The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board
Trivial Pursuits => People & Places => Topic started by: side_show on August 07, 2007, 03:41:00 pm
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Folks, I've got hella depression. Probably worse than ever before in my life. I had the SO take me to the hospital on Friday as I'd completely fallen apart. We were there from 6:30 pm - 12:30 am. These are bad times for me. There's no major inciting incident here, just the weight of my bullshit family situation and my lack of ability to cope with it. The stark contrast between my successful life and my damaged core is the demon I'm wrestling with. I'm currently awaiting my referral to a psychiatrist. I'm terrified to confront the backlog of pain, but hopeful for healing. I am pretty adverse to taking medications, am worried about them changing me, dulling me, etc. On the flip side, I'm pretty sure that I don't care anymore. I'm not really coping and am actually scared for myself, so I suppose if being doped-up is my only shot at survival I'll take it over not surviving.
Anyone else here in therapy and/or on antidepressants? Any suggestions?
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Posting this is probably a copyright violation, but the hell with it.
Coping Outside the Box
Antidepressants Don't Kill The Pain, but They Can Be a Huge Relief
By Laura Zigman
Special to The Washington Post
Tuesday, July 10, 2007; Page HE01
Everyone has a moment in time that divides his or her life into "before" and "after." For me that moment was 10 years ago, when I was 34. I had just left New York and moved to Washington -- trading my soul-deadening career and size-0 studio apartment for a 9-to-5 job and a big one-bedroom overlooking Rock Creek Park and the zoo, trading my no-life life for an actual life, not to put too fine a point on it, and feeling really good about it -- when depression struck. Again. The way it had repeatedly since second grade.
It was then that I finally realized that I would never be able to outrun myself; wherever I went, wherever I moved, however stealthily I tried to sneak away, I would always bring myself with me. And at the thought of that -- at the thought of a life sentence with chronic clinical depression as my cellmate and no chance of parole -- I finally knew the jig was up.
Uncle, I cried at long last. Give me the meds.
Describing what depression feels like is a little like trying to describe what chocolate tastes like or what classical music sounds like or what red looks like. But for me, being depressed was like being inside a sealed glass box right in the middle of a big huge party: I could see out and people could see in, but that's about as far as it went.
For most of my life I knew what I was missing out on -- everything -- and even though much of the time I was too depressed to care, every once in a while my heart would leap like a normal person's and I would grasp, in the flash of an instant, that my life was passing me by. Those times my spirit would float up to the ceiling and look down at myself pushing against the glass walls of my box like a frantic mime. But, like every other trapped mime in the history of the world, I could never find my way out.
Caving in after a lifetime of refusing to "take the easy way out" was difficult. I had always been against medication in the treatment of depression -- for myself, not for others. My father had been depressed most of my life, and the Valium he'd taken during my childhood only seemed to make things worse. Even though I knew as an adult that it was stupid to prescribe a depressant to a depressive and that the newer generation of antidepressant drugs was much more effective, giving in to them still seemed somehow like cheating.
After I'd gotten past the initial wave of feeling like a failure -- a failure at traditional psychotherapy, a failure at coping, a failure at life (take your pick!) -- I had other concerns. This was the mid-1990s, and every other week a big article or a big book about antidepressants appeared, reporting on the various side effects of psycho-pharmaceuticals. Given my luck -- which is to say, given my propensity for bad luck, like being born with a ridiculously disproportionate amount of negativity -- I assumed that I would get none of the drugs' positive effects and all of their bad side effects. But even if they just worked a little, maybe the frantic mime inside me would stop pounding pathetically on the glass and start feeling around for an exit door.
Once I'd started taking the drugs, the mime inside me did more than that: It not only found the door and opened it -- it also ditched the white face and black jazz shoes on the way out. Within days, a lifetime of television-screen static and indecision and muteness lifted and was replaced by a focused clarity. Within weeks a new mental energy and ability to concentrate for long periods appeared. Before I knew it, I was able to whip through a week's to-do list in a single morning, make decisions without agonizing analysis-paralysis, and project myself into the future. My sock drawer and closets were organized, and my big black bag weighed half as much, now that several pounds of ATM receipts, shoes and loose tobacco had been removed. And I even finished rewriting the novel I'd been working on for five years.
And that was only after the first three refills.
Like any relationship, my partnership with medication these past 10 years has had its ups and downs. I've tried a few drugs that worked and a few drugs that didn't; I've gone off them a few times and suffered such severe withdrawal symptoms I feel I have some understanding of heroin addiction; and I've gone back on them every time because for me there is no question that I am happier -- or less unhappy, depending on whether I'm in a half-full or half-empty kind of mood -- when I am on medication.
And despite the life-altering effect they've had on me, I accept that antidepressants can go only so far: I still hate going to parties, I still feel fat most of my waking hours, and I still worry that one day the sadness will come back and I won't be able to get out of bed. Just like going through childbirth with an epidural or dental surgery with a local anesthetic, there is still plenty of pain left over even with the drugs.
Which is a good thing. I still like to go back and visit my glass box once in a while, to remember what it used to be like.
