Take your medication without shame

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I’ve seen a few articles pop up on my news-feed about the cons of psychiatric medication and it is making me angry. One talked about how they’re addictive and another discussed decreased empathy in patients taking anti-depressants.

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First of all, depression decreases empathy because you’re enveloped by your own guilt and self-hatred. Therefore, it is possible that the decreased empathy is not a byproduct of anti-depressants, but a symptom of depression. I did not even open the link, much less read the actual journal article. So , it is possible the journal article addressed this confound.

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Regardless, my 2nd point is more important. I, along with many others, would be dead, in a long-term institution, or thanks to deinstitutionalization, homeless,  without psychiatric medication. As much as I talk about suicide, I haven’t attempted since I was 16 years old. Before finding the right combination of medication during inpatient, I attempted multiple times.

Because this idea is SO IMPORTANT, you might need to see this image again: stigma-associated-with-mental-health-quote - Copy

I often struggle with the idea that I *shouldn’t* need psychiatric medication. My thoughts range from “I’m weak and if I can’t handle life without medication, then I don’t deserve life” to “It is just a placebo”. Whenever I stop my medication, my life spirals downward. The times I’ve been closest to hospitalization since eating disorder inpatient, were all times I was messing with my medication.

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Acting and Trapped because I Care too Much

Is everyone always acting too?

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I act happy most of the time. Both my mom and Ginny recently said if they didn’t know any better, they wouldn’t know I was depressed. Mark’s lies make me wonder if everyone is also always acting.

My co-workers and I  are dumbfounded, but we all went back to work and pretend nothing happened with Mark. We are all acting.

Recently, I acted as if I like the new BCBA, even though I am jealous and wary of her. In fact, today I asked her opinion.

If everyone is acting, then maybe no one is happy?


In other news: I wanted to cut when I saw Ashley mess up the behavior plan of the regressing student. I took specific notes on observations of her and others. I gave my notes to the new BCBA. Maybe I care TOO much.

For example, I thought she could teach empathy and coping skills in the morning, instead of reading joke books. She liked the idea, but said she was too busy teaching 3 classes. When (more like IF) Barb leaves and I take over Science and History, she wants to do that. I offered to research empathy training and impulse control games. Even though last night I didn’t want to do that. I’m not getting paid to do this. My boss doesn’t know. Before not getting the promotion and The Conversation, I would’ve done it without a second thought. However, now I don’t feel like going the extra mile for them because they don’t think I am good enough. My boss and Ginny always say I work hard and my ideas are good. Yet their actions belie that. Therefore, why try to prove them wrong? If they think I am sub-par, I will stop trying to be anything other than average. I will be as small and inept as they make me feel. I know that is wrong of me. 😦 I feel guilty and want to cut again after typing this. Regardless, I feel stuck. I told Ashley I’d give her games and class plans. I don’t want to be someone who offers help and then never follows through.

I think Prozac is helping. My psychiatrist almost hospitalized me again. “Do you think you can not listen to them (the suicidal thoughts)?” *sigh* I told him I’m still having suicidal thoughts multiple times a day, including while driving and that I’ve thought of causing accidents. Still no mention of the noose in my bedroom. The thoughts are still there, but the urges aren’t as strong.

Successful Day without Meds

That went better than expected! My day was fine, neither good, nor bad. I wanted to cut before work started, but I had no blade. I started interfering with the cuts from last week, but I stopped before I drew blood. So, I’m not counting it as SI.

There is a new behaviorist (BCBA – Ginny’s job). So far, I have a neutral opinion of her. I’m insecure because of her presence. The more people we get who are highly qualified, the less I feel my opinion matters. Why would anyone listen to me, with my bachelor’s degree in psychology, when they now have 2 BCBAs, 1 BCaBA (assistant behavior analyst), 2 people who are working on BCBA coursework and earning Masters degrees in behavior analysis, and a licensed clinical social worker (Ashley)? They wouldn’t. Therefore, I am useless. Anyone, even a high school senior, could do my job! Literally. There is a high school senior who has the same job as me. I am replaceable. I contribute nothing. In theory, anyone is replaceable, but I am easily replaceable. I contribute nothing unique or valuable. I feel invisible and worthless.

Nothing made me mad today. I must have looked upset though because Heather came up to me and hugged me, saying, “You can do it!”

I was fine during work. I was even okay during lunch and I sat next to the new BCBA. However, as soon as the kids went home and people just stood around chatting for the last 15 minutes, I started wanting to cut. I’m not sure why. I haven’t cut yet. I might. I spent my drive home trying to figure out why I wanted to cut. There is a boil order in my county. I’m going to see why and perhaps drink tap water.

