I am a wreck.
I have never been a shining example of mental health, but it’s been getting worse. The past year or two, I’ve just been unable to function. I can’t concentrate, can’t sit still, can’t get things done, have low impulse control and bad mood swings.
December or so my psychiatrist decided that my medication had stopped working. Apparently the brain is a very stupid organ, and if you are trying to correct a serotonin deficit by taking in massive amounts of serotonin, it will sometimes try to get back to the miserable default by just ignoring the drugs. I am getting really angry about this stupid broken way of doing things. I am getting angry at a lot of things, even when there is no immediate irritation in front of me to get angry about. I took a sociology course last spring and can get myself worked up into a frothing lather over the unfairness of gender roles around the world.
I dropped my courses, dropped my life, took an indefinite medical leave from college. Then I went home to gradually stop the Zoloft, and start something else, and hide away in the basement until I was ready to go out in public. I have been out in public a few times, at the dentist or at a restaurant, and I can hold myself reasonably together for short periods of time. On the outside, at least. On the inside I’m still panicking over nothing and going crazy trying to sit still, but I can make it look like I’m coping. The waiting is the worst part.
I’ve been spending all my time reading books or going on the computer. As there is a limited number of books I can acquire at once, it’s mostly the computer. You might say that the Internet is no place for someone with a mood disorder, and you would be perfectly right. But what else can I do with myself. The Internet helps me not think about things, at least until some jerk on that MMPORPG decides to kill my character just as she was about to finish the quest and now she has to start all over again tomorrow and WHAT DID YOU HAVE TO DO THAT FOR, YOU MORON?!? I’m afraid I have made a fool of myself several times over on the game’s message board. I’ve tried to tone my questions down, and I haven’t started another thread called “What in the name of everloving eff does this error message mean?”, but somehow the rage keeps coming through. The fact that my computer’s everything-connection is going to helsinki is not helping. My father built the hardware himself, it’s supposed to be better than any of the “planned obsolescence” mass-produced junk, but somehow it’s my computer that’s all fusterclucked. It’s either the M,I,S!-hating gremlins holding a demolition derby, or else the computer’s going on a solidarity medical leave.
Other people don’t help. Everyone’s computers AND my brothers’ video games are down in the basement. I have to listen in on all their idiot blather and violent arguments and my youngest brother expressing his disappointment with his game controls by screaming every dirty word and random sexual reference he knows. He knows he’s driving us all crazy, which is why he does it. And the other brother is right next to me, and I’m having trouble with my self-control, and I am not sure what is worse- when he’s driving me nuts, or when he isn’t driving me nuts because I’m scaring him.
Today I went back to the doctor, who listened about the crying fits and the violent fits and the insomnia and the everything else, and he came to the conclusion that maybe the Zoloft had still been doing something for me after all. So he’s going to put me on Zoloft’s first cousin, Prozac, and see if that one can sneak by my stupid serotonin regulators.
So… maybe it will help, maybe? Possibly? I hate this.
P.S. What I really is hate is that just when I’m trying to post this stupid thing the hamsters have shut down for maintenance. The universe hates me. gives finger to universe