Therapy

Therapy

Today is brought to you by the letter “T” and I choose for it to stand for “THERAPY” as part of the A to Z Blogging Challenge. My theme for this Challenge is depression and anxiety and all that goes with it.

I attend therapy (if that’s what you want to call it), once a week for 20 minutes.  Hardly seems like enough time for anything therapeutic if you ask me.  I have been trying to get a referral to a new psychiatrist but nobody will accept me because I already have a psychiatrist. (the Quack I wrote about a few days ago)

I had my hopes up earlier in the week when my GP’s office called me with a referral to another psychiatrist.  I called and they never called back.  A nurse from the GP’s office called again this morning to say the new psychiatrist wouldn’t call me back because they wouldn’t be accepting me as a patient due to the fact they don’t offer “second opinions.”  That really bothered me and I keep thinking to myself, “do I have to hurt myself in order to get help?”  This upsets me to think like this and I have been crying on and off all day today, unable to control my emotions. My partner came home from work to be with me.  She didn’t have to but I appreciated it.  To stop the crying, I took a Clonazepam and waited for it to make me drowsy.  I laid down and cried myself to sleep.

This is why I need therapy.  I think I need a psychiatrist who will work with CBT (cognitive behavior therapy) or something.  I’m not really sure what CBT actually is but I heard it might help.  I also think I need a psychologist but those are not covered by insurance.   All I know is I am very frustrated and need some sort of effective therapy, not the type I am getting now.

I have an appointment with my Quack this morning and my partner is going with me to lay down the law.  I don’t have the nerve to do it so my partner will be the “bad guy”.  I need to fire my psychiatrist first, so I can get another one which means I will be without my prescriptions and insurance paperwork for awhile.  This is not acceptable and brings me back to where I am thinking I need to hurt myself in order to get the help I am looking for.  Frustrating.

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Quack

Quack

Today is brought to you by the letter “Q” and I choose for it to stand for “QUACK” as part of the A to Z Blogging Challenge.

My theme for this Challenge is depression and anxiety and all that goes with it.

A “quack” is a “fraudulent or ignorant pretender to medical skill” or a person who pretends, professionally or publicly, to have skill or qualifications he or she does not possess.

Lately I have been very frustrated with my psychiatrist.  I frequently refer to him as a quack whenever I speak of him.  He is absolutely useless and doesn’t ask me very much.  If I am not talking, there is this awkward silence that just hangs over the room.  He’ll just stare at me, waiting for me to say something, it’s awful.  At the end of our twenty minute weekly session, he will ask me if I need any refills and that’s it.  No cognitive behaviour therapy or anything “doctorly” or therapeutic ever happens and the only reason I still see him is because of my insurance and I need prescriptions. Quack

This picture was taken in my backyard.  We have ducks visit our pool every Spring.  This little duck reminds me of my psychiatrist.  I should name him “Quack.”

What Now, Prozac?

So this post might be a bit rambling, I want to just vent about my week dealing with my depression and anxiety.  My parents returned from their winter home and haven’t asked me any dumb questions about work or my depression yet.  This is good and bad at the same time.  I am now very anxious all the time, waiting for the subject to be broached.  I see my parents just about every day  in the Spring and Summer so I know it’s just a matter of time.

I told my psychiatrist today that I can’t handle the horrendous night sweats the Zoloft is giving me.  They have been there since day one on Zoloft and only seem to be getting worse.  I wake up at least once every night, drenched in sweat and shivering because my clothes are soaked.  I thought it might go away over time but after doing some research online, I now see that is wishful thinking.

I am now going to start on Prozac tomorrow morning.  Prozac has such a bad connotation with me.  I immediately think of crazy people in a hospital when I hear that name.  Despite this negative association I have formed, I am going to give it a shot as the night sweats and food cravings have become unbearable.  Stay tuned…

Neglect

Neglect

Today is brought to you by the letter “N” and I choose for it to stand for “NEGLECT” as part of the A to Z Blogging Challenge.