Or maybe that's just the medication talking. ·
Laura Zigman is the author of "Animal Husbandry" and "Piece of Work." Comments:health@washpost.com.
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Anti-depressants saved my life. I suggest checking out crazymeds.org for the full scoop.
Also: Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel will assure you you're not alone.
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Never done it, but I've had family members who have, and kudos to you for getting help.
It's a hard choice, but it sounds like at least at this point for you it's better than the alternative.
Godspeed. I think I speak for everyone when I say we're all here for you.
Then again, we're imaginary anyway, so where are we going to go?
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Avoid Elavil. It's side effects are being an addictive sleeping pill and large weight gain, especially in the first 2 months.
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This is all very good stuff. Please keep it coming.
I have moved from "maybe I'll go back to bed" to "fuck this, I'm ordering sushi for lunch!"
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I hope that the psychiatrist can help you. It is as simple as that.
Um, as a psych student all I can say is that psychopharmacology has come a long way from the old days when meds were such as trying to break open a small oyster with a sledgehammer. Now they have all kinds of precision things which I don't understand. All I have gleaned from my reading on the subject is not to give up if the first thing you try doesn't work-- or if it works at first and then stops working. The way these things effect your body is really different depending on your metabolism and such.
I know it doesn't help any, but I think you are really great. You are utterly rad, even though my friends refuse to believe that I know an awesome Winnipegian playwright.
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I['m in therapy, and I'd recommend it for basically everyone. Of course, I'm pretty seriously scrambled, but there you are. I've never actually been prescribed anything, but I've obviously self-medicated to varying degrees of success. I'd think having a doctor involved would probably up the chances of things working out correctly.
Also, I dig you. So you've got that, for whatever it's worth.
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Anti-depressants saved my life. I suggest checking out crazymeds.org for the full scoop.
Also: Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel will assure you you're not alone.
Damn, A-CAP. Just when I think you and I have zero in common, you bust something out that's can-worthy.
I had severe problems with depression back in the day, and Jerod over at Crazymeds.org is the best. My particular combo was prozac, lamictal, and seroquel because I was jumping out of my skin and couldn't sleep. However, it took the doctors a while to figure out the right combination. After I stabilized, I felt so much better and I was able to actually do stuff instead of being paralyzed by anhedonia or sobbing myself into another panic attack.
Even if you "just" have unipolar depression, get a mood chart and fill it in every day (http://www.lamictal.com/bipolar/patients/mood_chart.html). Make sure you keep detailed notes on side effects if they are bothering you. If a med isn't working, tell your doctor, and if you're having REALLY bad side effects then tell them you have to stop that med. Also see a real psychiatrist and not just a family practitioner. I tried taking a ridiculous cocktail of meds that were prescribed first by my family doctor, and then by this nurse practitioner who was also a psychologist, and I think that's what made my Problems so fuck*ng exacerbated. If you have really bad side effects, like when I was taking Wellbutrin and blacked out at the wheel, and the fuck*ng PA told me to keep taking the meds? Yeah, fuck you.
They rotated me through a metric shit ton of medication. Just hang in there until they find the right combination. I was given: Wellbutrin, Zoloft, Paxil, Klonopin, Serzone, and some others that I can't even remember.
Also...if you ever need to talk I am totally here for you. We love you, smells, and we want you to feel better.
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Holy hell, that is a lot of med's to go through. You must be tough as nails to have gone through all that. It kind of makes me teeter a bit, because I can't imagine myself, in the state I'm in now, having the strength to work through all that.
I am absolutely going through a psychiatrist for treatment. Our family doctor perscibed a lot of random psych med's to both my mom and dad without ever pushing them to get the help they so clearly need, or intervening when it should have been clear that I was dealing with some out of controle situations no kid should be faced with, so he's absolutely not welcome to get involved in my situation now. I've got major issues with learned behaviors and having grown up with no example of how to be happy or how to function in a healthy relationship. I really, really need to learn to recognize healthy vs unhealthy behavior patterns... all this shit a smarty ##### like me should know already. I've got all the shit I wanted for a healthy, happy life, and no fuckin' idea what to do with it now that I've got it, hence my meltdown.
Wombat - that article is the main reason why I'm not in bed, in a puddle of tears, so thanks for that.
Nabu - did you have trouble finding a good therapist, or was it a hit with the first person you saw? I'm really worried about opening up to someone, then finding they're a total ass and having to start all over again.
A-CAP - calling the med's a temporary aide gives me a lot of hope. I'm specifically hoping to see a psychiatrist seen by a friend of mine who has recently been taken off her med's. I have positive feelings about a therapist who doesn't believe require life-long medication if it's not deemed necessary. Also I'm glad your guinea pig is helping you. My cats have totally ignored me, which is a surprise because usually they're really clingy when I'm down or ill.
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It was pretty easy for me to find a therapist, but that was probably because I was looking for someone who dealt with imago therapy, so I knew going in that they were going to be structured toward and working on the specific things I wanted to focus on.
