Luckily, the Allergist I eventually found turned out to actually have heard and seen a couple others who had this disorder. He knew of medicines and, instead of feeling like I needed to teach my doctors… I was given hope! I was given a vial of Firazyr. He said it was extending an olive branch, and I feel this will be what I remember when I try to think of the emotions needed to write a scene similar. I have never felt hope like I have then. Hope that likes to come and go, but at least I have one doctor at-bat for me.

Until a couple of months ago as of March 20th, 2019, I FINALLY was put on a new medication. Tahkzyro which I take twice a month. HOWEVER, I am still getting push back when it comes to getting the Firazyr, which would help me with my anxiety over the next surgery to remove my bottoms. Which, now that I have Tahkzyro, I once more have to take on HealthCare shenanigans to try and figure out who gets the god damned honor of removing my teeth. As the ones I was referred to HAVE the damn referral… But they don’t take Medicaid. SEEMS THE INFECTION IN MY BOTTOM TEETH GETS TO STAY! Just get to keep draining that thing myself. GUESS WE ARE FRIENDS FOREVER, ME AND THIS INFECTED TOOTH! Though it is crumbling away like the rest. It is down to the gums now. Though, I would like the Firazyr so I can inject myself IMMEDIATELY upon noticing my throat swelling. Never been asphyxiated but something tells me it ISN’T ALL THE FUN AN END! Especially at twenty fucking eight. So you can see my troubles. That doctor is still great, and makes a good point, I just think I need to make myself a bit clearer.

The years feel like they become less and less about me finding my place in this world, healing, and learning but instead more and more about me working as quality control for a broken system with no desire to fix itself. With every passing event involving them, I feel less like a patient and more like the data point I clearly am. With articles full of professionals professionally talking about diseases and medicines without much mention or care for the patients. The ones who that was made for.

For patients like me to heal. Not for people to make money. That is a side-effect of the job they signed up for. To fucking CARE for your goddamn patients. Not be coerced into giving meds left and right (or taking them away as a debate on whether or not ADHD FUCKING EXISTS goes on) or whether you believe the name given to the collection of symptoms I show. My disorders are not Cryptids. I have blood tests, medical papers, and diagnoses. Not blurry pictures of my blood viewed through a slide where fragments of the disease are seen peeking over their shoulder as they rush into a forest of red blood cells.

My particular disorders that I had since birth (ADHD and HAE) were caused by my body’s INABILITY to produce something. So if someone who CAN produce it takes it (least in the sense of ADHD as I doubt anyone else will benefit from a c1-inhibitor. No more than insulin if they aren’t in need of it like a diabetic) then of COURSE something different will happen. Of course, they might get high. That is not my fault as the patient it was made for.

As the point I am trying to make is that I do not feel I have been treated as a patient, I feel I am given more paperwork and calls than a cubicle worker. I feel I have to study more about the laws and practices to keep myself from being further burned. In between the Madness. The Pain. The Suffering that ALL OF THIS has inflicted on me. In between the new disorders this has caused me, particularly my obsession.

All I can think of is how to fix this. How I keep seeing articles, posts, and websites full of cries for help at a broken system. Of people fucked over, lacking their medicine, and the only ones getting the fucking attention are the dipshits who thought that taking someone else’s necessity would be a good way to get high. A good way to ‘focus’. To ‘relax’. While you use that as a fucking excuse to let people like me suffer, and further excuse it by brushing us into a group of people who just ‘slipped through the cracks’.

This obsession has grown now. Especially from the subject of the next article, ADHD meds from the perspective of someone who was one them from the age of 5, had them taken somewhere between the ages of 16 and 20 (my memory is incredibly hazy in this period thanks to the damn medicine being taken away) and getting only mild relief from marijuana replenishing my Dopamine… But that isn’t all Marijuana does nor all ADHD needs. I FINALLY am being treated, though it is just beginning. Still need to find MY medicine. It only took a decade for them to admit they were screwing with me. The lengths of my rage, again, is the subject of the next article.

