30 Mar 2017 - Letters
[insert greeting]
Day 35 on escitalopram.
Mood: 3. I feel hollow and numb, and like nothing I do will matter.
I met with my psychiatrist today. After I laid out how I've been worsening and haven't seen much benefit if any from the Lexapro, Dr. Gilbert presented me with two options: adding an antianxiety drug to take as needed, or increasing my dose. Since anxiety isn't a huge issue for me, at least I don't think that it is, I went with the larger dose - so now, I'll be taking the largest amount of escitalopram prescribed. The thought of taking the rest of this month's pills all in one go and intentionally overdosing on them crossed my mind, as such thoughts usually do. SSRIs aren't particularly lethal drugs, though, and high concentrations cause things like seizures and serotonin syndrome, and those aren't risks I'm willing to take in the name of stopping the pain for good.
That I considered killing myself at the lake over the weekend came up as well, and I'm honestly a little shocked by how blase I've become in regards to discussing suicidal thoughts. They come up so frequently now that it's more or less normal, a constant thing in the back of my mind. There can't be anything more abnormal, for a living organism to constantly be thinking about ending their own life and, worse, not be deeply disturbed by that.
While I was at the health center, I (at Dr. Gilbert's behest) spoke to one of the counselors on staff as well. I was distracted by the start color contrast between the counselor's eyeliner and the inside edge of her eyelids when we talked, and her gaze was piercing in an unnerving way, but I liked her, and the talk was productive. She, like me, speaks in analogies and metaphor, and the common language of figurative language really made her point that I need to make an active effort to take care of myself by taking time to do things I enjoy sink in. It's not the first time that I've been told this - three other people have said - but this is the time that it made it past the wholly rational layers of my mind and touched the parts more responsible for governing behavior.
She also offered to write up letters to my instructors detailing how I'm struggling with mental health issues, and to provide help and/or support should I need it. I don't know which of my professors I'll give said letter to, if any of them, since I don't know what good it would do. I'm also very aware of the stigma that depression and other mental health challenges carry, and how there are people that don't accept them as being "real", so I'm a little nervous that one or more of my instructors will write me off as just making excuses for being a subpar student. Or worse, that they'll think I'm making things up in an attempt to get extensions for things.
Granted, the amount of effort that would go into making two whole departments think that I have a mental health issue when I don't in order to get a letter on official health center letterhead saying that I should get extensions or whatever is way more than I'd be willing to spend, but the fear is there.
I've noticed as well an intensification of the discomfort I feel around Favorite Person, to the point that I didn't go to a meeting with a group we're both in for a large project to avoid being in close proximity. This concerns me, partly because I let the group down by not being present, but mostly because I can't deduce a reason, rational or not, that I'm as uncomfortable as I am. Not knowing why I feel a certain way means that it's impossible for me to rectify the situation - you can't cure something if you don't know what's causing it. It feels almost like a feedback loop, where I'm feeling uncomfortable around her, feeling guilty about being uncomfortable, worrying that my guilt and discomfort will be blatant and easily picked up on, and feeling more uncomfortable. I just don't know where or why the cycle started.
Perhaps this is the ultimate manifestation of my fear of eventually being abandoned, intense discomfort as motivation to slowly cut myself away. You can't be hurt by the people closest to you if you remove yourself first.
Today is day 1 of 20mg Lexapro. I'm going to go to bed a little early, since I don't know what impact it'll have on how deeply I sleep tonight.
Until then.
30 Mar 2017
Day 35 on escitalopram.
Mood: 3. I feel hollow and numb, and like nothing I do will matter.
I met with my psychiatrist today. After I laid out how I've been worsening and haven't seen much benefit if any from the Lexapro, Dr. Gilbert presented me with two options: adding an antianxiety drug to take as needed, or increasing my dose. Since anxiety isn't a huge issue for me, at least I don't think that it is, I went with the larger dose - so now, I'll be taking the largest amount of escitalopram prescribed. The thought of taking the rest of this month's pills all in one go and intentionally overdosing on them crossed my mind, as such thoughts usually do. SSRIs aren't particularly lethal drugs, though, and high concentrations cause things like seizures and serotonin syndrome, and those aren't risks I'm willing to take in the name of stopping the pain for good.
That I considered killing myself at the lake over the weekend came up as well, and I'm honestly a little shocked by how blase I've become in regards to discussing suicidal thoughts. They come up so frequently now that it's more or less normal, a constant thing in the back of my mind. There can't be anything more abnormal, for a living organism to constantly be thinking about ending their own life and, worse, not be deeply disturbed by that.
While I was at the health center, I (at Dr. Gilbert's behest) spoke to one of the counselors on staff as well. I was distracted by the start color contrast between the counselor's eyeliner and the inside edge of her eyelids when we talked, and her gaze was piercing in an unnerving way, but I liked her, and the talk was productive. She, like me, speaks in analogies and metaphor, and the common language of figurative language really made her point that I need to make an active effort to take care of myself by taking time to do things I enjoy sink in. It's not the first time that I've been told this - three other people have said - but this is the time that it made it past the wholly rational layers of my mind and touched the parts more responsible for governing behavior.
She also offered to write up letters to my instructors detailing how I'm struggling with mental health issues, and to provide help and/or support should I need it. I don't know which of my professors I'll give said letter to, if any of them, since I don't know what good it would do. I'm also very aware of the stigma that depression and other mental health challenges carry, and how there are people that don't accept them as being "real", so I'm a little nervous that one or more of my instructors will write me off as just making excuses for being a subpar student. Or worse, that they'll think I'm making things up in an attempt to get extensions for things.
Granted, the amount of effort that would go into making two whole departments think that I have a mental health issue when I don't in order to get a letter on official health center letterhead saying that I should get extensions or whatever is way more than I'd be willing to spend, but the fear is there.
I've noticed as well an intensification of the discomfort I feel around Favorite Person, to the point that I didn't go to a meeting with a group we're both in for a large project to avoid being in close proximity. This concerns me, partly because I let the group down by not being present, but mostly because I can't deduce a reason, rational or not, that I'm as uncomfortable as I am. Not knowing why I feel a certain way means that it's impossible for me to rectify the situation - you can't cure something if you don't know what's causing it. It feels almost like a feedback loop, where I'm feeling uncomfortable around her, feeling guilty about being uncomfortable, worrying that my guilt and discomfort will be blatant and easily picked up on, and feeling more uncomfortable. I just don't know where or why the cycle started.
Perhaps this is the ultimate manifestation of my fear of eventually being abandoned, intense discomfort as motivation to slowly cut myself away. You can't be hurt by the people closest to you if you remove yourself first.
Today is day 1 of 20mg Lexapro. I'm going to go to bed a little early, since I don't know what impact it'll have on how deeply I sleep tonight.
Until then.
30 Mar 2017
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