Oh. I think I may be in for some dark days ahead. I’m falling into a bit of isolation and hydrophobia. When I get depressed, I get as hydrophobic as a person who’s rabid. It’s weird. I don’t want to bathe or drink water, even. I have to force myself to do both. I’ll get kidney pain I’ll have had so little to drink. And it’s beginning.
I’m blaming myself for going off meds and staying up week before last. But I know this combination of medication has been less than ideal since I’ve been on it. That’s why I went off meds. The regimen’s been a temporary fix. I’ve seemed together, but it’s an elaborate system of straps and pulleys, spot welding and duct tape holding everything on. I’m so tired. So. Tired.
I don’t want to have to do through another medication change while I’m trying to do my applications for grad school. But maybe being crazy’ll let the creativity loose and I’ll be able to type again. I don’t know. So much fear. I’d like to be able to leave the house again, six days a week at least, like a normal person. Right now, I can’t do that. Six is too many. I can’t stand to have people’s eyes crawling all over me like slugs for that many days in a row. It’s too hard. After the sixth day I feel it and I need to come home and hibernate and not drink water and get all cruddy in my skin.
Yeah, it’s starting. I have an appointment with one of the doctors that will know better than me everything about my head soon. Three weeks from now. Honestly, I can’t get a sooner appointment. That’s about it with my plan. She’s good though. She knows about the molecular structure of medicines, and that’s hard to find in a doctor. She doesn’t keep me doped up like an elephant. I can function on the amounts of medicines I’m on (which is good, because I have to take five different pills a day. Call the waahmbulance).
I’m just so sick and tired of being tired and sick what feels right now like all the time. I know this is part of my personality, and part of my person. I wouldn’t be who I am without this, but it’s getting in my way today. I’m fucking tired of it. Tired of missing out on life because of it. Tired of feeling like I let people down because of it. Tired of feeling like a fuck up because of it, like I don’t follow through because of the depression. My other symptoms are pretty much under control, just a little light OCD, and I can hang with checking the door to make sure it’s locked three times before I go to sleep, honest. It’s obviously not spilling into my hygiene. Every other day for a shower is a struggle. But the downness. The tugging at the corners of my life until the whole thing is under water. I don’t want to go back there. I won’t. I won’t go back there. I’ll fucking do ECT before I go back there.
Warning sign of things to come. It happened before it can happen again.