This one was about how this madness turned me into someone who believes his job is to be a Professional Patient. Being talked into long commutes, long waits waiting for a doctor who will drop you for being late when they are constantly 45 to an hour late. Constantly filling out paperwork and debating about the fact my problems EXIST. Being treated as too young to be suffering. To the point, I don’t know what else to do. When you are too fucked up to work, explained in an earlier article, too fucked around for college, and the only thing you can apparently do is smash your rage against a keyboard and hope spreading your story around for no one to read will get something done.

If not? Then no matter what happens. If I die from malpractice or my disease, if I am killed, if I am silenced. My words on how this bullshit has made me feel will be, hopefully, somewhere.

The internet is notorious for being difficult to clean thoroughly, after all. If you do a little light digital legwork with the intention of being annoying as all hell. Especially since I got denied for disability again. Next time, I have to go to federal court apparently. JOLLY GEE GOODIE.

#nonfiction #Medicaid #Hereditary Angioedema #genetics and heredity #disability #us healthcare #us health insurance #reno #renown #suffering #blood disease #disease #rant #medical malpractice

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understandingchaoss · 7 years

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Surviving Mental Illness in Adulthood

Approximately 1 in 5 youth aged 13-18 (21.4%) experiences a severe mental disorder at some point during their adolescence.

I can’t really say I grew up with mental illness from an early age. I don’t recall things starting to feel abnormal until I was about 12 or 13 years of age. However, I do know that I have always had problems sleeping. So maybe insomnia was always present. I used to have this tremendous fear of fire. I thought that just about anything and everything would cause a fire. I feared that we would lose our house, and that I was the only one that would make it out alive. So when it came time to fall asleep, not only could I just not fall asleep because my brain didn’t allow it, but I couldn’t relax because I thought something was going to catch fire. If and when I did actually fall asleep at night, staying asleep didn’t exist. I don’t know where the fear started from, and I don’t remember at what age it began. But I can at least say that the only time I can ever recall sleeping soundly - whether that be falling asleep right away or staying asleep - was when I was about 15 or 16 and began taking an anti-psychotic medication that knocked me out cold.

I didn’t grow up with bipolar disorder or paranoid schizophrenia; I actually don’t have either to this day. But many children, who develop a mental illness very early on in life, typically show signs of one or the other. It’s common, and most people don’t shame the child or their family for it. My childhood was happy. I felt perfectly fine and normal until I was in the seventh grade.

I remember telling my mom that something didn’t feel right when she asked if everything was okay. I was a kid. I had no idea that my neurotransmitters were no longer firing properly and that my hormones and chemicals were way off balance.

Heck, I didn’t even know what a neurotransmitter was and I had no idea my brain even produced chemicals and hormones. I just knew something inside of my head didn’t feel right. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t embarrassed to go to the doctor and begin my journey on medications. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t embarrassed about having to sit down with the school counselor twice a week and my psychotherapist once a week. But I was embarrassed mostly because it was all a new thing, and it wasn’t what the “cool kids” were doing. Honestly, it seemed like everywhere I went and everyone I met, didn’t really seem to care or mind, or even have anything to say about any of it. ADD and ADHD are extremely common among adolescents. Children with either developmental disability almost always see a psychiatrist and take medications. Everyone knows that, and the stigma surrounding it isn’t too bad. It’s just the same surrounding kids who have depression or any other common mental illness. Except most children outgrow both ADD and ADHD once they reach adulthood, and eventually no longer have to see a psychiatrist and take those medications. This, my friends, is where the problem starts.

I, as a child, was expected to grow out of my mental illnesses once I reached adulthood just like almost any other child would do with their developmental disabilities. I felt immense pressure to do well and be better and become normal again once I rounded the bend in my high school career and hit my final year before becoming an adult. Why? Because as an adolescent, my mental illnesses weren’t even viewed as mental illnesses; they were viewed as developmental disabilities that I would eventually grow out of.

Here I was becoming an adult, moving out, paying my bills, and taking care of myself and my own responsibilities. Everyone had high hopes for me. Everyone expected things to suddenly be sunshine and rainbows once I hit 18, because only children have mental illness since it’s only a developmental issue and not a possible lifelong thing, right? Here I was doing all of the things everyone expected out of me, except I had to sit down and shut up about my mental illnesses because I felt as though I wasn’t even allowed to have them any longer.

