Posted in anxiety, Depression, mental health, Music

Citalopram Part 2

A week ago my mother asked a question “do you think the drugs you’re on are working?”

hank moodyI find the question tough to answer. There are days when I feel like I don’t want to leave my bedroom. Days where all I want to do is sleep. Sure, they’re infrequent now, once or twice every two weeks, rather than almost every day. I wonder if that’s a part of counselling, a part of the medication (citalopram), or a mixture of both.

I know that when I miss a dose I feel worse. Thoughts come back, self-harm comes back. However, it’s not as bad as my early 20s. Sure, I thought about killing myself a week ago, just like I did in November, but was that me, or, was that because I stopped taking my medication for two days to see what would happen?

introvert
A friend showed me this a few weeks ago, I love it because it’s true.

Citalopram has slowed my thinking. That’s the good. It has allowed me to focus on things that matter, my writing, my family, a business that I’m creating. The bad is that I’m uncomfortable being out with friends, when I ask someone they usually back away. Leaving me with the belief that I did something wrong. I’m pushing people away. A slow burn of belief that I’m not a good person.

I imagine opening a door. There are two choices on the other side and I don’t know who I am going to become. On one side, there’s worry that I am losing myself. The person who I was. The person that others know. The other side, there’s joy that I’m healing myself and getting better. An overwhelming thought that maybe that this worry is for nothing.

The funny thing is that I thought I knew about life. I really don’t, the past month has been a jumbled mess of confusion. One that my medication has helped with. If I wasn’t on them, I think I would be more lost than I really am. Maybe then my medication is working.

Advertisements
Posted in anxiety, Depression, mental health

Suicide on a Saturday Night

Last night I thought about suicide. For a few minutes I wanted to kill myself. Afterwards, I went into my room and listened to Music. I would come out and think about killing myself again. it wasn’t as bad as last November, but, the feeling was stronger. I looked back on the last three months and saw every door close. I realized that nothing I did mattered, not success, not happiness. There was only an overwhelming sense of failure.

I went to my doctor two weeks ago and told him that I don’t like the medication that I’m on, we talked about the anger issues that I had, the lack of sleep. His reply was that we were going to continue on the current dosage. I didn’t tell him about the fact that I haven’t left my house for about two months. Or that I haven’t hung out with friends, that is until Friday night, for the same amount of time.

I feel trapped right now. In a dead-end job, where I see other people getting opportunities and my hours being cut. I usually end up on the customer service sheet for good service every second week, yet nothing I do is appreciated. I feel trapped in a dead end series of schooling, where I feel lied to as I saw any chance of a Co-Op position dry up and wash away. I walked out of the program, I can’t afford to walk out of my job.

I worry that anyone I talk to about this just makes it worse. Which is why I tried to keep the fact that I had depression bottled up inside for over a decade. This writing and this blog have helped so much. I stopped writing a week ago, I never should have. I tried stopping citalopram by myself, I don’t recommend it.

I’m hoping that this is just a phase that I’m going through. It’s something that my counsellor has talked me through. Anyways. I’m going to write more, on this blog about my life, I’m hoping that will help.

Posted in anxiety, Depression, Memoir, mental health

The First Letter – 6 Months

While working with my counsellor since January one of the things that she suggested was that I write letters to who I was, after the first suicide attempt, and who I want to be, five years from now.

I think I’d like to start by writing a letter to myself from six months ago. It’s been close to six months since I tried to kill myself. I still don’t know what kept me from not going outside my room that night, but I’m grateful that it did. So here’s the letter:

I want to thank you for not going through with what you had planned. Not for anyone else but for you. You had the courage to get help, something that earlier in your life you never did. You had the courage to finally tell others. You will also find a new strength in others, strength in those both far and close.

Don’t be afraid of medication. Citalopram is hard, but you’ve been through worse. It will start to make you both sick and tired. In May you will be the angriest you have ever been. June you will be tired at the weirdest times. You will begin to feel calm. It will help to let people in your life.

There will be hard days. As your counsellor will explain it’s like an addiction, having both bad and good days. There will be days where you don’t want to get out of bed. There will be worse days where you inflict self-harm. Watch out for the end of February where you knock yourself unconscious. Then after a particularly bad day at work at the end of April where you wish you could end it and started to cut yourself with a knife.

