Damned if you do and Damned if you don't

I missed posting yesterday. I have been in the middle of a medication change and what started out as "Amazeballs," quickly turned into a pumpkin at the end of it's six-hour shift. The cut off on this medication was awful, and happened at my normal tough time of day on top of that. I took it the next day and wasn't feeling right. Heightened anxiety and then the cut off again. I got in touch with my doc the third day and he told me to quarter it. I tried that and felt nothing but agitation and frustration. I ended up in bed at 6:30 and woke up this morning at 11:30 a.m. with the headache from hell that is still with me. I took a half pill today and feeling meh. The headache is so stubborn, even Aleeve hasn't  touched it. Hence the rigamarole of figuring out a new med dosage, one of my most dreaded things to do in the whole wide fucking world.

The reason med changes are so difficult for me, and I am sure for almost everyone else that is looking for medication therapy, is that it's a guessing game. I am a test dummy. Take this, cut a little, add a little, tweak here, add something for the side effect of that, tweak and raise and lower again. It is TORTURE! I have been doing this for too many years. Last year I swore I would be off PHARMA meds and onto natural therapies by this coming summer. After the winter from hell I was desperate for help and went to a new Psychiatrist. 

This not only effects me, it effects my family because I am unpredictable. I usually have to lay down and I can't always take part in family fun because I am too anxious or have a pounding head ache or am on sensory overload. 

Depression and anxiety have robbed me, and my family of so many good times. So many so-so times and just plain time. I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired. I know writers should avoid cliches but it fits so well.

I know I need help. If I didn't get help when I first melted down I would NEVER have lived to see today. I accept that I am someone who may always need help off and on. 

It gets exhausting. It gets old. It gets aggravating and frustrating and down right makes me despise my illness, and sometimes me.

In 2012 I was hospitalized and the doctor just didn't think traditional medicine was working for me so he recommended ECT. For those of you who don't know the acronym it stands for Electric Shock Therapy. I was mortified. My husband was more so than I was, and we were both scared. I saw those people in the morning waiting for their breakfast tray, sitting in a wheel chair looking like, well, looking like they just got electrocuted! I did NOT want to be one of them. 

My husband came into the hospital and we watched a video on the treatment and how far it has come today and how it isn't as barbaric. We were almost convinced, but something inside me said no.

I did pretty well on meds, not 100% but well enough. I made it through the deaths of my Mother, Brother and my beloved cat and did not end up back in the hospital. I belong to a bereavement group, yoga and a group at my daughters school as well as therapy. I have definitely had my days where I felt I needed to go back to the hospital, that I couldn't take it any more, but I got through it with some coping mechanisms and support. It wasn't pretty and my heart breaks for what we have all endured, but we got through it.

I have NO idea if this med will work. If when Springtime comes and I decide to try something more natural. I don't know. I just know I want to live and I don't want to have to work so hard to get through the days. I want to function and create and enjoy my family and be able to be a part of their lives on a consistent basis rather than basing my social life on how I am going to feel that day. 

I would not wish this on my worst enemy. Sometimes it's tolerable and I can live with it, but when it comes to trying to figure out meds I feel frightened and somewhat out of control and very conflicted as to whether I should have started the endeavor or not. Is it fair to any of the people in my life, including myself. 

It feels like there are certain times in my life with my illness that no matter what I do I am damned if I do, and damned if I don't.


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