I still, to this day, see my child psychiatrist. I still, to this day, am on medications. I still, to this day, am in counseling. I still, to this day, deal with the same mental illnesses, as well several others that developed in my adulthood. I am ashamed that I still, to this day, can admit that I see the same guy that society deems as an under-educated “doctor” who only uses his title to make money off of me. I am ashamed that I still, to this day, can admit that I take several of those little pills on a daily basis that society deems as some compacted mixture of crap that the pharmaceutical industry has designed only to say they will fix people like me, but they won’t. I am ashamed that I still, to this day, can admit that I sit down with a woman, on a weekly basis, that society deems as unfit to guide me and help me because she too is only there to make money off of me with the promise that she can fix me. I am ashamed that I still, to this day, can admit that not only do I still deal with the same mental illnesses I was diagnosed with all those years ago, but I also deal with several that developed after I turned 18.

The only reason I am ashamed to admit those things, is because society has made me feel as if my mental illnesses have been invalid since the day I became an adult. My life didn’t turn out the way everyone expected. I was extremely driven, motivated, and energetic about life and all it had to offer. But I didn’t go off to college like everyone wanted, and I’m not motivated like I used to be. I still struggle with daily life. I’m still doing all of the things I used to do - that I apparently should have stopped doing the day I turned 18 - that I now need to continue doing in order to heal and recover. It’s almost like I let everyone down by not being able to flip a switch in my brain and snap out of what they thought was just a “phase.”

But let me set something straight.

My psychiatrist, at any given moment after I turned 18, could have sent me on my way. He specializes in psychiatry for adolescents, something that I no longer am. But he chose to continue treating me and continue educating me, not because he views me and my illnesses as a bag of money, but because he is the most patient, compassionate, understanding, and sympathetic psychiatrist I have yet to come across. He wants to help me and he wants to see me better. I am the one who makes the decision to continue seeing him and to continue filling my prescriptions. He, in no way, makes me feel like I have to do those things. My medications are my choice and the pharmaceutical industry does not have me brain washed. Trust me when I say that none of you want to see me or interact with me when I am not on medication, because for me, medications actually work. Brace yourselves for this one; my therapist, the person that everyone seems to view as some lady that has no idea what she’s talking about and ruins people’s lives in return for money? I don’t pay her. And no, my insurance doesn’t pay her either. Shocker, isn’t it? This woman is someone who has known me since I was in my mother’s womb. She has been a part of my life since the day she looked down at my face some 22 years ago. This woman, out of the kindness and compassion of her own heart, counsels through the church and counsels me just because. She’s not there for my money. She, like my psychiatrist, wants to see me better and wants to help me get there.

But now, if I was a child, still under the age of 18, I wouldn’t have to explain those things. I wouldn’t have to sit here and explain all of that to society, because as a child, all of those things are normal to do. It was normal for me to see those people, and it was normal for me to be on medication. I have a hard time trying to understand why it’s so different now that I am an adult. If anything, adulthood is the problem.

Adulthood is exhausting. Or maybe it’s only exhausting because of my mental illnesses. I don’t know, and I may never know. All I know is that everyone has always told me adulthood is exhausting and stressful. They were right. Except adulthood has also been the best years of my life so far. As exhausting and stressful as it is, I have enjoyed being able to take care of myself and take myself on trips around the world and treat myself. In the midst of it all, I still have to deal with the ever-lingering mental illnesses. I can’t ignore them just because society thinks they should have gone away years ago. But if I’m being told that adulthood is stressful and exhausting, and I in return come back at them with the fact that my mental illnesses are still present, and the newly developed illnesses are a partial result of adulthood, I am judged, scolded, misunderstood, and stigmatized. I am allowed to be an adult and be exhausted and stressed, but I’m not allowed to have mental illness as a partial result of those things? Quite frankly, I don’t understand it one bit, and I actually want to incoherently scream for a few minutes because of it.