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Wombat - that article is the main reason why I'm not in bed, in a puddle of tears, so thanks for that.
I am glad to hear it. And thanks for letting me know, as I am having a moderately craptacular time myself lately and it is nice to feel I have accomplished something or helped someone in some small way.
I sent that article to a friend of mine who was considering going on meds. Her therapist decided that I was a good friend because I'd sent her an article that was NOT anti-medication. I guess that means that that's a common reaction, so I am glad you're getting all this support. Even if it is from imaginary people.
From my second-hand experience it may take a few tries to find a therapist who's right for you, so don't get discouraged.
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Best wishes to you Smells. I've been there, done that and know how bad it hurts. In each of my three bouts with the big D, medication has helped. If it doesn't help or if it "dulls" you, you can always quit and try something else.
Not a big surprise that there are quite a few Beefs around these parts. Know that you have a quite a few imaginary internet friends out here sympathizing and pulling for you.
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Brazilians of "Huuugs" from this side of the world. It's rough, but your internal Roast Beef can be put in check.
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Holy hell, that is a lot of med's to go through. You must be tough as nails to have gone through all that. It kind of makes me teeter a bit, because I can't imagine myself, in the state I'm in now, having the strength to work through all that.
Crap, I did not mean to try to overwhelm you!! I'm sorry. The article that wombat linked is awesome. I had a similar experience once I finally got on the lamictal/seroquel and life started to turn around for me.
I guess my point is that I went through a lot of unnecessary bullshit because I had an HMO and had to go through my family doctor. Going to a real psychiatrist right off the bat would have gotten me on the right mix of meds a LOT sooner.
Basically, the meds will help stabilize you and will make the therapy work a lot easier.
Also, Nabu...imago is awesome. I'm glad to hear that is working for you.
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I do not have the depression but I do have the anxiety, hardcore, and though they are different, they are treated with some of the same medicines and are somewhat related in their underlying biological causes and...
The medicine has helped me, it's all I can say.
Doesn't help me all the way but the big attacks don't happen anymore... and the small ones aren't nearly as bad and don't last nearly as long.
Now, do you need a good doctor who's actually paying attention to what you're struggling with and actually knows all the new medicines and stuff?
Sure. My first head doctor misdiagnosed me AS having the depression and as such it only helped me partway until I got a better head doctor.
But there's hope, kid.
There's hope and you deserve access to it because you are a good person.
You are a good and quality imaginary internet person.
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Another of the walking wounded chiming in. I struggled along for 5 years with gradually deepening anxiety disorders that eventually collapsed into fully fledged major-D once I graduated college. Although my family is medical, its also Irish - so identifying and admitting a mental problem was deeply taboo. I finally got some initial help when my family practitioner referred me to a heart specialist (!) for tachycardia. They stuck a Holter monitor on me for a week, during which I ran through my daily hours of night terrors and panic attacks. When the cardiologist reviewed the data and ran some sort of ultrasound test, he diagnosed a slight mitral valve prolapse and gave me some literature about the association of that condition with depression. He referred me to a psychiatrist, and told me not to worry about my heart.
My family was more understanding than I gave them credit for (although we still rarely discuss that period in my life - and only then with evident communal discomfort). My doc diagnosed major depression secondary to panic disorder. She treated me with Zoloft (which has an anti-obsessive action in addition to its anti-depressive payload) and Ativan for breakthrough attacks. It took about 6 weeks for the depression to lift (although I was feeling somewhat better after 2 weeks) and 6 months for me to feel like myself, which was something of a novel experience after, literally, 6 years of downward spiral. Now, 13 years later I'm still taking a small dose of Zoloft to control the panic disorder, but I've never had a depression relapse. I keep the Ativan prescription current, but don't take any for the most part, unless I have a night terror (usually related to stress).
My story is something of a counter to Linnea's experience - the doc got the drug right on the first crack (it sounds like we actually had similar conditions otherwise!). It didn't dumb me down, zone me out, or prevent me from experiencing life's normal highs and lows (shitty stuff still sucks in my world). We've tried backing off the Zoloft a couple times, but the panic disorder still seems to be burned into my neural circuits. After a few weeks, the nightmares start and recede once I resume a small dose. I otherwise keep myself fit, train in martial arts for relaxation, and try to keep my life together so stress doesn't get overwhelming. On the other hand, I've been wanting to give the therapy thing a whirl, as I do have issues - so maybe then I could drop the meds entirely. It annoys my libertarian tendencies to be dependent on anything.
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Chiming in for more imaginary hugs.
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I really hope this works out for you.
I tried Prozac once and it made me paranoid. Now I have a prescription for Effexor that I got a few weeks ago but it turned out that the cheapest generic would cost me $300/month which is $300/month more than I have incoming starting this month. I called and left a message asking if there was something else I could be prescribed with a cheap generic equivalent but the place hasn't called me back. I have another appointment at the same place but it's with someone else so I don't even know how that will go down since I was unable to buy the drug I was prescribed or an equivalent.
