Whilst I’d love to say I had a wonderful and fun filled weekend, that would be a lie. Closer to the truth is I haven’t left my room since I got home from IOP last Thursday; okay, okay, the truth is I haven’t left my bed since Thursday night. Yes, I did get out of bed to grab something to eat on those rare occasions I ate and yes, I did get out of bed to use the potty as needed but other than that, I’ve not left my bed. (I mean ew, if I hadn’t gotten out of bed to use the potty, now that would be gross! Nothing like a little potty humor on a Monday morning). Thank goodness for my laptop and bedroom TV, but mostly for the laptop, as I’m not a TV person. Now, streaming movies to my laptop from Netflix is a different matter; streaming a movie means not having to deal with crowds, noisy theatres, and expensive drinks; I mean come on, $4 for a diet Coke? Netflix is my one exception to watching TV or movies. I’ve considered getting a Blu-ray player so I can stream Netflix to my TV, and so I can stream Pandora Radio through my entertainment systems sound system.
Looking back at this weekend, I realized a number of things. First, my antidepressants aren’t working as well as they should be or were before. I have mentioned this to my therapist when I saw her last Thursday. She said she’d try to get me into the psychiatrist for a medication evaluation sooner than my appointment at the beginning of December. I tend to be a challenge where medications are concerned because I have so many drug allergies (over 120 known drug allergies and counting) and can’t take many antidepressants because of my reaction to them. One reason I’ve had so many inpatient stays is due to drugs not working, levels needing to be changed, and the like; I once spent three months inpatient as they attempted to find a medication routine that worked for me. After three months, they gave up and told me I’d just have to learn to live with my depression, but that was a few years ago and they have new medications I can try.
Second, this past weekend tells me my depression is worse now than before my last two inpatient stays, or my previous four suicide attempts (I had four attempts in a three-month period). Given how easy it is for me to become overloaded and do something stupid to stop the emotional pain, having my depression running consistently at a 10 is not a good thing. Whilst I have dealt with my depression since my teens, it’s currently at its worst and has been for a long time now; much longer than any of my previous bouts of depression. It is the depths of my depression and duration that has me concerned most; okay, in hindsight, it’s my not knowing how or what to do to deal with it. My normal coping methods are no longer working, which is something else that concerns me.
Whilst I know medications are only a part of the process of dealing with my mental health issues, I was hoping they could at least stabilize me enough so I can attempt to deal with my issues. My medications were working for a while; hopefully it’s just a simple matter of adjusting their levels.
Last night was the first time since starting my anxiety medications that I’ve had a panic attack and it was over something stupid. Well stupid when I look back at the incident now. The trigger for my panic attack? Being unable to find my anxiety medications! Yes, I couldn’t find my anxiety medications, panicked about it, and it sent me into a panic attack.
Panic attacks are never fun and the one Sunday night reminded me that medications can do only so much when dealing with panic attacks that come on suddenly. My panic attacks come on hard and fast; thank you so much PTSD.
Whilst I might have been able to head off this panic attack by not panicking over not being able to find my anxiety medication by stopping to think which purse I used last. Instead, I tore my book bag apart since that’s what I use most, but no medication. Then I tore apart the purse I used last, but again no medication. By now my anxiety levels were through the roof and I tore my room apart looking for my medication. With my anxiety level now at a 10, I noticed the mess I’d made of my room; of course that’s when my OCD kicked in. Before I knew it, I was curled into a ball in a corner between my bed and the wall, hyperventilating, shaking uncontrollably, terrified I’d lost my medication, and crying in hysterically; all because I couldn’t find the one thing supposed to help me not get like that.
Looking back over the weekend, all I can say is I’ve had better…
Peace, love, and contentment,