Anxiety and Depression

I've been working at the clinic and university as part of the internship for a couple of weeks now. My anxiety isn't as bad as I thought it would be. At least not when I am at work. I work Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and on Sunday I had a bit of an anxiety attack. Basically my breathing was shallow, all because I was anticipating work on Tuesday. It only lasted a few minutes but it was pretty uncomfortable. I used to have anxiety (when I wasn't working or in the internship) so bad that I couldn't get out of bed in the morning. It is odd that now that I have a job, the anxiety isn't as bad as it had been. I guess the structure is helping.

My last therapist Jeanne used to bill me with the diagnosis of GAD (generalized anxiety disorder). Just one of the many diagnoses I've had over the years. Another was depression. I actually was reading a book in Borders the other day, it was about what you need to know about psychiatric drugs. I actually learned about the different types of depression that I did not know about. My depression resembles the description of atypical depression. According to healthyplace.com, it is described as:

"Sufferers of depression with atypical features will respond to negative or positive external events. They'll feel deeply depressed or somewhat hopeful depending on the latest situation they are faced with. Their mood will brighten considerably when dining out with friends or enjoying a good movie. But when they are alone, their mood will slip back into the dark depths of depression."

And in another excerpt:

"This type of depression is very common in women. The symptoms of overeating, oversleeping, hypersensitivity to rejection (especially romantic rejection) and intermittent panic attacks, are characteristic of atypical depression. This type of depression usually begins in adolescence and, if untreated, will often continue throughout life."

Mine started in adolescence, which is the age the website stated that it can begin. Back then I hadn't started psych meds; I didn't start meds until I was 20 but, by then, I had other problems to deal with. Reading the book in the store reminded me of my pain.

On Saturday I am supposed to take the Keyboard Specialist exam again. I don't know if I really want to take it anymore. To be honest, I don't know if I want to work full-time in the future. I think part-time is best for me. The keyboard specialist job pays too much for part-time, I would lose my benefits. I spent almost ten years unemployed, and it is difficult getting used to working again.

Repeat patient

So now that I am home again, I have lots of time to fill. In the hospital I was coloring in little kids coloring books with crayons and colored pencils. It is a good way to kill time when you're waiting for your doctor or your night-time meds.

I recently bought a book called "The Ultimate Tea Diet." So I was reading some of that today. I bought it for the extensive information about tea- I find it very interesting. I am a tea lover, in particular, black teas. I enjoy the Tazo 'Awake' tea at Starbucks and Chai lattes. I can drink caffeinated or decaf. However, if I have an appointment to go to, I'll drink caffeinated so I am alert. My new dosage of meds is making me a bit tired and I made the mistake of drinking decaf the day of my last therapy session. I was pretty knocked out and did not get much out of the therapy session at all.

I got a little bit annoyed at my therapist during my last session. It was the first time I'd seen her since the hospital. I felt the questions were annoying, especially when she started on the topic of my housing situation. She wants me to call my house counselor, she even offered to do it for me. She wants me to work on my issues with my housemates and apply for different housing until I can get couples housing. I don't want to do this. My issues with my housemates have been ongoing since I moved in, and talking to the counselor will most likely make life a living hell for me here. My housemates are very immature for their age, and they have been known to retaliate toward one another when someone speaks up to the counselor. They will make up stuff, especially the older one. I don't need that b.s. I really don't. The best thing for me to do is continue keeping food in my storage bin in my room, getting out of the house often, and hoping and praying that my boyfriend and I hear from couples housing.

I am not looking forward to my next therapy session, because I will not have done what she was pressuring me to do. She however cannot call my counselor without my permission unless I intend on hurting myself or hurting someone else. Gotta love confidentiality.

The big question of the day/moment is: Am I depressed? I think I am to an extent. It always seems to happen when I come home from the hospital and back to my lovely reality. It would explain why I was irritable in my last therapy session. And why I am so pessimistic about my future with this therapist at the moment. When I first started going to her, I was raving about how she is such a good therapist, with all her questions and analysis.

I am upset I missed the Coldplay concert.

Basically I think I saved myself from a psychotic episode that was waiting to happen. I started becoming a bit manic, and my nightmares and lack of sleep were indicative of problems ahead. Lack of sleep was what preceded my very first hospitalization. You begin to learn to recognize your symptoms when you are a repeat patient. Well, at least I have. The progression into psychosis for me usually consists of being manic/lack of sleep/anxiety.

