Crazy Log #4 - Drugs r bad, mmmkay?
Way back in July? That's the last time I did this? I've been neglecting my craziness. It's about time, though, for another honest assessment of my mental health. Bear with me, please. You don't have to read it if you don't want to. This is mostly for me.
The last psychiatrist I saw diagnosed me with bipolar I disorder, increased my dose of Lexapro to 40mg per day (from 20mg), and recommended I take lithium as a mood stabilizer. I refused the lithium, because I like my kidneys and my personality, thank you, but I did increase the Lexapro, even though I was skeptical of taking twice the maximum recommended dose.
Three months ago, when I first moved to Columbus, I began to step down my dose of Lexapro once again. I've been taking approximately 30mg per day since then, and now I'm working towards getting back down to 20mg. I've been through an awful lot of emotional trauma in the meantime, but I feel that my baseline mood has actually improved since reducing my dose. More importantly, my imagination has returned.
There are a host of side-effects I've experienced with the several different types of SSRIs I've been on over the years. By far the most disturbing -- even more irritating than the decreased sex drive -- has been the crippling of my ability to imagine things. My creativity has been constipated, and my muses have been muffled into silence. This is altogether unacceptable for me. I need to inspire, and to inspire, I need to create, end-of-story. That's why I'm stepping down to a lower dose.
I haven't experienced any of the usual withdrawal symptoms per se, but sometimes it is rather unnerving to suddenly realize I have emotions again. Not all the emotions are pleasant, but I find myself clinging to them as if my life depends on them, because they are pieces of myself that have been buried in a fog of neurochemical dampeners. I'm finding me again, and I refuse to accept that I am nothing more than a collection of pathological traits brought about by past trauma and faulty synapses.
About a week ago, I spoke to an intake counselor at a government-funded clinic, and he asked many probing questions. The man was surprisingly astute, and did not treat me like an idiot. He was so remarkably observant that he even figured out that I am left-handed just by watching how I was fiddling with my fingers. Guess what he said? He said that he doesn't believe I'm bipolar. He said he saw traits of borderline personality disorder, but acknowledged that many of those tendencies seemed to be linked to circumstances in my life. He seemed to genuinely appreciate my self-awareness and my willingness to get help when I needed it. He also said that my primary diagnosis should probably be Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, not a depressive disorder... which is what I've been trying to tell "them" for years.
Unfortunately, I can't see this particular psychologist on a regular basis. He only works in intake and does evaluations for the agency. I'm on a 3-month waiting list to see a psychologist at Ohio State, after which I will be referred to a psychiatrist. It's a good thing I have a reliable, semi-legal source of meds for such occasions, as well as very good friends.
In the meantime, I plan to enjoy the return of real emotions.
The last psychiatrist I saw diagnosed me with bipolar I disorder, increased my dose of Lexapro to 40mg per day (from 20mg), and recommended I take lithium as a mood stabilizer. I refused the lithium, because I like my kidneys and my personality, thank you, but I did increase the Lexapro, even though I was skeptical of taking twice the maximum recommended dose.
Three months ago, when I first moved to Columbus, I began to step down my dose of Lexapro once again. I've been taking approximately 30mg per day since then, and now I'm working towards getting back down to 20mg. I've been through an awful lot of emotional trauma in the meantime, but I feel that my baseline mood has actually improved since reducing my dose. More importantly, my imagination has returned.
There are a host of side-effects I've experienced with the several different types of SSRIs I've been on over the years. By far the most disturbing -- even more irritating than the decreased sex drive -- has been the crippling of my ability to imagine things. My creativity has been constipated, and my muses have been muffled into silence. This is altogether unacceptable for me. I need to inspire, and to inspire, I need to create, end-of-story. That's why I'm stepping down to a lower dose.
I haven't experienced any of the usual withdrawal symptoms per se, but sometimes it is rather unnerving to suddenly realize I have emotions again. Not all the emotions are pleasant, but I find myself clinging to them as if my life depends on them, because they are pieces of myself that have been buried in a fog of neurochemical dampeners. I'm finding me again, and I refuse to accept that I am nothing more than a collection of pathological traits brought about by past trauma and faulty synapses.
About a week ago, I spoke to an intake counselor at a government-funded clinic, and he asked many probing questions. The man was surprisingly astute, and did not treat me like an idiot. He was so remarkably observant that he even figured out that I am left-handed just by watching how I was fiddling with my fingers. Guess what he said? He said that he doesn't believe I'm bipolar. He said he saw traits of borderline personality disorder, but acknowledged that many of those tendencies seemed to be linked to circumstances in my life. He seemed to genuinely appreciate my self-awareness and my willingness to get help when I needed it. He also said that my primary diagnosis should probably be Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, not a depressive disorder... which is what I've been trying to tell "them" for years.
Unfortunately, I can't see this particular psychologist on a regular basis. He only works in intake and does evaluations for the agency. I'm on a 3-month waiting list to see a psychologist at Ohio State, after which I will be referred to a psychiatrist. It's a good thing I have a reliable, semi-legal source of meds for such occasions, as well as very good friends.
In the meantime, I plan to enjoy the return of real emotions.