My Weird Psychiatrist Makes Me Laugh

Everything went fine yesterday with the psychiatrist. I tried to bring up everything that I mentioned yesterday in my post, although to be honest, my psychiatrist is a little bit of a weirdo (but in a good way), so often what he says kind of throws me for loop and has me wondering “what the heck”? We also often get off subject, and may have spent part of the session talking about “Black Mirror” (the Netflix show), Dante’s Inferno, Fight Club, Josef Mengele, and menstrual cycles (that last one was definitely not my choice of topic lol).

One humorous part of the session consisted of him trying to convince me I should consider having children of my own if able, because I would make a great mom and there are so many “stupid people” procreating that we need more intelligent ones to do so more (his words, not mine). Like I said, he can be an oddball.

We also talked about aspergery stuff, like social deficits I had as a child. When I told him a story about how I got in huge trouble in first grade for laughing at a kid who couldn’t read (because I honestly didn’t understand that something that was so easy for me could be hard for others), he burst out laughing and thought that was hilarious. His reply to that story was, “tell the truth, you just thought that kid was stupid”. Like I said, he sometimes throws me for a loop, but he does make me laugh.

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Psychiatrist Visit Anxiety

Today I see my psychiatrist again. These appointments make me nervous because there is always worry that my meds might get changed and I might have a bad reaction to another one, like I did the Cymbalta. I also often wonder what to share with him. I want to be as honest and open as possible, so I get the best treatment, but I also sometimes have a tendency to overshare or over-explain things that might not be pertinent.

I figure the things that I should share with him most this visit are my “episodes” of rage and paranoia the past couple months, even though they only lasted a few days to a week each. I have actually had a couple “episodes” of feeling almost hopeful and optimistic recently, so that is good I think. It was really odd that during one of these times of having at least a few days in a row of feeling pretty good, I had one of the worst days I have had in a while, where I was so horribly depressed and so full of despair that I sat on the couch holding a bottle of pills and wishing I could take them all and maybe not have to wake up again, but of course, I know that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Especially to my husband. Oddly enough, the very next day I was back to feeling fairly decent overall.

I also always wonder how much to address my physical problems with the psychiatrist. After all, he isn’t a doctor who treats those conditions, but those conditions greatly affect my depression and anxiety levels. When the physical pain is extremely bad for a few days in a row, that tends to bring on a kind of despair that is hard to cope with. It blackens my view of my entire future and makes me honestly feel sometimes that life isn’t worth living if you have to be in this kind of pain. I probably should take my Tramadol (opioid pain killers) more during those times, but I am afraid of becoming dependent on it if I take it too often.

Well, thank you for listening to me overthink things as I always do lol.

My Future Fund (supported by art and book sales!)

Recently I have been having quite a bit of success selling my artwork and I am so thankful! It means the world to me to know that people love my art and want to support my creative efforts! I do have something special I am doing with the proceeds I get from my art and I wanted to share that, so that if you are purchasing my art, you will know how you are helping me in multiple ways.

As many of you know if you follow my blog regularly, due to worsening chronic mental and physical health conditions, it has been hard for me to work outside the home for a while. I am hoping to get my SSDI benefits at some point in the future, but it can take years for that to happen due to backlog. I in no way feel bad for going after these benefits since they are not charity or welfare, but instead are the very benefits I paid into for years. I think it is ridiculous how long many of us have to wait to get a real person to make a decision for benefits we worked hard for over many years.

Due to my trouble working, I constantly fear that were something to happen to my husband, I would eventually end up homeless once the little bit of life insurance ran out. It is a terrifying thought that haunts me every single day. I am not guaranteed eventual approval of my SSDI claim, nor do I have any way to know for sure when I will find out since I am still waiting for a hearing date to even be scheduled.

So, I figured that instead of simply living in fear every single day without taking any real action to plan for the future, that I could take small steps to try to do what I can to provide any measure of security for myself. I have decided to start saving every bit of money I get from my art sales and book sales, to hopefully help build a nest egg to provide a little extra help if someday I need it. I have also been adding extra cash here and there that I manage to save to the “future fund”.

Bronchitis Update

I wanted to give a quick update on my health situation since so many of you commented on yesterday’s post about coughing up blood. Thank you to all of you who sent your thoughts and prayers. I did end up going to Urgent Care, where they did a chest x-ray and came to the conclusion it was bronchitis. So I’m on antibiotics yet again (the third time in the last few months).