Ginny said she might always work 2 lunches from now on. That means I’ll never have lunch with her during work, except perhaps Wednesdays. However, the lunch group is getting too large for my taste. It used to just be, Ginny, my boss, the O.T. therapist, and I. Last week, it was the 4 of us, the new BCaBA, Heather, and Ashley. Of course, it was fault the group was so large because I invited the last 2. I’m positive the new BCBA will join us tomorrow. I should just start restricting again. There is no need to care about friends or my worth if I can lose weight.

ugh people red orange is the new black

OMFG, someone keep calling my home phone. I’m getting annoyed . I’m sure it is my mom wanting to make sure I know about the boil order.

*sigh* Lol, I honestly felt fine all day! My only symptoms of missing all my medication was tingling sensations and brain zaps. Brain zaps are hard to explain. It is like electricity running over your brain or the feeling you get after your foot falls asleep, except in your brain. It isn’t bothersome, just odd.

I picked up my new medication. I wanted to either buy more sleeping pills or buy diet pills. So, I went through the drive thru pharmacy, instead of going inside. That way I couldn’t buy anything other than my prescriptions. I’m considering quitting it all, cold turkey. I shouldn’t need psychiatric medication. Ginny basically said it was placebo. I’ve been on meds since I was 12. I want to know what I’m like without medication. I’m weak and pathetic.

Happy Unmedicated Labor Day

The pharmacy was closed today. So I couldn’t get my new medication or refills. Tomorrow I’ll be unmedicated. Yay. I hope I can hold it together at work tomorrow. None of them have ever seen me without medication. Since I woke up too late to take Adderall, I’ve grazed all day. When I couldn’t buy my meds, I bought $30 worth of binge food. I just ate a pint of ice cream.

Fun fact: Häagen-Dazs brownies are much better than the brownies in Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

On the bright side, I didn’t buy new sleeping pills, which I considered. I don’t feel too bad at the moment, my self-talk was simply dangerous.

I found a box cutter in my room. I knew I still had one somewhere, but I couldn’t find it the night before I gave them all to Ginny. Crap. As soon as I saw it, I wanted to cut, even though I was fine a moment before. Way to go conditioning.

I accidently opened the wounds from Monday while showering. I thought I was okay because I stopped the blood. I was wrong. It bled through my khaki pants.

Despite all this, I feel okay. I’m extremely anxious about tomorrow. I’d consider calling off, but I missed too much work because of surgery.

To Die or Not to Die


That is the question. I would have killed myself last night, except if I attempt suicide again, I need to be 100% sure I won’t wake up in the hospital again and that is tough to ensure with the methods available to me on an impulse.

I talked to my mom about whether or not to quit law school. Before the conversation I was fine, during and after the conversation I was suicidal. I was not suicidal because of law school. This has never been about law school. In the end, it is about me. The urges began when Mom admitted something to me… She is frustrated and she has been frustrated for years because she is sick and tired of the crises I manufacture for myself and my enumerated character flaws. She said she was sick of me all four years of undergrad and she almost didn’t want me to go to graduate school because I’m too emotionally weak. She is tired of mental illness and seeing me shoot myself in the foot. The facts don’t bother me. I know I am weak. I know I forge the shackles that hobble me with my own mind. I know the only thing holding me back is me. I know I have plenty of character flaws. I know I sabotage my own success. Her words hurt because she is the main reason I abjure suicide. I stay because I know what my suicide would do to her. There are other reasons like the rest of my family and friends and a lingering fear of hell. However, I believe everyone else would get over it with time. I am afraid of hell for suicide or for any of the innumerable ways I fall short as a human being, but sometimes I think I deserve hell. Furthermore, a large chunk of me thinks there is no hell or God wouldn’t damn me specifically for suicide. My mom is the only person I am certain would not recover from my suicide. Everyone else would move on.

So, when she said she was frustrated and sick of me and my problems…My first thought was that I could easily remove the source of her anger. The past two times I did not write suicide notes. This time I would. In essence, I’m doing it for them, for everyone. There maybe sadness and anger, but there won’t be any more fear, worry, frustration, disappointment, sadness, or anger. That will be the end of my story. She won’t have to worry about whether I’m eating or sleeping or going to class. She can do whatever she wants because she won’t have to worry about me being alone when I’m struggling. If I finish what I started 11 years ago, everyone else will have a better life with me gone. All I do is cause hurt and chaos. Ah hell, GOD started it 23 years ago. Everyone knows I shouldn’t have survived. I contribute nothing positive, or at least not nearly enough positive things to outweigh all the negatives.

My existence only causes heartache. Could I change that? Theoretically, but as my mom said last night, what makes me think I will change? I can say I’ll do better all I want, but so far, I just keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Therefore, I have no logical reason to believe I will be a better person in the future. I always say I’ll do better, I’ll be better, and I’ll try harder. But I am never enough and I never will be. There is no point in prolonging their suffering.

Ironically, I don’t want to die.