I have to wake up every single day, slap that smile on my face that so many people say lights up a room, make myself look presentable, and go about my day as if nothing is wrong even though all of my chemicals and hormones are off balanced, and my neurotransmitters don’t fire properly; but I am now an adult, and adults aren’t supposed to have mental illness. By the end of every single day, I am exhausted from having to pretend that my brain suddenly transitioned properly into adulthood just as my body and maturity did, all because society and stigma say that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Having mental illness as a child was simple; it was actually quite easy. Get up every day, take your meds, head to school, basically ignore how you felt because you didn’t know how to identify any of it; walk out of class early one day a month because it was time to go see the psychiatrist about those meds you took that morning. Sit and talk with him and mom for a solid hour, then head home. Can’t forget about those weekly sessions with the psychotherapist, and maybe the occasional questions to answer that the people around you would ask. You answer, and go about your day, because no one thought anything of it. No one thought anything of any of it because you were a child and that made mental illness normal.

I didn’t feel out of place back then, because no one shamed me for it. But I sure as heck do now, and people sure as heck shame me for it now.

I don’t like being an adult with mental illness. I don’t like knowing there is such a large stigma behind it all. I don’t like having to deal with the nasty remarks or the disrespectful comments. I don’t like dealing with the judgement or assumptions. I don’t like any of it.

I am an adult that unfortunately, never “grew out of” her mental illness. But I am also an adult that has still made something of herself despite having mental illness. I am an adult that is fighting with her life and every ounce of her strength to win this war. I am an adult that hopes to one day live a life without mental illness, with the normality I used to feel as a child before it all started. I am not supposed to feel ashamed to have mental illness as an adult.

If you or someone you know needs support right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, or text START to 741-741

#understandingchaos

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ofhxrror · 8 years

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OFHXRROR’S RP GUIDE: HOW TO PLAY A CHARACTER WITH EPILEPSY.

While I have nothing against the other rp guide’s who tell you what epilepsy and some of them explain it great, they feel like that’s all they are doing explaining it. So here is an rp guide coming from someone who has GE for those who want to play a character with it. ( below will have what GE is, what it can feel like, how it can effect the people around you, how to roleplay a grand mal / tonic - colonic seizure, and the long term + short term effects of a seizure. )

UPDATED: 06/16/2020

What is GE ( Generalized Epilepsy )

GE is a type of epilepsy that comes with no primary cause and comes from the whole brain rather than it stemming from one part of the brain, it also mostly happens durning childhood ( but can happen in adulthood just when that happens their’s less of a chance that you will grow out of it ). There is two possible outcomes with this type of epilepsy, Option One the patient stays on medication for two years and at the end is able to be taken off those meds without any trouble thus for some reason is now cured of GE; Option Two however is more common and likely they stay two years on medication but still have trouble thus aren’t cured of GE.

Symptoms of GE ( what it can feel like )

This is my personally experience with GE but before I was on medication this is what it normally felt like to me which scary enough often felt close enough to an aura ( aka a warning sign to a seizure ); - Numbness / Out Of Body Moments - Tasting Copper / Blood - Random Dizziness / Lightheadedness - Getting Nauseous - Sleepiness - Headaches - Anxiety / Worsen Anxiety - Depression / Worsen Depression - Myoclonic Jerking: which fun fact is another minor form of seizing, I developed this over a very short period of time and it comes even though I am medicated.

How GE might effect your Muse

GE is one of those things that can effect people in so many different ways that it’s hard to guess which ways you muse might be effected so here are so suggestions; - your muse might just hole up in a comfy place out of fear of having a seizure at an unknown point ( me for like a month after my first one ) / place or they might keep living their life giving GE a big fuck you and just shrugging it off ? - if your muse already has anxiety and / or depression think would they get worse for having this in their life? - your muse might draw away from people due to just panic and stress or would your muse lean on the ones that they have more? - if they have anger problems they might get worse because they might feel like the world if screwing with them? - if they are super prepared they might wear a medical alert bracelet or carry a card with them at all times that says they have GE now. I didn’t leave my room for a month unless it was to shower, I did all my school work at home, and my depression shot through the roof after my first seizure. But then after awhile I missed people so I got out again and it was scary at first so I clung to those I could trust like a baby monkey. Now I’m not scared at all of having an attack because I trust the people around me which leads me too...

