How do you decide when to go on meds and when to get off meds? I am in a position that the meds I take for my depression are non-habit forming and I can stop taking them periodically and plug along, caring for my depression with diet, exercise and life choices.
But recently, I have just not been able to pull myself out of the slump with the non-med routines. I feel like if I go back on my meds, I need to make an extended commitment (3-months or more) before I reevaluate taking chemicals every day.
The last time I went on meds, I took myself off (I discussed with my MD under what circumstances I could do this and how to do it) when I felt great but drugged-sluggish. I was really great for a while. But over the past month, I have not felt great. or good. or okay. I have not felt like me, the me I have come to know over the years. I am exercising every day (that I am not trapped inside by the snow and ice) and controlling my diet. But I am reluctant to go out into social situations and not be so lonely.
SO I think I need to start back taking the drug.
But I really hate taking drugs daily. And I already have a couple that I take daily. And I recently found out that I have hypothyroidism, which can exacerbate depression. I am on drug for that and physically I do feel better. My body, at least, feels better. My mind is still stuck in the dumps though.
Also, if I go back on the meds, I will have to get the prescription renewed and my current MD will likely want me to do to a therapist, a step that I am reluctant to commit to for some reason.
UGH. Pillow fort time. *now with added Kindle and bed warmer*
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
My Pillow Forts and My Suicidal Depression
Hello, my name is Lu and I hoard bed pillows. I have always had an extra
pillow on the bed but in the past year, the bed has become overcrowded with
pillows. I have a king size bed and currently have 6 king-size pillows (NOT in
shams, just in pillowcases) and two stuffed characters. I admit that
there is a perfectly good reason for the mountain fluffiness: pillow forts.
Sometimes, I need a pillow fort.
I even know why I am suddenly in need of pillow forts: Sometimes, I want to hide from the world. You see, I am battling suicidal depression (SD). My family knows. My friends know. My doctors know. They are all supportive and want to help. They are smart, educated people (two in my family have psychology degrees), but none of them have ever experienced it first hand and do not have a clue what suicidal depression feels like every day. In many ways, they tend to make things worse than better when they try to ‘help’. I am fully confident that they love me and are horrified that I am battling this. It is, in fact, thoughts of how devastated two of them would be that have kept me from killing myself when I am at my lowest. They want me to get over this hump and get back to normal; but for me, normal is a thing of the past.
There has been an increase in awareness of SD in the past few years. Soldiers who have given so much to their countries have been at the forefront of what seems like a pandemic of SD, with celebrity faces driving home the tragedy to the masses worldwide. Media mouthpieces all seem to want to explore SD when they have a face to show; the general public all have an opinion on the tragedy and how the victim could have avoided committing suicide, where they could have gotten help....
To the general public who knows how to fix the person who is battling SD: Shut up and support programs that support treatment, especially for vets. You do not know what they are going through and your advice is ill-informed and harmful.
SD is similar to a tumor in your brain.
Sometimes it is inflamed and large and angry, pressing to the forefront of everything that makes you you. It overpowers your thoughts, your actions, your senses, your heart, your soul. It makes your entire being heavy: Too heavy to get up, too heavy to physically operate your body, too heavy to process thoughts and emotions.
Sometimes it is small; miniscule, even. It falls into the deep dark far corner of your brain. You can laugh, you are creative and vibrant, you feel lightweight, like you have suddenly lost 20 pounds or cut your very long hair very short. Life that day is easy.
Most of the time it is somewhere in between, swaying lazily on a teeter totter, ready to fall heavily or rise airily. This is how most of my days are spent. Feeling great, vital, functioning…with a sense of pending doom…
But whether it is a light, medium, or heavy day, you wake up each morning having the same conversation with yourself: Is it today? Is today a light or heavy day? Is today the day that your courage to live absolutely fails under the weight of this tumor?
This is my morning conversation. Others battling Suicidal Depression may have another conversation, consciously or subconsciously. Each of our battles is unique. Each of our battle plans is unique. Professional treatment plans for each of us have to be tweaked to each of us to be optimally helpful.
Most of the time, I can say no or probably not. Sometimes I struggle with the answer. Then I open my eyes and I see the pictures around my room and the painting beside my bed.
The pictures are the most important people in my life. Most are of one of the most vital to my happiness. She is not my best friend; she is my most important friend. Luckily she is also my sister. And she has produced a very cute, very small doppelganger that figures prominently in the pictures around my bedroom. The pictures remind me that I am loved and that I have an amazing beautiful life to live.
The painting is the absolutely most frustrating painting I have ever produced. I can’t seem to finish it. I stare at it for hours and thing I know how to fix it but just can’t seem to get anything to work. It frustrates me. It annoys me. To the point that I can move past the questions I awake with, and move on.
