Hello everyone, I recently joined the forums after lurking for a day or two. When I joined, I spent much of that morning talking to a few of you in the chat room. Honestly, just connecting with other people that understand what you are going through felt made me feel better than my recent therapy sessions.
I’m posting a little bit of history about myself in hopes perhaps some of you who have been dealing with PTSD and the health care system might be able to give me some advice about how to work out some of the issues I am struggling with. I normally wouldn’t open up this much, but when I spoke with some of you this morning it felt like the first time I’ve been able to really reach out and not feel terrible afterwords.
So… my situation: I first reached out for mental help around two years ago. I was working full time and trying to earn a degree online with a full time course schedule.
Before I began taking classes I struggled with weekly panic attacks and daily anxiety, but it was at a manageable level. After everything I had been through in my life, I felt like it was finally time for me to do what I wanted to do with my life. I felt like it was my time to succeed because I was finally free and it was all over. So, I started taking the courses online… I had quite a few successful semesters, but slowly the stress was breaking me down.
My weekly panic attacks became daily panic attacks, I felt like I was falling apart all the time and everything was the last straw. Finally, my loved ones urged me to see a doctor. The doctor spoke with me, had me see a counselor, then I was told I was diagnosed with PTSD. I was put on a low dose of Lexapro and a high dose of hydroxyzine (to help with anxiety, but mostly it was for a skin issue I have, so it doesn’t actually have much of a calming effect on me like it does for most people.) I saw the counselor again and she doubled my Lexapro dose because I was still experiencing anxiety and panic attacks after months on the meds.
With double the dose it lessoned my PTSD symptoms, but the counselor wanted me to see this guy she had sitting in on our sessions, whom she was training I believe, for those EMDR treatments. Well, not only was this guy not covered by my insurance, but after speaking with them about the treatments and doing research on my own I am VERY uncomfortable with these treatments… I went to see her again and she was insistent about me going, and I did not want to. So, I stopped seeing her, but continued my medication and continued seeing my doctor.
The medication killed my concentration… I couldn’t focus enough to do school, and all of my motivation was gone. I quit school, and after a short time it felt like the medication was robbing me of the few things I do like about myself. I couldn’t concentrate enough to read, I didn’t want to write anymore, and I couldn’t draw. In fact if it wasn’t for my family I probably would’ve quite contentedly sat there and stared into space for hours and hours doing absolutely nothing. I brought these concerns to my doctor, and her answer was just sort of, “but you’re not having as many panic attacks, right?” And it’s like, well, no, I’m not… of course after a conversation I had with some folks in the chatroom this morning I’m starting to wonder if the medication was causing me to dissociate more then I usually do? I often day dream or zone out anyway, but this was literally like… I was just there and nothing more, I felt like a ghost sometimes.
Since the doctor didn’t really address my issues, I just kept taking the medication thinking eventually I would level out. During this I went back to working full time, but I ended up finding a much better job that paid loads more, but it was a lot further away, a lot more hours, and a lot more stress. I thought this was finally my opportunity to become successful, and decided to go for it. I got the job, but again my absolutely shot concentration became a hindrance. So… I slowly weaned myself off the medication.
As I went off the medication I again began experiencing horrible panic attacks, especially in the mornings and in the car during my very long drive. I started to level out a little bit, but maybe a few months after fulling going off the medication (after having been on it for around a year) I got a terrible lung infection. I had to miss tons of work and got round after round of steroids and antibiotics, the doctor said if I hadn’t come in as much as I did it would have turned into pneumonia. I finally recovered enough to go back, but the very first day I became terribly ill at my stomach, so I was throwing up and panicking horribly.
I went home early and tried to recover, assuming that all the medication I had been on caused the stomach illness. However as days, then weeks went by, the illness didn’t budge. So back to the doctor I went, and they ran multiple tests including and endoscopy and colonoscopy, but didn’t find anything that explained the issues I’m having.
I have tried multiple diets to fix this, excluding all the different kinds of foods that can cause issues. Nothing has worked… so after losing the well paying job I had because I was too sick, I tried going back to my old job. They welcomed me back, but again, I had the same issue and lasted only two weeks because the driving caused the nausea/panic to be worse. They tried to work with me, and would still welcome me back with open arms, but I just couldn’t keep letting them down. I couldn’t be there reliably, and often when I was there I was so sick I couldn’t do anything. I often had to ask a family member to come and pick me up because I couldn’t drive myself and I would just sob and dry heave the whole way home… it was awful.
It’s been over six months at this point, and I still experience daily nausea, I puke multiple times a week, and I always have diarrhea. I often go days without eating, which, and trust me, is not like me at all. I absolutely love food, and I am a bigger girl. While it’s nice to lose weight, this is NOT how I wanted to lose it. If I had been smaller when this happened, I would be in serious trouble at this point, because I sometimes literally go two or three days without eating anything at all.
Ontop of that I experience daily panic attacks and have struggled with severe insomnia all of my life. I often get four hours or less of sleep at a time and often resort to taking mini naps versus actually sleeping. However, I will go through periods where I will sleep for practically twenty four hours. My physical and mental health has deteriorated, and at the urging of my spouses, I got onto food stamps and am seeking mental help through an income based facility.