You’ll find that a lot of the “friends” tend to run away at the mere mention of mental health, depression, and anxiety. Many will try to take advantage of you because of your condition while others simply will not understand. There are a few, both old and new, that will be there at a drop of a pin for you. It’s okay to keep those ones. You have to drop the rest like dead weight.

As your counsellor will tell you, only tell those you trust. Don’t run out and tell everyone. Do not tell anyone at work. You will find that they will judge you harder, try to take advantage of you, and make comments about your life because you do not live up to theirs. It’s okay to think of it as just a job, nothing more. You will talk with your counsellor about it. You go in, work, go out. Collect money with each pay cheque.

You will still not be able to tell people how you feel about them simply because you are scared of being close to another person. That means that the two people you do like you will run away from as far and as fast as you can. It’s something you’ll work on with your counsellor, especially that feeling that you are not allowed happiness that you have had since you were twenty-five.

There is a bright side that you will soon discover. That plan that you had when you were 31, that dream is well on its way to become a reality. A friend will help push you to create something that will not only help you, but other artists on Vancouver Island and the Lower Mainland as well.

Still, there will be questions, nobody but you deserve answers. That is why you’re getting help. It’s your life. You are getting stronger. You’re finally growing up. It’s only a matter of time before you become the success that everyone else says you are.

Posted in Depression, mental health, Writing - Poetry

Skyfather

Skyfather came to visit me
He spread his wings, and flew
Circling above my head
Asking what he can do

A wonderful shriek in his voice
Sweetly ringing from his tongue
Licking the air with his ears
And Stories of what I have done

From the tips of his golden beak
Soaring from brownish white breast
His eyes focusing on my life
Knowing I’m depressed

The talk of my life’s sorrow
As pain starts to begin
Believing in natural powers
And energies the flow within

As depression leaves my body
I’m feeling more at peace
My soul is put to rest
Skyfather awaits my release

Posted in Depression, Memoir, mental health, Reflection

No I Wont Do What You Want Me To Do

I remember one night towards the end of April, I had just gotten back from work and sat in front of my television. I looked at the screen with a cold, blank stare. As if I was out in depression-quotes-i-think-im-afraid-to-be-happyspace and lost control of my surroundings. The first time since February that I wanted to inflict self-harm. I wanted to hit myself. I wanted to do it with a knife.

As April closed I began to hate the place I found myself in, who I was, who I have been.  I felt like that scene in “Doctor Who” where the Doctor asks Clara if he’s a good man. However, in my life I don’t have a person that I trust enough to ask that question. There’s a fine line between trust and friendship. A line that throughout the past couple of months has become blurred. It’s why I keep to myself. Little did I know how this would lead into May.

As I told my Doctor yesterday morning, the month of May was the angriest that I had been since my early twenties. I couldn’t take the constant critiquing of what others thought my life should be. About the religion I believed in. About my life. About relationships. Constant questions like “why are you single?”, “where do you find women?”, did it really matter to others. Did my personal life, and how I live matter to people that much?

May became a challenge between what I thought about my life, and what others believed my life should be. To others my life was bad because I did not “conform” to their “reality”. It made me an easy target. People told me that others were bad for me so don’t hang out with them. That I was a better person. I actually believe that people thought I was too stupid to look at my surroundings and judge for myself.

Throughout the month I became angrier. I began to hate work. There were days where I would say fuck it, I don’t need this crap in my life. Work is a paycheque. I go. I work. I leave. The end. I began to hate school. A minuscule number of positions for co-op students did that. I changed my program.

han soloMay had a silver lining. It showed me that somewhere along the way, within the past five years since I left University, I lost track of what I wanted to do. I let others dictate who they wanted me to become. I Lost who I wanted to be.

Part of healing my life is becoming the person I want to be. I worked on a plan. I left the Business program and entered into a graphic arts diploma. It will help with building a business. I take more freedom from leaving work, knowing I don’t have anything to do with other people. Like I said, it’s just a paycheque. Maybe I’m selfish, but I’m finally doing what I want to do, not what others expect of me.