Tuesday morning I have training for becoming a volunteer at the all-cat shelter. Hopefully I will be able to get up early ok. I have my psychiatrist that afternoon, so it shall be a busy day.

Not a problem...

I saw my parents for the first time tonight in a long time. I hadn't seen them since Christmas evening. It is strange that I felt so comfortable with them tonight because I am going through some issues revolving around the abuse I experienced during my childhood. Some old wounds have been re-opened. As long as it's not down-pouring, I am going to drive myself to therapy with Jeanne tomorrow. I haven't driven to her office in months. Hopefully I will be able to work on some stuff...hopefully my brain won't freeze up and leave me silent. I don't think that will be a problem, as I am feeling mildly depressed these past few days. Usually when I feel this way, talking to her is not a problem.

I see my psychiatrist on Wednesday. I don't anticipate any med changes. If I wanted more meds, I'd probably get them. Anything to keep me out of the hospital.

Trying

I have been aware that I had not written a blog post yet this month, but I just wasn't sure that I had anything substantial to write about. My boyfriend left my house around 5:30 this morning, and he was running late to work. We had a good visit. I was a little cranky yesterday and then again at 4 this morning, but other than that things went well.

I felt bad about having been cranky and so I slept the day away today. Some people would probably say that I was depressed, so I guess that's what it was. I don't know. For me, my memories of depression involve being morbidly obsessed with suicide and predictions of a very short lifespan. I am not like that now, which is a good thing. I guess I just don't understand mild depression. Just like I don't understand someone being slightly paranoid. I am not paranoid now, thankfully, but perhaps I am mildly depressed a lot of the time and not even aware of it.

I am not sure I understand the concept of happiness.

I understand that some people believe that life is what you make of it. I guess I didn't do too well making something of my life. Maybe it's because I have been chemically unbalanced for the majority of my time on earth so far. I probably have more of a chance now that I have ever had. There is a part of me that is trying.

Autumn is here

So today is officially the first day of Autumn. It feels like it too; it is quite chilly here. It is starting to get chilly in my room and that is with the windows shut. Soon I'll have to start wearing a jacket when I walk.

I got my car inspected today and had them look it over for anything it might need. It got a clean bill of health. My parents even ended up offering to pay for it since I'll be baby-sitting the cats at their house next week. Works out great because I am pretty broke, so now I have some food and gas money to last me until next month. I've got to give my parents credit for helping me out nowadays. They made my life a living hell back in the day; but these days that I am not living with them, they are more considerate.

My boyfriend got a letter back from the housing committee. They said that housing is in high demand. That isn't much of a surprise to me. I myself am on the Section 8 waiting list (government subsidized housing). Anyone applying for Section 8 around here can expect to wait several years before their number is called. I am number 10,000 or something around that. Mental health housing is quicker than Section 8, thankfully. It will probably take several months for the couples' housing, considering what they said.

My case manager is driving me to my therapist (Jeanne) on the 29th. She had me sign a second bus pass application- I am guessing the first one got lost. For this week, I will speak with Jeanne on the phone. I will have a regular office visit with Dr. K tomorrow. I've been in therapy for about ten years. I had brief therapy in high school which I am not counting in that figure. I was so suicidal and depressed in high school that my therapist had her hands full. Amazingly, she did not refer me to a psychiatrist. Could it be that she thought my depression was environmentally influenced? If only I could get my hands on the notes from those sessions. The counseling agency I was using closed down, so who knows where on earth the notes are, if anywhere. Perhaps that is a good thing.

Beginnings

So my boyfriend is visiting. Tonight is the NAMI meeting, but we decided not to go. We had a long day, a lot of time was spent driving around looking for an Entenmann's Factory Outlet. We first went to the one by me, but it was closed and said they are relocating, but listed other locations. So we decided to go to one of the locations on the sign. We drove and drove and it turns out that one was shut down too! Entenmann's is not only the best bakery line, in my opinion, but also brings back many fond memories from my childhood. That's right, food brings back good memories. My grandmother was probably one of their best customers buying their cakes and cookies like every week. She would always give my sister and I dessert when we lived with her. It wasn't the desserts growing up that caused my weight gain though. It was my psych meds interfering with my appetite and metabolism. My grandmother eventually developed Alzheimer's disease and forgot about the need to eat. We fed her Entenmann's even when she didn't remember what it was anymore. It was always her favorite. I would hope that someone would remember my favorite things if I forgot what they were. I don't plan on having any kids ever, so I don't know who would visit me if I ended up in a nursing home someday. Oh, well, can't worry about everything...though I manage to worry about most things on a daily basis.