Coughing Up Blood

I’m a little freaked out today. I’ve had a chronic cough for years, which we have always contributed to sinusitis and my chronic sinus infections. But today for the first time, I actually coughed up blood. I’m not sure if I should go to Urgent Care or if it is really that big of a deal. I may have to contact my doctor to see what she thinks. My chest hurts too, which concerns me even a little bit more. So needless to say, I’m not up for writing a long post today.

The Most Humiliating Experience of My Life

Today I’m doing something rare for me…two posts in one day! I didn’t plan to post this second entry today, but I feel compelled to do so and get something off my chest that I’m tired of hiding. For a long time I debated whether to tell my real story or not, because even when our family hurts us, we still feel a need to protect them.

So this post is about the most humiliating and potentially traumatic experience of my life. It happened when I was 15 years old. At that point I had already endured a rough childhood of turmoil, including being surrounded by and sometimes the target of verbal, mental and physical abuse, my parents’ constant instability in relationships, and the death of my father when I was 12. So, I was already pretty banged up emotionally and mentally. Not to mention the fact that I had undiagnosed high-functioning autism, which made it really hard for me to find my place in the world or understand it.

Anyhow, when I was 15, a boy who was I had been school friends with for years started showing interest in dating me. He was two grades ahead of me and 17 years old at the time. I agreed, but wasn’t sure if I really wanted to date or just be friends. So, I did bring him to my house a few times to hang out with him. In the end, I decided I just wanted to be friends and we decided not to date. Ironically enough (as you shall soon see), my mother actually helped me officially “break up” with him. We never kissed or anything like that, but the kids at school thought we were together and he was technically the first boy I ever “brought home”.

So after deciding to just be friends, I thought life would just go back to normal. But I was wrong. My mom started acting sort of weird. She was sneaking around having mysterious phone conversations and I even once caught her hiding outside, smoking, something I had NEVER seen her do before! I knew something was up, so one night I quietly picked up an extra phone extension to see who it was she was talking with at night. I was shocked to hear her and the guy I had been “dating” exchanging “I love you’s”. I confronted her after the call and she admitted to being in a relationship with him. I was angry, humiliated, shocked, and sickened.

After that, she quit hiding it and started taking off on dates with him pretty much every night, leaving me all alone night after night after night, or even dumping me off on random people so they could go away for days at a time. Before long, she moved him in and I had to live with them. By this time, everyone at school knew that he was dating my mother, which brought me a lot of uncomfortable questions about the situation, since they had all thought I had dated him. I even overheard teachers talking about my mom and the boy. Everyone treated me like my family was insane, and I felt like they had a right to do so because we WERE insane. It felt like Jerry Springer type stuff.

One of the most hurtful incidents I remember during this whole time was when I got into a fight with my mom’s new boyfriend. It was just a verbal fight, but I made him so mad with what I said that he punched me. I was so hurt by this that I jumped on my bike and rode away, even with my mom yelling after me to stop. Eventually I came back home, and instead of making him apologize to me for hitting me, my mom threatened to send me away to live with relatives. At this point, I felt like I was nothing and no one wanted me.

My mom married this boy the very day he turned 18. So I was going to the same school with my new “step-father”. Even though school had always been a refuge for me in the past, now it felt like torture every single day. I started skipping constantly and barely ended up graduating in the end because of all of it. When I was 16 we moved to another state and I went to a new school, but the feeling of shame followed me and I had given up on caring about school or about anything else. I was soon diagnosed with depression for the first time (not surprisingly!)

To this day I still hold a lot of resentment, anger, feelings of betrayal, and embarrassment about the whole thing. I have a relationship with my mother, but it is precarious and not the most trusting.

The Spice Girls of Depression

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Last night my back pain got so bad that I may have accidentally overdosed on muscle relaxers. I was thinking my prescription allowed me to take up to 3 muscle relaxers at a time, but I was wrong, apparently it was only 2 at a time…and I took 4. I’m not sure if there is actually much danger in that, but I probably should be more careful.

Yesterday was also a horrible depression day for me. I think the combination of physical pain and the despair I feel sometimes about the seeming meaninglessness of life makes for a perfect storm. It probably didn’t help that I attended a group early in the day that talked about the sometimes apparent pointlessness of life when you are agnostic or atheist.

So, last night I was watching YouTube videos (trying to distract myself from the depression) when I watched a video about the 20th anniversary of the Spice Girls. While I was watching it, I started thinking that my depression is kind of like the extremely popular but somewhat annoying 90’s girl group. Instead of Sporty, Posh, Baby, Scary, and Ginger Spice, I have Paranoid Spice, Anxious Spice, Angry Spice, Sad Spice, and Hopeless Spice living in my head. Thinking about all these emotions personified in ridiculously dressed, cheesy girl group images did make me chuckle a bit. Imagine those dance routines!