Tonight, driving home there was a sliver of the moon and a young guy on a bike who road in front of my car making me think I was going to hit him, and at the same time I was worried about the right brake light being out on my car and the fact that if a policeman saw me, I'd get a ticket or two for that and not wearing my seatbelt, and I probably wouldn't be able to find my car's registration since I don't know where I put it, and I probably wouldn't be able to find my car insurance card, because the last time I got a ticket it was because of not having the insurance card on me, and yeah, that was two years ago, but I don't always remember to fix things properly.
So here I am, headed home, singing to feminist tunes on a disc I compiled that I listen to on rotation all the time because my car has never had an antennae since it broke three years ago so I don't get the radio (and I don't really like much on the radio anyway except for Democracy Now, so that's not a problem).
And here I am driving home from the pharmacy where I paid $99 to get two days worth of Seroquel so that I will be able to stop mentally and physically suffering through the withdrawals of not having enough to take, because of a weeks-long, endlessly irritating and quite amazing fuck up by my doctor's office and/or the pharmacy and/or the insurance company. But the insurance will pay me back, supposedly, when I finally am able to get my prescription filled. (So far this has taken me approximately 20 phone calls to the community mental health center, the pharmacy, and my case manager, plus several visits to the pharmacy, plus a couple visits the mental health center, and yet, I do not have the prescription prescribed except for two days worth) Do you want to sigh yet? I'm not even started.
See, going off Seroquel, when you've been on a horrendously huge dose of it, and you have been taking the drug for years religiously, well, there are withdrawals. They are physical and mental, and they are hellish. I have been suffering through this for the past week and have only managed to stay out of the hospital by the skin of my teeth, because several times in the past few days, I probably needed to be in a hospital, or at least could have justified visiting one since, at least THERE I would get my goddamn prescription.
I hate the way my body and my mind are tied to these pills. I hate these pills, but I know I need them, so I also cherish these pills at the same time. My life revolves around these pills. I wonder, often, if I'll ever be free again.
So before that pharmacy visit I was telling you about, if you're still reading this, I had dinner with my family, during which time I got to witness and hear about a billion problems we all have, and I had to think, driving afterwards that there is something really wrong that my family has so many issues related to mental health, finances (poverty, really), and other things that I just worry about each of them so much I drive myself up the wall, and my anxiety is sky high, and I am endlessly trying to think up solutions to their problems when I am already unable to solve my own.
My own problems being things like, what I really want to do with my life, and whether or not I'm really capable of finishing college, and what the purpose of my degree will be if I get one and if I should think more about the job market and making money or about what my heart tells me to do with my life. I can't figure out if I can ever go to school full time and the social work program I was planning to apply to requires full time attendance, and then also an internship period where you work without pay for 15 weeks, and that is not something I could possibly afford to do, so this entire plan my have been derailed by money and illness factors. And there are other majors I could pick if I wanted to, but I don't really know what I am capable of, and I also don't really know one single degree that would lead to a single job where I could be successful.
So here I am, headed home, singing to feminist tunes on a disc I compiled that I listen to on rotation all the time because my car has never had an antennae since it broke three years ago so I don't get the radio (and I don't really like much on the radio anyway except for Democracy Now, so that's not a problem).
And here I am driving home from the pharmacy where I paid $99 to get two days worth of Seroquel so that I will be able to stop mentally and physically suffering through the withdrawals of not having enough to take, because of a weeks-long, endlessly irritating and quite amazing fuck up by my doctor's office and/or the pharmacy and/or the insurance company. But the insurance will pay me back, supposedly, when I finally am able to get my prescription filled. (So far this has taken me approximately 20 phone calls to the community mental health center, the pharmacy, and my case manager, plus several visits to the pharmacy, plus a couple visits the mental health center, and yet, I do not have the prescription prescribed except for two days worth) Do you want to sigh yet? I'm not even started.
See, going off Seroquel, when you've been on a horrendously huge dose of it, and you have been taking the drug for years religiously, well, there are withdrawals. They are physical and mental, and they are hellish. I have been suffering through this for the past week and have only managed to stay out of the hospital by the skin of my teeth, because several times in the past few days, I probably needed to be in a hospital, or at least could have justified visiting one since, at least THERE I would get my goddamn prescription.