Buffy_I don't want to die that is something right

Yet, I am an unwelcome burden on the people I love and I cannot abide by that. I say unwelcome because while I would feel guilty if I had ALS and my family members cared for me as my health declined, I would not be suicidal if they wanted me around, while I could still draw breath.       Buffy_Dawn rejection so obvious you don't want me around

But no one does, not really. Sure people would say flowery words, claiming they miss me, but actions speak louder than words. As I said, I admit there would be initial grief and I regret that, but everyone (except perhaps Mom) has their own, separate, vibrant, full life. Taking me out of the equation will not hinder them in the long run. They don’t need me now; so, postmortem platitudes are just that…Empty words. They’ll go back to school, work, family, loved ones, and heal. As I live, all I do is compound the pain. If I die, it would hurt them for a while, but that would be the end of their burden.

I would need to somehow assuage guilt. That is the toughest part. I am capable of killing myself (provided I am uninterrupted) for sure. The worst possible outcome would be interruption and brain damage. I can make sure I am uninterrupted though. Teenage me didn’t think about the interruption part. I expected I’d fall asleep and no one would notice until it was too late. Apparently, I stayed conscious and obviously drugged. No more mistakes. I am certain grief will heal and they’ll experience less pain overall. I have no dependents to worry about. The afterlife will be whatever it is… The only remaining problem is I know suicide makes people feel guilty and guilt can be tougher to overcome than grief. It can tear people apart and I don’t want that.

I know everything in my life, including my death, should I chose it, is my fault and if they could see it rationally they would understand they couldn’t make a difference. However, I of all people, know emotions are not rational. The only way to solve the problem is writing very thorough notes or deciding the risk of guilt is less than the continued pain caused by my presence.

Speaking of my presence, I said I didn’t want to die, but I can’t just disappear to remove my influence because then they will always wonder what happened to me. I imagine that gnawing hole would be worse than my annoyance. A dead body puts that question to rest.

This is all awful because I don’t actually want to die. As much as my loved ones try to understand, they blame me for my shortcomings.

Buffy_dou think I chose to be like this

Last night I paraphrased the above GIF saying, “Do you think I chose to be like this? Do you think I do this on purpose? Do you think I want to make the same mistakes over and over again? Do you think I want to be miserable?!?” She sort of understood what I was saying, but correctly dismissed it. They rightfully blame me. After all, I do make excuses. As my Mom said last night, my failures aren’t from some magical mental illness I can’t control; I let myself be weak and I dodge blame saying I can’t help it. That isn’t true. I can help it, but I won’t. There is something wrong with me because I don’t have the willpower to do things for myself. I’m motivated by pleasing others. I will go through hell for other people, but getting out of bed in the morning for my own gratification feels impossible. I am capable of it, but unless someone else has the expectation that I get out of bed and they’ll know if I don’t get out of bed, and I care about them, I will stay in bed all day.

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I tried to tell her that while technically I made choices, which led to outcomes I disliked, and technically I have the ability to make different choices, things are not so black and white. Buffy_not that simple

Why would anyone chose this? They would not!! At the same time… she is right. The simple truth is: I am too weak. I could / would / should do a lot…but I’m too weak emotionally.

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It feels like internal chaos. In reality, I hold the reigns; I can do better. I am simply not strong enough.

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She said there is no point in doing the bare minimum again and barely passing. It is a waste of time, effort, anguish, and money. That is so true. Nonetheless, part of me holds out hope that I can finish the semester and give new classes a chance. She is correct. I’m foolish. As always, I’m telling myself what I want to hear, but doing nothing to create change.
Buffy_too much for me want it to be over

*breathes deeply* I cried while typing this, big surprise… *sigh* For now I’m trying to persevere. Buffy_moment by moment

But then I think… I’m just kidding myself. I am nothing. I am no one. I am a moment in eternity. I am a red dwarf in a sky full of blazing suns. I could better myself, but I don’t have the energy, the willpower. At least if I died in the next 24 hours, my mom would get 70% of this semester’s tuition back.

I can’t withdraw because that admits defeat and stagnation. Also, as I already said, as boring as I find the material, this all comes down to me and nothing about my circumstances. Plus, quitting dooms me to a lifetime of worrying other people. So, I stay and pass or I kill myself. Doing it sooner rather than later means my family gets some money. So, am I reducing the value of my life to about $9,500? I guess so. That seems callous, but I believe it is worth less than that.

*laughs bitterly* Now I am frustrated! I still don’t want to die. There are places I want to see and things I want to experience, but they come at the cost of other people’s happiness. I feel sad; my heart is heavy.

I won’t kill myself, unless on impulse because some small part of me knows even though I can’t fathom it at the moment, my suicide would hurt the people I care about more than I can imagine.

Here is to spending the next 2 hours reading for a class I think I may have already failed because I missed too much class. I may have miscalculated the number of allowed absences because I forgot to take the credit hour change into account. Although my classes are all the same as last semester, their respective number of hours changed this semester and the maximum allowed absences is a function of how many hours a class is worth.

I guess in the interim, I’ll make do with imagining violence happening to me. (…which is why I fear masochism is an outlet of self-loathing…but then it is the only way I am aroused…but then this is clearly related…Ugh, FAIL…)

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