How GE might effect the people around your Muse.

Okay this will hit people hard or soft from what I’ve seen there is no two ways about it folks, if they have seen your muse have a seizure it’s going to hard and if they haven’t seen your muse have a seizure it’s going to be soft. Right after my first seizure my mom didn’t leave my side and then when I had a seizure around a guy I was seeing he didn’t let go of my hand. But when I tell people I have GE it’s “okay so you wanna get pizza later.” but sometimes it’s “okay so if you have a seizure what do you want me to do.” So it just makes a difference on what type of personality your muse’s people have, plot it out, ask your the other muse’s owner “does this work?” and if not keep plotting till you find something that works.

How to roleplay a Grand Mal Seizure.

You’re muse is overworked, or is lacking sleep, or is just unlucky whatever the case you want to roleplay a seizure. Well here the info you will need labeled from start to finish from a good amount of research and memory: START; your muse might get something called an aura which could be a number of things, for me it was always the taste of blood like loads and loads it followed my right hand jerking out of my control ( a myoclonic seizure ). For your muse it could be anything ranging from numbness, to a headache, to nausea. These can last anywhere to ten mintues to an hour and half but they don’t last much longer than that because next is... MIDDLE; if your muse is really unlucky they might just skip right to this part which is when the seizure happens, which durning a bunch of things can happen. Now these have two phases which are known as the tonic phase and the colonic phase which is the reason for the name. During the tonic phase your muse will lose consciousness ( though sometimes people don’t and are awake which isn’t rare but is really uncommon ) and they start to tense up, often making loud moaning sounds as air is being force out of their lungs. If your muse is standing or sitting they will fall down due to the fact that their skeletal muscles are tensing up, this phase is the shortest. In the colonic phase your muse will start to convulse, which can be as light or as violent as the seizure goes on. The eyes will roll up into head and often if your muse is not not biting down on something the tongue / lips will get bitten ( sometimes to the point where it might get bitten off, meaning do not have or let anyone put their muses hands in your’s mouth because they will lose them ), the lips may turn blue. finally it’s over but now comes the .... END; when your muse wakes up they might not know where they are or who they are but they will get it all back shortly, it helps to have someone remind them. vomiting and crying are also side effects due to the large emotional stress it does apply to the brain / body ( I experianced vomiting, crying, panic and huge amounts of tiredness due to the seizure, it took the nursing staff telling me what happened for me to be okay. )

Long Term + Short Term effects of seizures.

Even one seizure can effect your brain so your muse will have both Short Term and Long Term effects to struggle with, I know this fact very well. The shorter effects of the seizures can be:

- Amnesia / Confusion - Suttering - Crying / Violent Sobbing - Vomiting - Low Emotional Thresh Hold - Short Term Memory Loss - Shaking - Cuts / Broken Bones / Bruises - Sore Muscles - Intense Sleepiness

Long Term effects can be:

- Suttering - Trouble With Memory - Worsened ADD / ADHD - Twitching / Jerking / Shaking Hand Motions also know as myoclonic seizures. - Confusion - Sleepiness - Lack Of Appetite - Weight Loss - Coma’s / Death / Brain Bleeds

Why do you want to roleplay this?

Finally I have to ask this question as someone who lives their life with this curse, it’s truly a hellscape some days and honestly it’s no fun waking up some mornings with your head spinning and arm smacking you in the face. My body does not feel like mine, it’s possessed by some creature that I cannot get rid of because modern medicine doesn’t have a fix yet. Please think about that when you add this to your character, I just want you to know all the points of epilepsy that while yes most people with the disease can live normal healthy lives, it’s not fun and it sucks. I’m not trying to be an asshole I just wanted to underline how serious it really is and make sure you aren’t just sticking your chara with this illness for brownie points.

thank you for coming to my ted talk!