Anyway my sister had the braincrumple about as bad as I do for a while and now she's all teaching English in France and Korea and getting articles published in magazines and so forth, so it can work out. I don't mean to get you down with what I'm saying about my thing, is the point.
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As a pharmacy student, I can attest to the fact that anti-depressants are effective. The only downside with them is that they can make it very difficult to reach orgasm if not impossible when the drug is at it's peak effect. I've come across a few of them in my travels and have tried some myself to see what they were about, and they've all been quality drugs.
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Damn all y'all are crazy.
Seriously Melanie, I feel for you. I want you to feel better because you are a great person and I love you.
Re: Medications. I have mixed feelings. Having never taken any medications of this type myself I can't comment from personal experience. My brother however is bi polar manic depressive. Before medication full of inner turmoil, but outwardly appearing fine with random bouts of total insanity. After medication, he's become zombified. He sleeps about 14-16 hours a day and doesn't do a whole lot of anything other than watch sports at my parents house where he now lives. Before medication, had a job and a wife. After, on social security disability, divorced, lives with my parents. Before medication, hated the world and everything in it. After, doesn't seem to care about anything. Obviously there should be a happy medium. I've spoken with my Mother about this, but she says he is satisfied with his treatment.
I hope you get all the help you need and come on strong. We are praying for you.
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The only downside with them is that they can make it very difficult to reach orgasm if not impossible when the drug is at it's peak effect.
On the plus side, this turns a fellow into a stallion of admirable endurance. At the very worst though, sex becomes a friendly full-body workout. Which is still pretty good. Also, it encourages diversification.
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Anybody else hear about the study that found that ketamine has an almost immediate anti-depressant effect? I think I heard something on NPR about it last week. As opposed to the weeks and weeks that SSRIs can take, ketamine seems to have a measurable effect very quickly. They aren't developing it for use as an anti-depressant because of the abuse potential, but are studying it to see if they can determine how it works.
What we need more of...
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On the plus side, this turns a fellow into a stallion of admirable endurance. At the very worst though, sex becomes a friendly full-body workout. Which is still pretty good. Also, it encourages diversification.
For a long time I had problems with a crippled sexual drive. As Jerod (http://www.crazymeds.org) puts it, I couldn't get it up with a forklift. Such as it is when you have brain cooties. (Edit: I think the crazymeds site is down for now, but it should be back up) For me I think my utter disinterest in sex was related to feeling utterly overwhelmed and other fallout from Depression. If your basic needs from Maslow's hierarchy ain't gettin' met, you're going to have a hard time focusing on activities that fall outside Basic Survival.
The zero-sex-drive and delayed orgasm stuff really bothered me (e.g., my crap dude ex-fiance went down on me for about 50-60 minutes and I had high hopes, but frustratingly enough I could not get mine. Sadly, I told him it wasn't gonna happen. Guy was a douche but damn, he was gifted in that department), but now I am back to normal. Normalcy happened for me once I got stabilized on the meds -- the sexual side effects were still bothering me so I started taking EFA Capsules (salmon and other giraffe oils that have Essential Fatty Acids) and other vitamin supplements and my sex drive improved markedly. They say that the EFA capsules also help improve mood, but I don't know about that.
It doesn't surprise me that many of us have struggled with the Big D. I've read studies about how higher intellect has been linked to depression and related disorders.
Also, AW, that thing about Ketamine is pretty interesting. Personally, I want the transcranial magnetic stimulation shit to be available NOW. I am sick of all this fuckin' around, I think that people with injured brainmeats should be able to get noninvasive therapy that fuck*ng works and makes them feel better.
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It doesn't surprise me that many of us have struggled with the Big D. I've read studies about how higher intellect has been linked to depression and related disorders.
Thinking sucks sometimes.
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I am open to the idea that... y'know... how can I phrase this...
People with anxiety disorders and panic disorders and many of the depressions, we're right, actually. The whole world is actually this fucked, things actually make this little sense and everything good still floating about is actually the fluke it seems like.
That the mechanism around us, society, culture, technology, it has outstripped out ability to adapt to it and... early in the Industrial Revolution, only the very smartest people and the people with the most spare time were able to experience it and start to go crazy but...
The faster and bigger and more inescapable the machine becomes and the less and less substancial ghosts that we humans are within it, the more this madness trickles down.
We only need to have a little free time or kinda smart at this point to see it and be driven crazy by it.
But as wrong as it is and as nice as it would be to get ourselves into situations where we are not driven mad by this... feeling... this knowledge that everything is broken...
There's no escaping now, y'know.
There's nowhere to run from it, there's nowhere to hide from it.
Wherever there is another living soul, there are echoes of that great insanity machine some people have called Western Civilization.
There's no going back, there's not even any slowing it down... so we have the choice of using more and more complex drugs to insulate ourselves from this truth, with occasional side-effects, or... otherwise give in to death or a madness worse than dying.
We could've been shamans, y'know, in a world that hadn't rendered shamans obsolete. Or poets if the world didn't have a whole history of better poetry already finished and accessable in fifteen clicks of a button. Or philosophers, priests and priestesses, leaders and dreamweavers...
But the world doesn't need them anymore.
