How It Went

We decided not to change my meds, just up the dosage. But, if this doesn’t do the trick, then I’m going to a psychiatrist.

A part that’s hard is how ingrained in me it is to downplay my own discomfort, to just assume I should suck it up and “deal” with it, whatever that means.

So, like, when the doctor asked me if I had missed work over this–even though I had just left work early on Monday to come home and go to bed–my first instinct was to say “no,” because I didn’t want to bother her with my problems.

I told her I was crying every day, but I tried to downplay it by saying, “but for no reason. Nothing bad is happening to me everyday. Obviously.”

I told her that I think my therapist is concerned I might be suicidal. “I’m not suicidal, but I wouldn’t mind if I died.”

See? All is well. I’m not actively harming myself. I’m just passively laying around hoping my suffering will end.

A thing I can’t explain, though,–and maybe it’s just a sign of how desperate I am to feel better or maybe it is because I do still have some self-preservation instinct–is that I’m not outright lying to her. That I’m there at all instead of just being at home not bothering anyone. And that I am making my thought processes clear to her, even when, as I say them out loud, I see how fucked up they are.

Anyway, I started my new dosage last night. I felt tired and nauseous. I also felt like I should write C. a long letter about how awesome he is, but I just sent a short text instead.

I dreamed about this grouchy guy I know laughing.

Today I feel weird. Like, obviously, this is the most I’ve wanted to write here in a long time, but it’s also taken me a long time to write it. I keep getting distracted by nothing. But, unlike usual, where I’d just get distracted and stop or distracted and not start, I keep drifting back here.

I feel super tired, but I tried to sleep in and couldn’t. And I feel this kind of weird… not a tingle… but like a pre-tingle… across my shoulders.

So, I don’t know. That’s where I am. I would say that I’m going to take it easy this weekend but my dog needs me and I’ve got to do some saving history stuff. But maybe that’s just today. Maybe tomorrow I take it easy.

3 thoughts on “How It Went

  1. I’m really glad you are still here. I’m sorry it’s been so hard. I keep thinking I’ll have an excuse to go to Nashville again and how cool it would be to maybe buy you a coffee and say thanks for your stories. Not to be a weird stalker or anything. Your talent and creativity (the stories, the blankets, the freaking dying and wool spinning badassery) astonish me. I’m just an internet rando, but I like knowing people like you exist. If that helps any.

  2. I’m so sorry that the depression persists. I went through a severe 8-month depression last year, where the best I could say was “I wish I were dead, but imagining the work I would have to do to leave my affairs in order, and imagining how much work my family would have to do to deal with all my junk, is what keeps me from taking steps to leave.” It took a combination of different meds, ACT cognitive therapy, acupuncture, and daily meditation to finally start feeling better in January. I’m jealous you have a dog – I like to imagine that if I had one, I would know at least that I was well-loved by one creature on earth. I hope you know you are appreciated and enjoyed by a lot of people online, and we are all cheering for you to endure this and come out on the other side happy and relaxed.

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