My theme for this Challenge is depression and anxiety and all that goes with it.

Have you ever felt neglected, while dealing with mental illness?  I think we all have to some extent.  Either you can’t afford or can’t find the help you need?  You are certainly not alone.  Some sobering facts on mental illness from the Canadian Mental Health Association:

  • Mental illness indirectly affects all Canadians at some time through a family member, friend or colleague.
  • 20% of Canadians will personally experience a mental illness in their lifetime.
  • Mental illness affects people of all ages, educational and income levels, and cultures.
  • Approximately 8% of adults will experience major depression at some time in their lives.
  • About 1% of Canadians will experience bipolar disorder (or “manic depression”).

I think the reason a lot of people dealing with mental illness feel alone in their plight is because a lot of the time, mental health issues go unreported.  These are the neglected people and they are everywhere.  There are a lot of people out there who don’t want to seek help with their depression or anxiety because they are embarrassed or think there is no help.  They fall through the cracks and go unreported.   Sometimes, it gets worse and is reported as mental illness in hindsight, after a suicide.

When you neglect to help yourself, it is hard for others to see you as in need of help.  This just spirals out of control and you end up feeling helpless and broken.

There are lots of resources out there, ones you don’t know about yet so if you are struggling with depression and anxiety like I am, you need to know I have been recently helped by previously unknown (to myself) resources.  A few weeks ago I had a real mental health crisis.  I wanted to die and was fixated on it.  I couldn’t get in out my head.  My doctor set me up with one of her clinic’s mental health nurses for counseling and it September 18, 2013is much better than my psychiatrist.

I am guilty of neglect myself.  I feel I really need the help of a psychologist but I don’t have the money for one.  In Canada, psychiatry is free but not a psychologist.  I am covered with my work insurance but it will only get me about two sessions worth so I will forgo that option for now.  I feel I have enough doctors’ appointments scheduled already.

As I am writing this, I see over on Yahoo News, there is a new headline:

Homaro Cantu Dead: Famed Chef Dies at 38 of Apparent Suicide

Did not know the man, don’t know his story but it seems to me it is one of neglect.

Help

IMG_9431

Today is brought to you by the letter “H” and I choose for it to stand for “HELP” as part of the A to Z Blogging Challenge.

My theme for this Challenge is depression and anxiety and all that goes with it.

I always as far back as I can remember, have always asked for professional help with my depression and anxiety.  When I first started getting depressive episodes back in my late teens and early twenties, I sought help with counseling from my doctor, as well as a psychiatrist.  Fast forward twenty something years now and things haven’t changed much.  I would say I wasn’t getting the right kind of help I needed.  Some would argue that the help has been working as I am still here.

I imagine that there are a lot of people who don’t ask for help with their mental illness, out of fear or maybe they don’t think they have the resources available to them.  Recently, I have been seeing a nurse at my GP’s office for counseling sessions and it was a resource I did not know existed until I dragged myself into my doctor’s office during a particularly alarming  depressive episode recently.  During this appointment, I was also given a few other resources I had no clue about.

If you are the type who does not seek help when you really need it, please be aware that there are options out there and resources that might help you.  They did for me.  Summon up the courage and ask for help.  It doesn’t mean you’re weak, it means you value yourself.   You are worth it!help

Got a Speeding Ticket Today

Got a speeding ticket today, was deserved but let me back the day up some!

My partner took today off so she could go to my psychiatrist appointment with me for support.  I needed a strong voice in my corner to express my frustration of not being able to “fix” my anxiety and now, my deepening depression because of it.  I have been slipping deeper into a depression again because of my hopelessness I feel in dealing with my anxiety.  The frustration I am having with my psychiatrist at the moment in making matters much worse.  I feel he is not helping me in the least and I have been waiting for a referral to a psychologist for quite some time.  My insurance is on my case, wanting to know what’s taking so long.  Every time they call, I just get all stressed all over again.  I just want to tell them, “Hey, I’ll call YOU when I start to feel better, how’s that?”