The paintings and the picture help me to say ‘no, not today’ every morning. They help me start the day knowing that I am a little bit stronger than my Suicidal Depression and that the day will be okay. Seriously, if you can beat down suicide every day before you even crawl out of bed, there is pretty much nothing that can be thrown at you throughout the day that can beat you.
So, if you know me and you see me and think I am acting a bit down or depressed, just know that I have already won a battle in the war that day and have earned the right to be at least depressed.
Also, if you know me, never mention this blog to me. The things I post here are for me to air out my brain, not to provide you with conversation material.
Suggested Reading: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html
Play List: SD my way
I even know why I am suddenly in need of pillow forts: Sometimes, I want to hide from the world. You see, I am battling suicidal depression (SD). My family knows. My friends know. My doctors know. They are all supportive and want to help. They are smart, educated people (two in my family have psychology degrees), but none of them have ever experienced it first hand and do not have a clue what suicidal depression feels like every day. In many ways, they tend to make things worse than better when they try to ‘help’. I am fully confident that they love me and are horrified that I am battling this. It is, in fact, thoughts of how devastated two of them would be that have kept me from killing myself when I am at my lowest. They want me to get over this hump and get back to normal; but for me, normal is a thing of the past.
There has been an increase in awareness of SD in the past few years. Soldiers who have given so much to their countries have been at the forefront of what seems like a pandemic of SD, with celebrity faces driving home the tragedy to the masses worldwide. Media mouthpieces all seem to want to explore SD when they have a face to show; the general public all have an opinion on the tragedy and how the victim could have avoided committing suicide, where they could have gotten help....
To the general public who knows how to fix the person who is battling SD: Shut up and support programs that support treatment, especially for vets. You do not know what they are going through and your advice is ill-informed and harmful.
SD is similar to a tumor in your brain.
Sometimes it is inflamed and large and angry, pressing to the forefront of everything that makes you you. It overpowers your thoughts, your actions, your senses, your heart, your soul. It makes your entire being heavy: Too heavy to get up, too heavy to physically operate your body, too heavy to process thoughts and emotions.
Sometimes it is small; miniscule, even. It falls into the deep dark far corner of your brain. You can laugh, you are creative and vibrant, you feel lightweight, like you have suddenly lost 20 pounds or cut your very long hair very short. Life that day is easy.
Most of the time it is somewhere in between, swaying lazily on a teeter totter, ready to fall heavily or rise airily. This is how most of my days are spent. Feeling great, vital, functioning…with a sense of pending doom…
But whether it is a light, medium, or heavy day, you wake up each morning having the same conversation with yourself: Is it today? Is today a light or heavy day? Is today the day that your courage to live absolutely fails under the weight of this tumor?
This is my morning conversation. Others battling Suicidal Depression may have another conversation, consciously or subconsciously. Each of our battles is unique. Each of our battle plans is unique. Professional treatment plans for each of us have to be tweaked to each of us to be optimally helpful.
Most of the time, I can say no or probably not. Sometimes I struggle with the answer. Then I open my eyes and I see the pictures around my room and the painting beside my bed.
The pictures are the most important people in my life. Most are of one of the most vital to my happiness. She is not my best friend; she is my most important friend. Luckily she is also my sister. And she has produced a very cute, very small doppelganger that figures prominently in the pictures around my bedroom. The pictures remind me that I am loved and that I have an amazing beautiful life to live.
The painting is the absolutely most frustrating painting I have ever produced. I can’t seem to finish it. I stare at it for hours and thing I know how to fix it but just can’t seem to get anything to work. It frustrates me. It annoys me. To the point that I can move past the questions I awake with, and move on.
The paintings and the picture help me to say ‘no, not today’ every morning. They help me start the day knowing that I am a little bit stronger than my Suicidal Depression and that the day will be okay. Seriously, if you can beat down suicide every day before you even crawl out of bed, there is pretty much nothing that can be thrown at you throughout the day that can beat you.
So, if you know me and you see me and think I am acting a bit down or depressed, just know that I have already won a battle in the war that day and have earned the right to be at least depressed.
Also, if you know me, never mention this blog to me. The things I post here are for me to air out my brain, not to provide you with conversation material.
Suggested Reading: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2011/10/adventures-in-depression.html
Play List: SD my way
“Best Day of My Life” American
Authors
“I Wanna Get Better” Bleachers
“Little Wonders” Rob Thomas
“Lose Yourself” Eminem
“Walk” Foo Fighters
“Twilite Speedball” Mos Def
“Don’t Stop Believing” Journey
“I Bet My Life” Imaging Dragons
“I Lived” One Repblic
“I Hate You” Simon Curtis
“Sail” AWOLNATION
“Bliss” Syntax
“Fucking Perfect” Pink
“Word Crimes” Weird Al Yankovic
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