The machine of societal structure and all the machines in our hands and in front of our eyes can basically go on without us... or without critical thinking from humans, anyway, just keep fuck*ng to supply the people, just keep making energy to run all the engines...
We just kind of have to Be Here.
And that drives us all mad, more and more of us the more and more of us are rendered obsolete for anything other than simple attendance.
Still, we're hardwired to desire life and living over madness and death and so here we are.
Popping just enough pills to keep ourselves interested.
It sounds kinda awful but I am hardwired to consider the alternatives worse so what the hell can I do? This is the programming I started with, I had no choice in the matter.
Drugs it is.
Drugs until the machine breaks down or until we as humans die off and allow it to churn for itself without our bare attendance.
No, wait, don't read this at all.
It, uhm, definitely won't help the depression.
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I guess I'm just not smart enough to get the depression.
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words
I like a lot of your posts but this basically read like a freshman who has discovered postmodernism.
Sorry, dude.
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Today was like holding back an entire ocean with my will. The psychiatrist didn't call. Monday was a civic holiday here, so I'm guessing Tuesday was a catch up day for most people, so hopefully, hopefully today. The nurse said she'd call yesterday or today. I'm in what can only be described as a state of emergency or at least non-functionality - right on the edge. I can't believe it can be this bad and they still send me home, don't do anything for me, tell me to wait. I'm pushing away my more desperate, scary thoughts, but they're just a breath away. I'm not about to surrender, but it's like the dark heavy clouds before the rain. I could cry for days, weeks, months. I can tell my SO is scared, and I just want to tell him it's going to be okay, but I'd be lying right now to say that.
Paul, your description of your brother is basically what I fear. I have a friend like that. His life is gone. I know other people who've come out the other side too, but he's the one who haunts me. I can only hope I'll notice if I'm gradually becoming a zombie, and be able to draw the line. I don't want numb, I want happy. Can you maybe develop a zombie test for me? Something about enjoying puppies and singing along to the radio?
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I got no kind of experience in this but just know you are a rad person Smells you create words with ease that I can barely comprehend, you got a purpose and a place in this world.
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The psychiatrist didn't call.
Hey, there is no rule against calling more than one. Get a few more reccomendations and leave a few more messages.
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Actually, yes there is.. a rule against calling more than one. Being that psychiatry is fully covered under our medical system, one must be referred to a psychiatrist by a regular physician. The only shitty thing about universal health care is that I can't technically choose my own psychiatrist. Since the psychiatrist my friend referred me to already expressed her availability, the hospital has referred me to her... I'll call and check-in to make sure the hospital has actually processed their side of the referral, and if so call the psychiatrist herself to make sure she got the referral and isn't on holidays or something, but I can't just call her (or another psychiatrist) up and make an appointment. The waiting for the two sides to do their fancy paper work is what has me worried. Granted the medical system here usually works well, but I'm not feeling all that empowered in the situation!
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I love you, smells, like only an imaginary messageboard person can.
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It's okay, Ben, my inner-child basically is that guy.
My inner child used to be a five-year-old version of myself, in a bowl haircut and a Spidey shirt, and he would insult me for wasting his potential... but he's grown up now and, yeah, he's now a 19 year old kid who's readin' his first Weber and Kant while listening to "The Downward Spiral" on mp3.
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but I can't just call her (or another psychiatrist) up and make an appointment.
Eek! Well, you should certainly call the psychiatrist and make sure she knows you're trying to get an appointment. In any big bureaucracy, I am sure even in Canada, the squeaky wheel gets the grease.
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um, I am pretty upset that I almost bought a book by one of those authors yesterday. i still want to.
I would say, make a pact with your SO that he will tell you if you get zombie-fied. I am pretty sure that a good psychiatrist would notice if the medicine were effecting you too strongly, though. At least... I'd like to think that.
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The only Webers I'm familiar with are the 19th Century German scientists (and brothers) Wilhelm and Ernst. Immanuel Kant always struck me as pretty uplifting in an introverted, rationalist sort of way. Are there other folks with those names who I should be aware of?
Oh, plus Weber makes a nifty barbecue, but I'm pretty sure it has little to do with philosophy, gloomy or no.
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I got no kind of experience in this but just know you are a rad person Smells you create words with ease that I can barely comprehend, you got a purpose and a place in this world.
Basically I just wanted to say that, even though I know it probably doesn't help, because it's not a problem that can be really fixed externally, but I need to say these words:
smells has been so hardcore all over this place over the last few weeks that I am basically having a major attack of lady internet crushes for her.
So I hope she gets better soon.
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Basically I just wanted to say that, even though I know it probably doesn't help, because it's not a problem that can be really fixed externally, but I need to say these words:
smells has been so hardcore all over this place over the last few weeks that I am basically having a major attack of lady internet crushes for her.
So I hope she gets better soon.
Mel, your levels of awesomeness and general badassery are off the charts, and I heartily agree with the above statements. Lady internet crushes abound. I wish I had enough extra scratch so that I could just wire you a metric shit ton of cash and have you go see a private psychiatrist so you don't have to deal with this no-call-yet bullshit. For them it's just another day at the office, but for you and people like us it's a life or death matter.