#rp help #rp guide #rpc #seizures tw #epilepsy tw #medication tw #( mine. )#( rp resource. )

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anundefinedwoman · 6 years

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Chasing Guilt Away

Guilt - n. 1. the fact of having committed a specified or implied offense or crime. "it is the duty of the prosecution to prove the prisoner's guilt"

synonyms: culpability, guiltiness, blameworthiness, wrongdoing, wrong, wrongfulness, criminality, unlawfulness, misconduct, sin, sinfulness

2. a feeling of having done wrong or failing in an obligation. "he remembered with sudden guilt the letter from his other that he had not read" synonyms: self-reproach, self-accusation, self-condemnation, feelings of guilt, guiltiness, a guilty conscience, a bad conscience, pangs of conscience, remorse, regret, contrition, repentance, shame, disgrace, dishonor "eat your food and enjoy it without guilt"

I'm not sure what it says that I'm moving from love to guilt in my free association writing. They are stark contrasts of one another. In love, I didn't know it. It seemed out of reach. Or maybe it seemed skewed. I still remember the first part of a poem I wrote when I was 15/16:

What is love? How does it feel? Is it good? Is it real?

Where do you get it? How much does it cost? I need some desperately- Before I get lost.

But guilt was never something I was ever lacking. I'm not sure if that's taught or just innate. I find myself at this point 2 hours before my appointment with my therapist and I should be a lot further than I am now. I am not a procrastinator by nature. In fact, procrastinators annoy me. I live in a house full of them. I haven't had any awareness that I am consciously trying to avoid doing this. It just seems to happen that way. I have nothing to show this week and I even missed last week because my oldest son was sick. Then I had days I didn't feel well. Then my ancestry/DNA kit came back that I had been waiting 8-10 weeks for. Excuses, you know?

I feel guilty for this, yes. I probably should feel guiltier, but I don't.

Guilt is a funny thing. It's a form of manipulation or gaslighting our "loved" ones or friends put upon us when we are helpless. That seed of doubt. The mistrust of yourself; making you feel selfish, ungrateful, or foolish for wanting something extra just as an example.

And then you know what happens? The treatment done by others, becomes a learned response that you begin doing to yourself. I was told how ungrateful I was being during my childhood, I should basically just shut up, take the neglect, emotional and physical abuse and even be happy that I had the roof over my head and got new school clothes.

Those of us brought up in environments like this are conditioned to be co-dependents.

The way I see it, we can either push everyone away and hold them at arms distance because our lack of trust in others (another byproduct of our environment) or fix the broken we see in everyone else. Maybe it's easier than addressing what needs to be fixed in ourselves.

It's interesting, isn't it? I feel I am getting off my topic of guilt, but I am just going to go with my train of thought here. See where this leads me. Perhaps I can tie it back to guilt. After all, I have always said there have been two thing my life has always been ruled by. But always first by someone else. Guilt being one.

But I wonder... Are you co-dependent? Have you ever struggled with it? Perhaps you are a "recovering" co-dependent. that term makes me chuckle a little. Perhaps you have or feel you have a hybrid form of co-dependency, (because we are weird and sometimes it's just hard to define us & feel like we are understood).

I did not grow up around addiction per se. I grew up around self righteousness, selfish, angry assholes who neglected their responsibilities of parenthood onto others. I grew up around extreme dysfunction where I was controlled into submission and even jealousy by an imaginary granddaughter name "Debbie H****" who was as mysterious, good and as invisible as Santa Claus. They used her to manipulate the little child in me. Soon other family members would tease me about her. They talked about her as if she were real. I remember when I moved to England as a preteen, my grandfather wrote me once (and it was so special getting a letter from him) where he spoke about her in the letter. Sometimes I feel like there is this access of evil that runs through my family with all that has occurred to me, my mother and my aunt. But the part of me that loves my grandparents ferociously wants to defend that they had no idea what they were doing; the damage this could have caused. Could it?

I lay in bed at night sometimes and I think about perhaps something I said, or didn't say, or how a situation was handled and I persevere on the subject and how it may impact my children especially. But I do this with everyone. This is where guilt gets me. I just want to make people happy. Even if it means I'm not.

