Another Failure
Another failed medication trial...and the list of failed treatments and meds grows to 25 plus meds, ECT, years and years of therapy...argh! My husband has been raging mad at me. Thinks all I need to do is "stop worrying so much", or, "just stop thinking about your depression"..."The medications make you worse", "You have never been as depressed as you have been these past 5 years since you started to take the medications".
I am so depressed I do not have the fight in me to argue these points anymore. When he starts his anti-med, ant-psychiatry rant I feel intense rage inside, like I am going to explode into a million pieces. I feel intensely criticized and in turn guilty for not being able to get better. Does he really believe I would remain so depressed if all I needed to do was "stop thinking about it"?
He fails to comprehend the extent to which depression takes over my mind. For weeks now I have been plagued by extreme suicidal ideation. Feeling unable to keep trying I set up extravagantly detailed plans on how I could go in the least painful way possible, but ensure total success. Then I begin to rage at how unfair it is that I feel so sad and my plans become more violent in nature...aimed at punishing and killing myself in the most violent ways possible.
I am stuck here though because I cannot do this to my family. Having the thoughts over and over and over, but being unable to act on them is like being stuck in hell. I want so bad to go, but know I never will be able too. I wish there was a switch to shut off my thoughts when the ideation starts.
I feel ashamed at having all these s. thoughts...and while I discuss them with my pdoc I leave out details because I feel like I am being so childish and weak. I feel I should be able to stop these thoughts, to overcome my depression, to get back to work, to get out and choose to live.
I do not understand how I went from an intelligent, vivacious, life loving person, with a promising future...to someone who is unable to work, lucky I can get out of bed and out of my p.j.'s many days, and so tired, fatigued, anxious, irritable, depressed all the time that I am unable to do much of anything anymore.
While arguing about my depression getting worse my husband started to talk to me about separating the other day. He sounded very serious. While I have brought the subject up before, because I am certain his constant criticisms of me and my psychiatric treatments have got to have a negative impact on my ability to get well, this was the first time he ever brought the subject up.
I felt distraught and spent all night thinking about how I was going to have to live in my van. Visualizing being cut of disability insurance, having no money, having nowhere to live...I could see myself ending up on the street. Everyone tells me these thoughts are irrational. I do not feel that way though.
I feel like the possibility of a descent into homelessness is simply a matter of degrees. All it would take is a loss of income, or such a small disability income that one could not afford to live and a loss of a sense of interpersonal support (just like how when I am depressed I isolate myself, but also feel isolated from everyone too). When I severely depressed and isolated I do not reach out or ask for help. When I am severely depressed I cannot see viable solutions to these kinds of predicaments.
Anyways...I'm here, not living in my van yet (at least I have a van to live in..ha, ha) and I'm going off the last of 3 meds in my latest combo...I suppose preparing to try something new. Please let the next medication work!!!
I am so depressed I do not have the fight in me to argue these points anymore. When he starts his anti-med, ant-psychiatry rant I feel intense rage inside, like I am going to explode into a million pieces. I feel intensely criticized and in turn guilty for not being able to get better. Does he really believe I would remain so depressed if all I needed to do was "stop thinking about it"?
He fails to comprehend the extent to which depression takes over my mind. For weeks now I have been plagued by extreme suicidal ideation. Feeling unable to keep trying I set up extravagantly detailed plans on how I could go in the least painful way possible, but ensure total success. Then I begin to rage at how unfair it is that I feel so sad and my plans become more violent in nature...aimed at punishing and killing myself in the most violent ways possible.
I am stuck here though because I cannot do this to my family. Having the thoughts over and over and over, but being unable to act on them is like being stuck in hell. I want so bad to go, but know I never will be able too. I wish there was a switch to shut off my thoughts when the ideation starts.
I feel ashamed at having all these s. thoughts...and while I discuss them with my pdoc I leave out details because I feel like I am being so childish and weak. I feel I should be able to stop these thoughts, to overcome my depression, to get back to work, to get out and choose to live.
I do not understand how I went from an intelligent, vivacious, life loving person, with a promising future...to someone who is unable to work, lucky I can get out of bed and out of my p.j.'s many days, and so tired, fatigued, anxious, irritable, depressed all the time that I am unable to do much of anything anymore.
While arguing about my depression getting worse my husband started to talk to me about separating the other day. He sounded very serious. While I have brought the subject up before, because I am certain his constant criticisms of me and my psychiatric treatments have got to have a negative impact on my ability to get well, this was the first time he ever brought the subject up.
I felt distraught and spent all night thinking about how I was going to have to live in my van. Visualizing being cut of disability insurance, having no money, having nowhere to live...I could see myself ending up on the street. Everyone tells me these thoughts are irrational. I do not feel that way though.
I feel like the possibility of a descent into homelessness is simply a matter of degrees. All it would take is a loss of income, or such a small disability income that one could not afford to live and a loss of a sense of interpersonal support (just like how when I am depressed I isolate myself, but also feel isolated from everyone too). When I severely depressed and isolated I do not reach out or ask for help. When I am severely depressed I cannot see viable solutions to these kinds of predicaments.
Anyways...I'm here, not living in my van yet (at least I have a van to live in..ha, ha) and I'm going off the last of 3 meds in my latest combo...I suppose preparing to try something new. Please let the next medication work!!!