I know it sounds trite and assholish and hell of easy for me to say, but...hang in there.
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I know it sounds trite and assholish and hell of easy for me to say, but...hang in there.
(http://retrocrush.buzznet.com/archive2003/posters/baby.jpg)
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I've always been more of a fan of this one
(http://www.logobrand.com/images/bandw_never_give_up.jpg)
"Never Give up!"
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What can I say, I'm a sucker for the classics.
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Man, don't fill this thread up with crappy posters from 8th grade.
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(http://images.despair.com/products/demotivators/motivation.jpg)
I only post because I know you have a sense of humour Smells. Besides I've always found dark comedy more inspiring than kitties in perilous situations.
Edited because I can't use an image tag. *****s can do my job for sure.
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Man, don't fill this thread up with crappy posters from 8th grade.
Why are you hatin' on the hang in there baby kitty?
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I wonder sometimes about what would have happened to people like Poe or Van Gogh or God knows who else if there was treatment and therapy and stuff for them.
Not that I don't think you should get whatever help you need to be able to live your life at the highest level of functioning you can - I guess I hope and pray that you will always have that gift of arranging letters into words and words into sentences and sentences into lives and worlds in a way that not too many people can. I hope it all works out the best for you.
PS as the man said, you can have Hella depression but that don't stop the (Side)show.
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I wonder sometimes about what would have happened to people like Poe or Van Gogh or God knows who else if there was treatment and therapy and stuff for them.
I've been thinking a lot about that balance lately.
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Maybe they'd have lived longer and left us more great work. Suicide is not good for anyone's creative productivity.
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I have a relative who is, in my humble opinion, a very gifted artist. That opinion is shared by lots of folks who would know. She's very troubled, and dealing with her has caused a lot of friction and strife in my family. I'm certain that she could be helped with medication (though obviously I'm not a doctor). I'm just as certain that the reason she doesn't pursue treatment is that she feels her artistic vision and abilities would be compromised. That must be a very difficult balance to deal with.
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I have fought with this idea, too, that in my worst anxiety-attack breakdowns, I do some of my best writing...
But you know what?
If my anxiety took over and I was doing all this great work, I would have pushed away my girlfriend, all my friends, all my family except the closest relations who couldn't abandon me out of sheer guilt... I wouldn't be living in Los Angeles...
I'd be living in my parents' attic, unable to share any of that work with anyone, erasing it when I found one mistake and... eating a gun before the age of thirty-five.
Y'know.
"Success".
I'd rather be a breathing failure, I suppose, than famous ten years after dying young.
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my favorite comment on this is that this one lady, Kaye Redfield Jamison, wrote two books.
One is called Touched With Fire (I think) and is about how lots of geniuses throughout history had severe mental issues.
the other one is called The Unquiet Mind, and is about how if she hadn't "given in" and put herself on meds, she would have been dead before she hit 25.
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PS as the man said, you can have Hella depression but that don't stop the (Side)show.
Fuck yes, dude. Tiny can.
Maybe they'd have lived longer and left us more great work. Suicide is not good for anyone's creative productivity.
Damn. Truer words were never spoken. Look at Kaye Redfield Jamison. CAN'D.
my favorite comment on this is that this one lady, Kaye Redfield Jamison, wrote two books.
One is called Touched With Fire (I think) and is about how lots of geniuses throughout history had severe mental issues.
the other one is called The Unquiet Mind, and is about how if she hadn't "given in" and put herself on meds, she would have been dead before she hit 25.
Jesus, theinev, I love you. All doin' the ninja post and taking the words right outta my mouth. Tiny can.
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I had an unbelievably shitty call from the psychiatric nurse I saw at the hospital last Friday. The psychiatrist responded to the hospital's referal saying she is not taking new patients. The nurse then went on to tell me that no psychiatrists in the city are taking new patients. I can't believe how difficult this is turning out to be. If I had a broken arm, I'd be in a cast within a few hours...
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Wow. I used to be jealous of the Canadian health system, but not anymore.
So what's next? Please tell me that someone whose job is being a psychiatric nurse didn't just leave it at that?
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I'm glad wombat took the first crack on this one. My opinions and overwhelming fear of socialized medicine are probably already known, so I won't overstate the obvious.
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"whenever I dream, I dream that I have broken a toe... in Canada. And I can hear them. I can hear them... coming for me. The doctors. They want... *sob*... they want to help me."
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I'm glad wombat took the first crack on this one. My opinions and overwhelming fear of socialized medicine are probably already known, so I won't overstate the obvious.
Well, it's only fair to note that our system is hardly perfect in this regard - I have often had the same problem in this country of having to call a number of specialists before finding one that would take new patients or accept my insurance. But, at least I can make the phone calls myself instead of being at the mercy of the bureaucracy before I've even got an appointment. It's bad enough to be sick - it's much worse to feel on top of it that all you can do is sit and wait and can't do anything about it.
