I should probably properly update: I’m doing better than I was a month ago. The End.
No, I changed a bunch of meds to try to even myself out. I asked alot of questions to my psych about what the end goal is for taking all the meds (it seems like I am on the maximum dosages of the maximum variety of psych meds one can take) and how does he decide what I should be on and how am I supposed to feel – just, like, • barely above wanting-to-die or • something greater or • feeling like getting out of bed and IS there a realistic possibility of me reaching a point where Life doesn’t suck so hard that I could even appreciate a moment of being “Furiously Happy” (to quote Jenny Lawson)?
His response was that those are tough questions to answer and that the meds are there to help regulate your moods.
So I felt a little discouraged by that (okay, alot discouraged) because honestly I was hoping for some all-powerful answer full of other-worldly knowledge that would bring me instant peace and end my suffering once and for all. (Okay, so I admit my expectations were a tad over-the-top.)
Still, I left the office with more scripts in my hand and yet another chip added to my shoulder. This shit just always seems to get worse before it gets better. And that’s the hardest pill to swallow. (clee-shay alert)
I guess I was just hoping for a little hope. Some sign that things will get better. At least I can say I’m lucky to have a good support system. That’s more than alot of people can say, and I really am grateful for that.
I gotta wake up soon and start my motherly duties. Damn it – I hate it when I finally get tired at the exact moment it’s time to get up…