My days are feeling more normal. My life has a certain flow and predictability. But my mind is still not all there.
The loose connection between my mind and me doesn’t seem to be getting any tighter. This up and down and all around shit is getting old. I feel okay enough. I’m mostly able to take care of many daily tasks. I just want to stop focusing on my mental state and focus on nurturing my family.
Last week my psychiatrist suggested I take part in a Trauma Therapy Program at the hospital (an intensive four days a week/ eight week program) and also that I consider switching my SSRI for a different SSRI (to help with all the “fun” intrusive thoughts). This felt like a blow. Like, after all the hard work I’ve been doing, and all the strides I’ve made, I’m still so unwell that I need a medication overhaul and more intensive therapy? This didn’t feel good at all.
Lists can be fun. (maybe) Here are some reasons why I don’t want to do any of this:
1. I am ready to stop revisiting the past. I want to move forward in my new life.
2. I can’t really wrap my head around the fact that I ever suffered actual trauma. Nobody ever hit me.
3. Switching meds is risky and I could encounter bad side effects, withdrawal and it may not work for me. If the current SSRI is mostly helping and I’m the only one bothered by the thoughts, it would be selfish to put my family through a risky med change just to make myself possibly feel a bit better.
4. This specific program would require taking a two month leave from work. My daily routine is too important to screw with like that. Working keeps me grounded.
5. The medication that she recommends is Prozac and that sounds pretty scary because whenever the news says bad things about anti-depressants, I remember they always name Prozac (even though I know that just means it’s popular).
FINALLY: I think that I am mostly stable, so I want to stop being so selfish and not waste another breathe talking about my thoughts.
It’s true that I’m doing much better than I was. But it’s very frustrating that I’m still not well. I don’t know how to say this in a way that captures the intensity of this frustration. I don’t even know that I can ever expect to feel much better than this. I’m only 32 years old.
I’m sick of therapy. I’m sick of over-analyzing myself. I’m not that interesting. I’m sick and tired of traipsing around in my crazy mind.
Packing it in.