What exactly do I do about my subjective distress, the extreme distress I have not been able to convey to the Dr.? I do exactly what I’ve always done, I do IT myself, and I do IT my way without regard for “the rules.” I got online to find out where I could buy medication I would like to try without a prescription. That would usually mean Canada or Mexico. I set my $59 to Mexico, I hope I get something in return, something other than a talcum powder capsule. Does that sound desperate? Then you’re beginning to get the idea. But it’s always complicated, always- always complicate. The medication I am currently taking needs to be washed out, that is discontinued for two weeks prior to starting the MAOI (monoamine oxidase inhibitor), to avoid possible serious hypertensive reactions. That would not be such a big deal except, right now, I feel okay and whenever I feel okay, the last thing I want to do is rock the boat. When and if that med arrives, I won’t dare take it until I start to dive again. It’s never been very long to that point in recent history, no matter what I’m taking. Of course, when I get to that point, two weeks with no medications and another two or three weeks climb to a therapeutic blood level will really be screwed-and what if it doesn’t work? Sometimes I feel like an angry victim of my biochemistry.
This is not the first time I’ve gone the do it myself route. Last time, by the time I ordered the medication the doctor had prescribed it. That was the Metformin. It is supposed to be protecting my brain. I’m really very fortunate to have the Dr. I have. He is not a psychiatrist, he is an internist, with many years of experience, who specializes in brain disorders – dementia, Alzheimer’s and who has written a book on bipolar disorder. When I’m depressed, I think I’m an especially big pain in the ass in my doctor’s mind, and he doesn’t like me. I think he’s going to tell me he will not work with me anymore, but of course he doesn’t. If in fact, if I’m hurting anyone, I’m hurting myself, not him. When I am not depressed, I know he likes me. He would probably consider me more interesting than anything else. Everything is colored like that when I’m depressed.
Today my anxiety is low. I look out at the plan for the day, and I’m just a little bit afraid I can’t do it. Other days I’m terrified and the more urgent it is that I get out the door, the more difficult it is.
I am better this week, much better. One of the barometers by which I gauge my mental state is the condition of my bedroom. It is the one area I will let entirely fall apart while I’m trying to juggle everything else. It is one place where I can just shut the door and it is like shutting the door on the condition of my mind. The bedroom has been a deteriorating mess for the past couple months, until the day before yesterday, when I spontaneously spent hours cleaning and arranging it. Now I can leave the door open, now it is okay to look inside my mind, like you are doing right now.