I've noticed that I have some new readers on the blog as of late, and I want to say thanks for reading, welcome, etc. - this is really the best place to get updated as to what's happening to me these days. But I feel that I need to explain a couple of things that have happened to me in the past year or two that really kind of will explain why I seem to be... well, a lot more sad and negative than I used to be.
In December of 2006, I was tentatively diagnosed with bipolar depression type II (which ultimately turned out to be wrong, but I'll get to that), and I was undergoing therapy and a lot of experimental drug treatments to attempt to get it under control. During this time, I literally do not remember some portions of my life. A lot of medication was tried, a lot didn't agree with me, and during this period of time, while I was able to work, I was literally only doing the bare minimum to get through life. My ability to perform daily activities of living was severely impacted - to the point where I had no energy, I could barely get out of bed, dress myself, feed myself. This was compounded by the fact that I was living alone and refusing nearly all offers of help - I was still under the impression that I had to be totally, 100% independent and never rely on anyone for anything ever again. But unfortunately, I also had the impression that everyone was "out to get me". Paranoia. And it was BAD, really bad. I don't remember a lot of what happened in 2007, to be honest. From what I've been told, I was very suicidal.
It all came to a head last Christmas, when I was admitted to Sheppard Pratt Psychiatric Hospital for a 72 hour stay. Let me tell you something, folks - being in a mental ward is depressing at any time, but... somehow it seems extra bleak and sad at Christmastime. I remember being there this time last year and thinking to myself that I never wanted to leave... that I couldn't make it in "the outside world". Everything that had happened to me in my life was my fault, after all, and if I'd ended up here, I guess I belonged here... right?
During my stay at SP, the doctors finally pinpointed what I have, which is major depressive disorder (or MDD, for short). It's more or less unipolar depression, but it's no less severe than what they thought I had. What's more, I was diagnosed a 50 on the Axis V scale (part of the famous DSM-IV in psychology). Axis V indicates a "global assessment of functioning" scale - in other words, how well you're able to perform ADL's (activities of daily living) without appropriate treatment.
A score of 50 on the Axis V indicates, and I quote, "Severe symptoms (e.g., suicidal ideation, severe obsessional rituals, frequent shoplifting) OR any serious impairment in social, occupational or school functioning (e,g., no friends, unable to keep a job)".
Without treatment, I would never get better, folks. There it is in a nutshell. And so once they diagnosed me properly, I got my current treatment of Paxil and Buspirone. I've been on the Paxil for a long time, and that helped only a little bit, but I still had very bad symptoms. However, the Buspirone has made a huge difference. I got that in early July, and I've never looked back since. Yes, I still have a few bad days - this past week's been really awful for some reason - but I'd rather have the occasional day where I'm sick and suicidal instead of weeks, months at a time.
With that said - I'm not the person that I used to be. I hope I can make that clear to everyone. The last 2 or 3 years have been very hard on me, both mentally and physically - don't ever let anyone tell you that depression doesn't hurt, because it does, it does, it does. I've come to accept that some people can't handle my MDD, and while that hurts a little, the fact is that it's who I am and it's a part of what defines me. And if others can't accept me for who I am and what defines me... well... they don't need to be around me, do they?
I've had this condition, the doctors estimate, since early childhood - at least since the age of four, if not earlier. It explains a huge portion of my life, of my actions, of the choices that I've made in my life. I won't go so far as to blame all of my bad choices on the depression... but with a disorder this large going untreated for this many years... well. I surely think it might have had a hand in some things.
So, don't worry if I seem negative on some days. It's better for me to get it out on the blog than to keep it all inside, which is what I've done for so many years. I still need to learn how to speak out, to tell people what bothers me, to tell people, "Hey, I don't like the things you do - it doesn't mean I don't like you as a person." I still need to learn validation from the inside and not from external sources. I'm trying, every day.
And that's a fuck of a lot better than suicide, yeah? :)
1 comment:
Well, HOORAY for getting help figuring out what was going on! Rob and I had a friend that spent 72 hours at SP, and it helped him a lot. He just got completely overwhelmed by everything going on in his life, and sort of, broke. It absolutely was the best thing for him to do that, and he's done really well.
I'm glad the meds are helping - there is nothing wrong with taking them, as it is no different than someone taking heart medication or getting surgery to fix a problem. We are smarter as humans every year and learn how to help our bodies get back in balance even better all the time. I'm glad I don't live in the Middle Ages, that's for sure.
I'm still going to encourage you to be positive, and fuss with you when you beat yourself up b/c that's what supportive friends do. Thanks for explaining everything, and I'm glad you realized having support is essential to being happy for everyone!
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