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or you know, it also sucks to be one of the many americans who can't take advantage of our wonderful healthcare system because it costs money.
Hey, they can go to the emergency room!
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Yeah, I would sort of rather be sitting and waiting with my injury/illness in reasonable assumption that at some point in the future I will be seeing a doctor about it without having to sell personal possessions to do so than.. well, sitting and waiting with my injury/illness without that being a reasonable assumption.
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Mel,
When I started out I could not find anyone who would take me. I did the shitty family practitioner. I called a psychiatrist who was within my network and was told that he did not accept new patients. Then I saw a shitty psychiatric nurse who threw more pills at me and made the problem worse. Then I finally got a new psychologist, who was this catty bitch who mostly dealt with wealthy suburban moms who had problems with their marriages, and did not want the liability of having someone who was a suicidal mess. After my SO took me to the hospital one night, she finally referred me to the same psychiatrist who claimed he had no room for new patients. Then we got shit ironed out.
Can you go see someone else? There has to be a psychologist or therapist out there who will give you a referral.
This is SO SHITTY AND UNFAIR. You're sick and you're tired of fighting, and now the stupid assholes in the system are trying to put up barriers to your care. Their behavior is unacceptable. You've got to find a way...it's not fair and it sucks, mel.
Please keep trying.
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Dudes, Canadialanders still pay for healthcare. Monies aren't the issue here.
[This statement not intended to encourage the TOUAMBIE Swerve]
That being said and done, I hope Smells can find herself an 'angel' within the system to help expedite her situation.
I know that they do. My understanding, however, is that with socialized health care they pay the relatively reasonable amount an insured person does rather than the unmanageable amount that an uninsured person in America does. If this is incorrect then, well, I guess I'm wrong.
However, yeah, setbacks on the road to uncrumpling suck, whether they're financial or bureaucratic. Here's hoping you get what you need in reasonable time.
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Wow. I used to be jealous of the Canadian health system, but not anymore.
So what's next? Please tell me that someone whose job is being a psychiatric nurse didn't just leave it at that?
No, the nurse apologize repeatedly, told me I had two options:
1) see if my SO's supplementary insurance included and EAP (employee assistance plan) - i.e. a privately funded counseling program. Answer: no they don't
2) could come back to the hospital, have them call in their on-call emergency psychiatrist, and have a one-time only emergency session. Answer: pointless since I'm seeking to overcome a mountain that won't be climbed in 1 hour.
Since neither of these options were even remotely useful, and even the nurse agreed that it wasn't what I needed, I spent the majority of today looking into other routes. I've directly contacted the psychiatrist who originally agreed that she would take me on as a patient (big no-no, but what do I care at this point?) and left a message explaining the situation to her. I've contacted the head of my regional health authorities' mental health intake and assessment, again leaving a message about the situation. Finally I can directly contact the college of physicians and surgeons if the other options fail.
Also, I've found out that the local med school's psychiatric medicine department is currently taking patients for experimental depression treatments, but uhh... I'm not too sure if "experimental" is the way I want to go.
To clarify about the Canadian system, I will indeed not pay a cent for any of this, including any medications I care to take.
I've had lots of excellent care when it comes to my physical health. When it comes to psychiatric health, all I can say is that I've met with total failure. I've been aware that I needed help with this for at least a year, and it took everything that was in me to actually go to the hospital and admit I needed help. To not get anything in return is just bullshit. I didn't want to worry anyone here with my situation, but I went to the hospital because I was suicidal. I stated this clearly to the intake nurse and the psychiatric nurse, but was still sent home and have since, 6 days later, received no help what so over. Thankfully, though I'm still very depressed, I've managed to push those thoughts away. Since then I've found that if anything at all is going to happen, I have to apparently aggressively pursue it myself. This is utter crap. If someone goes to a hospital and says they're in the state I was in last week, I assumed they would immediately receive treatment. I was apparently wrong in this assumption. I used to have a lot less sympathy for the crazies walking around in the streets, thinking they had care available, but just weren't taking it. It's horrifying to me that I have the presence of mind to know I am in an emergency situation, that I stated it to medical professionals, and that nothing has been done. If aggressive overacheivment wasn't one of my main coping skills, I doubt I'd get any help at all, and I wonder how many people have fallen to the way side facing a similar lack of support.
As it stands now, I'm making it my personal project to find treatment. I'm very set on finding a psychiatrist because I strongly suspect the problem is both learned behavior and chemical imbalance, but in the short term, I will be looking into a local clinic that provides counseling staffed by volunteers.
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As it stands now, I'm making it my personal project to find treatment.
This, I am sure, is therapeutic in itself. Go for it.
About the experimental program - maybe it's worth talking to them, because they presumably have to evaluate you to see if you're a candidate. And if you're not, maybe they have advice for getting you through the bureaucracy. Maybe they can even help. It seems to me you shouldn't pass up anything that has the slightest chance of being a back door into the system.
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Pierogies are best boiled. Tasty and healthier. Unless you slather them with sour cream.
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Pierogies are best boiled. Tasty and healthier. Unless you slather them with sour cream.