The last few years I have gotten much better with this, but this has been my downfall. I put others needs before my own. Their worth, their needs take priority over mine. Another learned behavior. I've always had to. Growing up my voice never counted. My feeling never counted. I guess I learned to push it down. There were times when I would show emotion and was told I wasn't allowed to cry or feel sad or angry about something. But I AM an emotional person. I honestly don't know how I survived my childhood and teen years being so neglected and emotionally and physically abused. I begin to detach and I ponder upon this. I fiddle with my lip. I stare off at the area rug in front of me in the distance and it becomes a blur and soft sounds of Pandora radio with cars passing by with loud sounds of birds chirping become my focus, but I am not there. I have awareness. I can come back. I have control. It scares me some and I realize this is where I probably should stop and look over the link my therapist gave me last week on what to do on staying in this present and not detaching - I want to push through, however.

It's like those moments when you are trying to concentrate, i.e. write because maybe you have a deadline and maybe you have ADHD, which I do. (could be an effect of this, but I did take my meds today... huge squirrel moment!!) As I was saying, perhaps you have ADHD, or are distracted or you are just a deep thinker and you suddenly stop mid-sentence, stare off into space and think about something - deeply, almost trancelike. You might be 'lost' for a few moments. Perhaps it may take someone snapping their fingers or tapping you on the shoulder and saying, "Ground Control to Major Tom" (if your name was Major Tom). Talk about HUGE squirrel moment. I am not sure why I felt the need to go off on a tangent describing all of this in such great lengths when my focus should be on guilt.

I saw something the other day on Facebook in the form of a quote meme that bothered me a little. I know a lot of people will agree with it. It said:

"You're responsible for how long you let what hurt you, haunt you."

Obviously the person who wrote this has never faced complex trauma. They obviously don't understand it. We didn't ask for any of this. None of this has been our choice. If we are in therapy seeking help, that is our choice. But do you know how many times I have been in therapy? I had reached a point where I felt that my only alternatives were a life of unhappiness which I couldn't bear to live, or death. I felt beyond broken. And I have only to this point talked about small pieces of my childhood which is already so fragmented because of my memory or a self preservation mechanism. Because I have tried therapy so many times in the past and cannot get passed my past, it is hard not to feel hopeless and dejected. I don't want to play the victim card, because all of us who have been through what we have are survivors, not victims. Seeing the above quote written by some person with no understanding only makes those who have tried and tried again and again feel guilty, like it is their fault.

I recognize a pattern within myself. I have created this illustration to describe the pattern.

With guilt comes obligation, doesn't it? To fulfill promises you made to others, even if you don't want to go along anymore. Vagueness suits me here. It could be anything. You choose.

Moms especially (or any parent) know a thing or two about guilt. We have to juggle so much. We willingly and gladly put their needs before our own. But when they start growing up and it's time to start with self-care, going out, an occasional splurge on self, talk about guilt!!! I have such buyers remorse when I have spent anything on myself. Guilt and worth go hand in hand for me. I returned my birthday present this year. I actually return many of my gifts. I feel guilty for accepting them. Like I am unworthy of them. Especially if someone is giving it to me. If I go out and buy myself a new pair of earrings or shirt, it’s less guilt inducing for me. Weird, huh? I might have to put some thought into that.

Like I have discussed with my therapist, what I know intellectually and in my heart, or viscerally, are two separate matters. I have enough insight or common sense to know I shouldn't feel guilt over X, yet deep down no matter what I know or tell myself, I still feel guilty, or unworthy. Is this a case of "the heart feels what the heart feels?" Or is this conditioning mixed in with good insight or mixed in with results of therapy that knows it on a level that I believe but I just can't stop feeling? Where does that line get drawn? The line between belief and feeling?

I think I am babbling now and I am going nowhere productive with my thoughts. I feel there is so much left unsaid. In fact I know there is. My thoughts feel muddled. It's as if when I'm sitting here in my chair writing, I can almost picture an Indy 500 race car shooting out from my brain like some kind of Peter Gabriel video going in dozen of different directions almost simultaneously with contrails following them. Maybe some things are better left unsaid, huh?

For now guilt shall march on...