The dark and depressing parts of life always seem to attract me like a magnet. My depression was all I had when I was 13. I had no friends (we had just moved to a different town) and nothing to do besides homework. My dad was drinking all the time, and being really silly and embarassing. My mom was depressed and violent most of the time. So I started getting into working extra diligently on my homework. I became creative with my writing assignments, mixing in elements of my dark depression in an attempt to cry for help. Most of the teachers ignored it. One wrote a note on my paper and told me that the school psychologist was a very friendly and gentle person I could go to talk to if I needed. At least someone paid attention. However, I didn't have the strength to make an appointment with him on my own. It took my boyfriend at the time going down to guidance and telling them they thought something was wrong with my mother and the way she treated me to get me in any sort of counseling situation. One day I was in health class and they paged me to go down to the guidance office. I thought I was in trouble or something. Anyway, the airhead of a guidance counselor I had decided she would be my 'therapist.' She was not helpful in the least, until I told her I was suicidal and she called my dad. My dad listened to her and found me a social worker to talk to. That was the beginning of the great downfall; though it seemed like things were getting better, things were actually about to get much worse.

'Kendra's Law'

It has come to my attention that I am clearly more depressed than I thought. Sometimes it is hard to see out of the fog. I do believe that my depression this time around is merely situational depression. There is a lot of crap on my mind that is bothering me.

I went for a physical last Friday to get necessary paperwork for my housing application. The doc told me that I had a slight heart murmur. This freaked me out, I did not say or ask anything. I am always worried about my heart and this was just some fuel for the fire. It took me back to a conversation I had a long time ago with a fellow mentally ill friend. He had told me he had a heart attack and warned me about psych meds f'ing with my heart. He said something about his heart valve being damaged by his antipsychotic. I immediately attributed my heart murmur to long term effects of my medicine. If my heart murmur is slight now, could it get worse with the continual doses of perphenazine and Abilify? If that is the case I am doomed.

I cannot go off of this medication. The one time I did, the hospital took me to court to have me mandated to take my meds in a supervised community residence. It is Kendra's Law-a law stemming from a schizophrenic committing a horrific criminal act while off his medication. I did NOT commit any crimes. Not all schizophrenics are prone to violence when symptomatic, contrary to popular belief. In fact, they coerced me into lying to the judge- saying that I was non-compliant with medication three times. I was only non-compliant once. But if I didn't go along with the lie, I would not ever get out of the hospital they said. I assume they meant they'd send me to a state institution. Is that horrific or what? I think so.

A little background...

I've suffered from depression ever since I was 13 years old. When it started, I was obsessed with death and romanticized suicide. I had visions of hanging myself from this one tree in my backyard. On Halloween at the age of 14, I took a knife to my wrist. Nothing happened, as I was just playing with knives. I wanted to see how difficult it would be to cut myself. I was far too weak to do any harm to myself at that point. Some might argue that I was not weak, but strong.

Over the years, I have confused the many mental health practitioners that treated me. I've had about a dozen different diagnoses. I find it rather amusing and it makes me question the 'science of psychiatry.' They all agreed that I had depression though. Quite frankly, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out! I made it very obvious.

The latest DSM-IV diagnosis of mine is Schizoaffective Disorder of the depressed type. I have never heard voices. I feel blessed that I have not suffered from voices. Schizoaffective disorder, by the way, is a combination of schizophrenia and depression.

I take a few psychiatric medications and see two therapists as well as a psychiatrist. My therapists are Dr. K and Jeanne. I can't decide between the two, so I figured I'd keep both of them. My insurance pays for both of them because one is a clinical psychologist and the other is a social worker.

I am in a serious relationship and we are trying to get couples housing. He also has mental illness. I live in supported housing at the moment with two housemates. They are smokers and I don't smoke. Most supported housing options around here have smoking tenants. If I had decided to wait until a non-smoking house became available, I would probably still be waiting.

I come from a dysfunctional family, and I'll leave it at that. I don't think that is at all uncommon nowadays.

I have struggled with my weight for many years now. Psych meds can screw up your appetite and metabolism. My appetite is much smaller nowadays, though for some reason lately I have been getting sugar cravings after dinner. I have tried a commerical dieting program and succeeded on that once. Then my meds got increased and I put back on some of the pounds. Damn meds.

I like to write poetry and paint. Bob Ross is my artistic inspiration. My poetry stems from my mental health issues and my relationships.