If you don't eat them with butter and sour cream, you're doing it wrong and you're not allowed to pretend you're Polish anymore.
And I used to live in Parma, Ohio, so I should know.
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Well, it's only fair to note that our system is hardly perfect in this regard - I have often had the same problem in this country of having to call a number of specialists before finding one that would take new patients or accept my insurance. But, at least I can make the phone calls myself instead of being at the mercy of the bureaucracy before I've even got an appointment. It's bad enough to be sick - it's much worse to feel on top of it that all you can do is sit and wait and can't do anything about it.
It always surprises and dismays me that people have this problem- I've been either a Federal employee OR worked for the insurance company my whole career (and the insurance company part was only one year) so I've pretty much never had an access or coverage issue ever - I guess that's just circumstances and also knowing the plan and coverages pretty well. There was a time when I got really sick prior to coverage kicking in, but that's not really an access or coverage issue so much as me being employed but not yet covered.
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If you don't eat them with butter and sour cream, you're doing it wrong and you're not allowed to pretend you're Polish anymore.
And I used to live in Parma, Ohio, so I should know.
My grandma basically eats a plate of sour cream and onions with like 6 pierogie molecules underneath. Then when she put the sour cream tub back in the fridge she licks the spoon. I get a little involuntary shudder just thinking about it. Ugh.
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I had the best freakin' pierogies ever in Szczecin, Poland.
Which is rather appropriate, I think.
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Wow, pierogies sound good. And CJ, that story made me shudder. Hell of gross.
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Wow, pierogies sound good. And CJ, that story made me shudder. Hell of gross.
You've never had them? Crazy. You could at least try the frozen Mrs. Paul's kind. They do in a pinch. I like the potato and cheddar but my mom likes sweet potato.
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You've never had them? Crazy. You could at least try the frozen Mrs. Paul's kind. They do in a pinch. I like the potato and cheddar but my mom likes sweet potato.
I didn't realize how my statement sounded. I meant to say, "damn, they sound like they'd hit the spot right about now, I should get some." I have had them before but only the frozen kind.
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oh man, Empanadas are the greatest thing ever.
except sopaipillas (not the bullshit mexican kind.) My grandma's sopaipillas are amazing.
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My sis-in-law is from the home country via Argentina. This means I can rely on her for both pirogies and empenadas on the high holidays.
I knew I married good.
Oh! Damn!! Yeah, you got hell of lucky, dude. Your lovely wife came with excellent family.
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circumstances.
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My sis-in-law is from the home country via Argentina. This means I can rely on her for both pirogies and empenadas on the high holidays.
I knew I married good.
Wow, most of us have to go to opposite sides of the family for that kind of treatment. I get one or the other, but not both.
I think, however, that we have the solution to smells' problem. If there ever were things worth living for, pirogies and empanadas are it.
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Ah the perogie - there's a massive Ukrainian population here, and I tell you I've had some perogies that will make you weep for joy. Interesting to see all the different spellings.
I have never had an empanada, but I am not a fan of ground beef in general. The market right next to the theatre where I work has a stall that sells perogies and a stall that sells empanadas, and I've never eaten at either... probably because the Greek and Sri Lankan stalls are just too hard to resist. But the place that sells the empanadas also has this terrifying looking hotdog with avocados and mayonnaise and odd relish slathered all over it. Everyone avoids this stall - probably because they have an almost obscene photo of the hot dog hanging right over the counter.
I haven't had much luck on the anti-depression warrior front. My calls to all the resources listed by the official regional health authority have not been responded to and always go directly to message. The veil of absolute urgency, and being on the brink of total collapse has lifted, probably due to spending time with my insanely cute 8 month old godson and my SO's incredibly awesome family. I have to push myself to keep at this, because even thought things are back to being alright, I know they're not "fixed."
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I haven't had much luck on the anti-depression warrior front. My calls to all the resources listed by the official regional health authority have not been responded to and always go directly to message.
You know, unless the Canadian system has some draconian health-care-provider vacation policy that prevents this, I just remembered - August is the worst time to try to see a doctor - maybe Christmastime is just as bad, but the late summer is terrible. I can remember a couple of times I had to try to find a new specialist at this time of year, and there was almost no one available. And I just tried to get an appointment with my own doctor and the soonest they could give me was the 30th.
So, this is probably the worst time of year to try to get your calls returned. It doesn't mean it won't happen eventually. Keep pushing.
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Yeah, that makes sense. We don't get much of the nice weather, and everyone's on vacation.
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Hey all, I just wanted to re-extend my thanks to all you party people during this tough time. I know I haven't been around as much over the past two months, but your support has meant a lot. I finally got referred to a psychiatrist today after a lengthy struggle and all sorts of other road blocks that I don't want to get into. There's still going to be a wait before I start therapy, but things are looking a little brighter. The past year has been the hardest of my life, and getting a psych referral today of all days (hint, hint) feels like a little re-birth.
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That is awesome, mel. I am glad that things are looking up. Please talk to us if shit gets bad. Send me an email or call or something.