My psychiatrist told me the doctor he was trying to refer me to, isn’t taking anyone who deals with insurance because it requires too much of her time.  WOW!  So I guess I must wait even longer now.  I ended up seeing my GP last week in the throes of my Cymbalta withdrawal problems and because I was very worried about my frame of mind (enough said of that).  She set up a counseling session with a nurse next Monday to talk so at lease I have THAT.  My psychiatrist of course upped my Zoloft another 25 mg even though I am soaking the bed in sweat every night because of the low dose I am on now.

Very distracted, driving home, crying a bit, cop standing on side of road with a radar gun.  He got me going rather fast in a 50 kph zone so I was clearly in the wrong and I admit that.  I roll down the window and start crying again and the cop asks if everything is ok.  I reply that I’ve just come from my doctor’s office and am upset.  My partner chimes in that I suffer from depression and I’ve been having a rough time of late. He said he would be very fair and he was.  He reduced the ticket as low as possible and no demerit points.

My partner had to drive home because I was a mess.  I have no coping skills, seems they are broken and I am feeling like I am constantly walking around on egg shells. I almost feel like I am having a hard time looking after myself in a few ways.

Spring Has Sprung

Downy WoodpeckerWhat a difference a few days make.  Spent a great weekend with my partner and today I went out to photograph birds and fill the feeders.  It is just at freezing but a gorgeous sunny day and all the birds are singing.  Spring has sprung and my mood is a lot better this week.  The Cymbalta withdrawal is now behind me and my psychiatrist is back from vacation, I will see him tomorrow.

One of my older friends has decided to quit the rat race and sell everything and move to Florida with his wife– Ugh!!! I wish I could do something like that (see previous post).  For now, I will enjoy this day for tomorrow will probably be a shit show.

Depression Can Be Fatal

Tried so hard last night to get to sleep before my crying jags started up again.  I had taken a Seroquel and was waiting anxiously for it to kick in.  My partner, lying behind me was rubbing my back which made me start to cry again.  It’s so frustrating and embarrassing.  I hate for her to see me this way.  Not just because I feel so ashamed and guilty for acting and feeling this way, but because I hate having her worried about me.

I have been off work for almost a year now.  Money is tight, trips cancelled, grand plans put on hold and its all my fault.  The guilt is becoming so unbearable and I am crying again as I write these words.  I have had depression on and off my whole life but lately it is anxiety that I’ve been treated for.  Now, my depression has come back full force and my psychiatrist does nothing but stare at me while I cry for my weekly 20 minute appointment, then ask if I need any refills.  It’s a real wonder why I’m still here

Decided during my feeling of hopelessness this morning, to call my regular doctor to find out how I can fire my psychiatrist and get a new one as mine is a fucking idiot!  Sorry for that.  Usually I would have to wait months for an appointment but as luck would have it, she was on urgent care tonight (she works in a clinic with other doctors) and there was an appointment available tonight.  I booked it!  I need to gather my thoughts and figure out what I need to bring up with her without dissolving into a puddle of tears, rambling on and on about my issues.

  1. Get a referral to a new psychiatrist.
  2. Discuss my Cymbalta withdrawal problems.
  3. Let her know I am afraid I am deteriorating and my thoughts of suicide.

Took a break from writing this post to go outside and pick up dog poop as it is zero degrees Celsius and sunny (nice for March in Ontario, Canada).  I promised my partner I would go outside today. Things were going well till I couldn’t chisel the poop out of the snow as it has melted down into it.  I usually do this every 2 days or so but in my Cymbalta withdrawal this week, I have left it.  Again, my fault and I began crying.  Tears were rolling down my face as a was getting more and more frustrated at the encapsulated poop just beyond my reach.  I did the only sensible thing and gave up.  What if my neighbour sees me crying, picking up poop.  It’s not the poop, its me!

This is why I need to do something and go see my doctor tonight.  I realized that depression can be fatal.