Isn't it ironic?

After I have been well for several years, I am so optimistic that I won't ever get sick again.

Then I start writing posts like Put Me On The Crazy List, saying I should never be able to purchase a gun.  I tell my friend that he should never give me the guns he keeps safe for me. 

I look at the pills I have hoarded, and I think, "I'll never want to use these!  And just to be safe, I'll get rid of them."  So down the toilet they go.  (Yes, I do know that's not the proper way to dispose of them, but it's best to just do it while I'm in the mood to flush them.)

Ah, but then I get sick again.

I yearn for a gun; it would be so quick that way.  But I don't even have the energy to go buy one.  And my friend certainly won't give me one.  I don't want to talk to anyone anyway, so I wouldn't even call him.

And I yearn for multiple bottles of pills.  To just go to sleep forever.  Why was I so certain I'd never want them?  And my doctor sure as hell won't prescribe a bunch of them for me now.   

Alanis says it perfectly:

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything’s okay and everything’s going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything’s gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face

Yes, Alanis, it is ironic.

Circling the Drain

Today I'm swirling around the black pit. 

I went out to a doctor appointment yesterday.  I sat in my car afterward, recuperating.  I ran an errand, then I sat in my car recuperating.  Ran one more errand, sat in my car some more to rest.  These small efforts at interacting with people were exhausting.  A doctor appointment and two quick errands took me 4.5 hours.

I noticed, too, that everything I did yesterday was slow. 

I am known in my family for my speedy driving habits.  I meticulously keep my speed to nine miles above the speed limit, because someone once told me I wouldn't be pulled over unless I went ten miles over the speed limit.

Dear God, I found myself driving 45 in a 55 mph zone and 50 in a 65 mph zone.  I am surely sick.

I'm even walking slowly.  More like a shuffle.

And today I started New-Medicine-Number-2.

You have no idea how demoralizing this is. 

Starting New-Medicine-Number-2 just means that New-Medicine-Number-1 didn't help.  It took almost a month to decide that New-Medicine-Number-1 hasn't helped.  That's because of the nature of these medications. 

These meds attempt to change brain chemistry.  That can't just be accomplished by taking the pill for a few days.  It can take weeks for the medication to get into the brain and then to build up to therapeutic levels. 

Apparently, New-Medicine-Number-1 has had a sufficient trial of four weeks, so it's time to move on.

Imagine if you were subject to physical pain and had to wait four weeks just to see if a new medicine would help.  Then another four weeks for the second new medicine. 

I have already been off of work for a month.  I feel my new career as a Peer Specialist slipping away.  I hope that's just my illness causing me to think that way, and that I can return to this job.  After all, this job is why I left my high-paying IT job to work in low-paying social services.

Now, I have to wait for New-Medicine-Number-2.  To see if it will work, or not.  In the meantime, my caseload at work waits.  God bless my clients.  I can only hope that this latest episode of depressive disorder will help me to understand my clients' illnesses even better.

But, my God, this sure gets old.