I hate the way my body and my mind are tied to these pills. I hate these pills, but I know I need them, so I also cherish these pills at the same time. My life revolves around these pills. I wonder, often, if I'll ever be free again.
So before that pharmacy visit I was telling you about, if you're still reading this, I had dinner with my family, during which time I got to witness and hear about a billion problems we all have, and I had to think, driving afterwards that there is something really wrong that my family has so many issues related to mental health, finances (poverty, really), and other things that I just worry about each of them so much I drive myself up the wall, and my anxiety is sky high, and I am endlessly trying to think up solutions to their problems when I am already unable to solve my own.
My own problems being things like, what I really want to do with my life, and whether or not I'm really capable of finishing college, and what the purpose of my degree will be if I get one and if I should think more about the job market and making money or about what my heart tells me to do with my life. I can't figure out if I can ever go to school full time and the social work program I was planning to apply to requires full time attendance, and then also an internship period where you work without pay for 15 weeks, and that is not something I could possibly afford to do, so this entire plan my have been derailed by money and illness factors. And there are other majors I could pick if I wanted to, but I don't really know what I am capable of, and I also don't really know one single degree that would lead to a single job where I could be successful.
I have so much on my mind. You can take a deep breath now. I keep reminding myself to do that.
I saw my new therapist the other day for the second time, and he was telling me what a strong person I supposedly am, and I wondered whether or not there was some truth in that, because I never think it is. I miss my former therapist greatly because I could trust her totally, most of the time, and right now, there is nobody I can totally trust like that who understands me like she did, who can help me sort out all the stressors that are stressing me out as she would.
And I keep having health symptoms, like today really bad pain in both of my legs, (which may be from my Fibromyalgia although it never usually does this, or my low potassium, although I'm taking potassium tablets or it could be the peripheral neuropathy I have in one leg has spread to other and started to hurt in a different way) and I have neglected getting a tilt table test (to verify whether or not I still have Dysautonomia) I was supposed to get some time ago, and I think sometimes I might be seriously more ill than I know, and that scares me but then I remember nobody will believe me if I tell them what I'm experiencing, because when you have a psychiatric diagnosis, it has been my experience than the first diagnosis that comes to mind when you present with physical complaints is simply hypochondria.
And maybe I am a hypochondriac, but unfortunately I have several real diagnoses that say I am not. And I am still having intermittent chest pains, shortness of breath, and horrible fatigue which is the story of my life. I dream that I am dying of cancer or some other disease, lately, and wake up afraid that I actually am.
Also, due to lacking Seroquel I was too depressed and morose and bordering on suicidal all weekend to be able to do anything, so I accomplished little out of all the many things I needed to do, and the auditory hallucinations started to come back (for instance my phone is ringing all the time, but it's not actually ringing, I just hear it and it's a cell phone so it's easy to tell by looking at it that it is not ringing and yet I still hear it), there, out of the corner where they lurk, always waiting for their time to return, their next attack, their next disruption of my life and all that is stable and serene. So this past week has been one morass of misery in various forms.
I am really friggin' tired right now, and sick of writing this post, which was probably not enjoyable to read, so I'll stop now and the next time I post perhaps it would be a more pleasing piece of writing.
I am really friggin' tired right now, and sick of writing this post, which was probably not enjoyable to read, so I'll stop now and the next time I post perhaps it would be a more pleasing piece of writing.
But I will leave with the thought that I hold dear, that things will get better, that like everybody, I'll muddle through somehow, that maybe happiness exists somewhere in the future, and that I have hope, which peaks out every so often when needed, much like that little sliver of a moon. Keep your fingers crossed please.
P.S.:
This blog won an award recently which I will post soon. There will be a new winner or two of the "I Choose to Live Award" soon on this site as well. I also should mention that I had a great time at the conference of the National Organization for Women, I got to attend after my last post and was even able to see a bit of Boston while there. And this is the last week of the summer semester for me at school. I guess it doesn't hurt to end things on a positive note.
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