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misometric-blog · 8 years

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My ADHD brain - The beginning

I have fairly pronounced ADHD. I finally sought a diagnosis after my recklessness contributed to the breakdown of a long term relationship several years ago. She thought I was going to end up getting myself killed. In hindsight, she was probably right. Riding my bike wasted, was a final straw. At the time, I thought nothing of it. It's hard to explain the thought process, but ADHD can make high-risk situations feel like the only thing you can tolerate. There can even be a slight physical sensation in your body. It's uncomfortable and only eases when being loud, reckless, or expending large amounts of energy. Luckily I have grown out of these symptoms, but experienced them a lot in my teens. The level of anger and frustration it bought was intense. After experiencing side effects like these, I do get particularly pissed when people dismiss ADHD as a fake disorder.

ADHD is a legitimate neurophysiological condition. Something I read recently highlighted the importance of sleep, by warning that at the second day of no sleep, ADHD-like symptoms begin. This they said, was due to a decline in executive brain function. So I suppose if you ever want to know what it’s like to have ADHD, just go two days without sleep and you may start to understand it. The constant fuzzy brain.

Because ADHD is a neurological disorder, it sits within the same category as autism, dementia, epilepsy, learning disorders etc. Advising someone with ADHD that they just need to concentrate more, is like telling someone with epilepsy that they need to have less seizures. It does nothing. It’s completely unhelpful and shows a complete misunderstanding of the issue the person lives with.

ADHD is also not in the same category as illnesses such as depression, anxiety, mood and personality disorders. Talk therapy is a big focus in the treatment of these disorders, due to the role cognition can play in the disorder. This type of therapy can lead to progress in the treatment of illnesses such as these. However, ADHD is a neurological issue more than a psychological issue in the traditional sense. With these sorts of issues, the amount of control one has over symptoms, is usually minimal compared to the control one can learn to have over their cognition and in turn their symptoms, with illnesses such as depression. Behavior therapies such as CBT can be somewhat useful in ADHD to help develop strategies to minimise the impact of symptoms, however, they will rarely alleviate them. In fact, the psychologist treating me back when I was first diagnosed, stopped behavour based therapy the moment my ADHD diagnosis was confirmed by my psychiatrist. The fact is, this therapy sees minimal results. Medication is still the best chance someone with ADHD has at alleviating symptoms.

The process of getting a diagnosis is not an easy one. Thorough assessment and testing is required for diagnosis as an adult. On top of that, only a psychiatrist registered as specialising in ADHD can perform these tests and give the diagnosis. These stressful neurological tests leave you exhausted and depending on the results, gutted. Despite having an above average IQ, I struggled a lot with the testing. Although I scored 'highly superior' in a few functions, falling into the top 1 percentile in two, there were just far too many "Katie is highly impaired in this area" sentence starts, for me to feel happy about anything positive mentioned in the report. I don't cry often, but I cried when I read that report. When you grow up as a "smart kid" and pride yourself on your thinking and learning, reading that you are "highly impaired' undermines the very things you’ve built your confidence on. However, at least my results were conclusive I suppose and it was then a matter of starting treatment.

I began stimulant medication not long after. Unlike antidepressants which take time to build up in your system, the chemistry behind ADHD and its meds, means that as long as the medication is right for me, an improvement in focus, calmness and clarity, is experienced within an hour of taking a dose.

The medication I take is classified as a controlled drug. It has a big label on the bottle, stating that possession without a script is illegal. I am also required to do the occasional drug test in order to have my script renewed by my psychiatrist. This is to ensure I am not a habitual drug user who may be at risk of abusing my own medications.

I at first felt really dodgy and guilty opening up my work desk drawer to fish out dexamphetamine. I would even wrap the bottle up so no one could see the label. I hoped my workmates thought I was just taking Panadol. There is a lot of controversy around stimulant medications and it does affect you. The guilt I felt taking my medication surprised me. Thankfully, I am now on a slow release medication and only have to take one in the morning. No need to carry around a bottle of pills with illegal warnings all over it anymore.

Medication doesn’t fix everything though. I’ll write more on how I’m going these days soon.

#adhd #actually adhd #adult adhd #add #attention deficit hyperactivity #attention deficit hyperactivity disorder #medication #mental illness #neurodevelopment #adhd in women #female adhd

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