So, this post has been a long time coming, and I just now accumulated the courage to write it. About a year and a half ago, I wrote a post on the previous blog asking people for advice on insomnia. During that particular weekend, I believe I accrued six hours sleep in total. Proof suggested I try melatonin, and it worked wonders.
Still, something was wrong.
My days were a swirling torrent of stress, panic attacks, and angry outbursts. After one particular outburst directed toward my youngest son, Kevin, I decided I needed to do something about this. I started seeing a therapist. The therapist was very good, and helped me through my main issue at the time. It revolved around my propensity to let everything bottle up inside me, then unleash a negasonic teenage warhead at the first person who looked at me the wrong way…
After a few months, however, my therapist thought I needed to kick up my treatment a notch. BAM!
She suggested a psychiatrist, which I was totally against. I’m not crazy, despite what the voices in my head claim, and I’m certainly not going on medication which would make me drool into a cup. Well, more so. Plus, I was guessing a major metropolitan police department would frown upon one of its members being diagnosed with a mental illness. After much hemming and hawing, I relented and saw the shrink.
After consulting with the psychiatrist and sitting down with me for an hour, she announced her diagnosis. I was suffering from depression.
Yep, there it was; I was officially mentally ill.
I fought the doc on medication, because 1. I didn’t want to accept the fact my brain has malfunctioned, and 2. I didn’t want to use medication as a crutch. Sadly, medication is usually the only way to get past depression, so I agreed to the smallest dose of Zoloft available.
After three months, I returned and told the shrink I was still literally spending full days in bed, crying for no apparent reason, or just avoiding people and society as a whole. The doctor bounced me from 50mg of Zoloft to 100mg, where I am hovering at now. Zoloft usually sets everything right in six months; I am just over a year. Apparently I make George Bailey look like a piker.
Currently, I am without Zoloft – and have been for over a week – because I ran out before the script could be refilled. So I am moodier as ever, and my patience for humans has worn thin. Which brings me to my next point…
You may have noticed yesterday’s May Day post, where I published it without the first few sentences. This just a week after I published the Caption Contest winners, where it said “Top Three Entries” when there were indeed five. In the last few months, my memory has been failing; especially my short-term memory. I have never been shark as a tack when it comes to remembering things, but now it has become concerning… and alarming.
One of the side effects of Zoloft is memory loss, and I brought that up the the psychiatrist last week. She also seemed concerned, and my new script is going to be lowered to 75mg. They want to see if the memory problems have to do with the meds, or something else.
The memory loss alarms me because my mother’s side of the family has a history of Alzheimer’s Disease. I don’t believe I am succumbing to Alzheimer’s at 48, but something is definitely not right. I have seen a neurologist, and there were no serious issues with my tiny brain, but again, something seems wrong.
So why am I telling you all this? First, I want to give you have an explanation of the many mistakes, spelling errors, and rambling paragraphs appearing here lately. Second, I am going to try and focus on my book now, because I’m not sure what my mind will be like in a year or so. Finally, I want you to know if there is a lack of posts, or a large gap between them, it’s because I am spending the day in bed under the covers. It’s not something I enjoy, but I do have those days.
Today will be one of those days. Not because I feel awful, but because since this post reads like a Dickens novel, I want it up for the day.
I don’t like this. I don’t like being mentally ill, I don’t like being forgetful, and I certainly don’t like avoiding things I enjoy. I’m taking the rest of the day off – I’ll respond to any comments, however. Tomorrow will have a full plate of posts.
Thanks for listening.