Doctor, cure me
August 5, 2012
It’s difficult not to feel defeated sometimes.
I have not had the greatest time trying to figure everything out the last few weeks. I have not been sleeping well lately and my moods have been difficult, if not impossible to control. Especially the lows. I have been snared more than once and have found tears streaming down my cheeks more than once in the passing days. Part of me wonders if it’s not just things the drug suppressed and now it’s all coming out with such great force I cannot control it.
But I seek some control because I want to be able to live normally. I want to be able to work and sleep and go do things without worrying about a possible emotional meltdown, something else I’ve had over the past few weeks. So, I did what I’ve done every time I’ve had an issue like this over the last 5 years, which hasn’t been many, I called my doctor. Health care seems to have changed in the last five years because I cannot get help from anybody.
My psychiatrist told me to go back onto the drug after I had been off it completely for a week and that’s all the advice she would give me. Nothing to help me with the withdrawals, no other advice, just drugs.
My GP, bless his heart, at least offered a practical solution to my sleep issue which has worked somewhat.
The rest I’ve had to figure out for myself. In this day and age you have to become the advocate for your own health care even if you feel like you don’t have the capacity to do so. And for someone like me who has been in the grips of one form of depression or another for the last few weeks that becomes pretty difficult. All I’m asking is that they ease my misery. Is that too much to ask?