I am pretty much at the point I have to bankrupt, I owe on school loans and my truck was repossessed, I owe a ton on credit cards, and medical bills. Thankfully the house and other important stuff is in my partners name, so we still have a place to live and we’re getting by, but we’re one person’s paycheck down and every single day is a struggle. They wanted me to get on food stamps right away and try to figure out disability, but the process absolutely terrifies me. I’m scared I’m going to jump through all of these hoops and get denied, which, denied or not, I cannot physically or mentally handle working at the moment. I hate it because I feel like I’m this massive burden on my family, and these are literally the only people who have ever been kind to me or done right by me in my entire life. I’ve been working since I was a teenager, and I always had this vision of making something of myself… even if it wasn’t necessarily what I loved to do, I just wanted to give my family a good life. I felt like by working hard and making money I was showing my love. Now I am less then useless… they are literally caring for me. If they weren’t here I wouldn’t be able to feed myself, somedays I wouldn’t even get out of bed and do basic things to care for myself.
Ontop of that I am CONSTANTLY flipping my shit all over them. Any little thing can send me into a panic, something as simple as one of them leaning in and speaking too loudly into my ear, or if I knock a drink over, or if I have to go somewhere. I get angry and unreasonable and it isn’t until I calm down an hour later that I realize what a massive psycho I am. I feel damaged and worthless and I’ve withdrawn completely from all the friends I’ve made since I moved here, my sisters, even friends I made in the online art community.
So presently, I’ve been to this clinic I was referred to by the department of human services. I’ve seen the same therapist twice, and she confirmed the PTSD diagnosis. This last time I went was terrible, she saw me at my absolute worst. It snowed here really bad and getting there was exceptionally difficult for me emotionally and physically. I had to keep stopping to pull over and puke and I was shaking and sweating. I hadn’t slept for over twenty four hours at that point, I was exhausted, and when she asked me what was wrong it just all came pouring out.
After this she ordered a psychiatric evaluation, and I’m absolutely terrified. I don’t know why she hadn’t ordered it earlier, and maybe she wants this eval because she thinks I’m so crazy I need to be locked up or something. She said she wanted to send me because she wanted me to get on medication, but the first time I spoke with her I explicitly told her I didn’t like the idea of medication. I’m terrified of being put on something and it making me even worse, or turning me into a zombie again. At the same time I don’t know how much longer I can keep living like this.
I also feel like I lied to her… she asked me about how much I thought about killing myself, and I way downplayed it. I admitted to her I tried to kill myself as a teenager, and that I cut as a teenager and as an adult, and that the last time I cut was when I was twenty five after my parents died. However I didn’t mention to her that S & J (my partners) had to get rid of the gun we had in the house because I had mentioned to them I was thinking about using it to kill myself so many times. It got to the point where I begged J to just take it to his Dads until he could sell it because I was terrified I’d use it to blow my brains out.
And the other thing I lied about is she doesn’t really know about the nature of my relationship to S & J. I’ve been with S for over ten years, we met J five years ago, and we’re in a polygamist relationship. They are my entire life, and I don’t know how I can get through therapy without being honest. I hate lying like this, I hate hiding myself at all because I’m just not freaking good at it. I know it’s weird and not traditional, and for us it has zero to do with religion or culture, it’s just that the three of us love each other. We’re not swingers, we’re not in an open relationship, we’re just three weirdos that found each other in this crazy world. We’re like these jagged broken pieces that, through some random cosmic miracle, happen to fit together perfectly.
So now I have an appointment with the doctor for the psych eval, an appointment to see that same counselor I saw the last two times, and an appointment to see the case worker all in one day. So, I don’t know how to proceed, I don’t know how to fix anything, and I don’t know if I can do this. I know this is long as hell, and I know it’s random and all over the place. There isn’t anyone in my life I can turn to that understands this.
I’m posting a little bit of history about myself in hopes perhaps some of you who have been dealing with PTSD and the health care system might be able to give me some advice about how to work out some of the issues I am struggling with. I normally wouldn’t open up this much, but when I spoke with some of you this morning it felt like the first time I’ve been able to really reach out and not feel terrible afterwords.
So… my situation: I first reached out for mental help around two years ago. I was working full time and trying to earn a degree online with a full time course schedule.
Before I began taking classes I struggled with weekly panic attacks and daily anxiety, but it was at a manageable level. After everything I had been through in my life, I felt like it was finally time for me to do what I wanted to do with my life. I felt like it was my time to succeed because I was finally free and it was all over. So, I started taking the courses online… I had quite a few successful semesters, but slowly the stress was breaking me down.
My weekly panic attacks became daily panic attacks, I felt like I was falling apart all the time and everything was the last straw. Finally, my loved ones urged me to see a doctor. The doctor spoke with me, had me see a counselor, then I was told I was diagnosed with PTSD. I was put on a low dose of Lexapro and a high dose of hydroxyzine (to help with anxiety, but mostly it was for a skin issue I have, so it doesn’t actually have much of a calming effect on me like it does for most people.) I saw the counselor again and she doubled my Lexapro dose because I was still experiencing anxiety and panic attacks after months on the meds.
With double the dose it lessoned my PTSD symptoms, but the counselor wanted me to see this guy she had sitting in on our sessions, whom she was training I believe, for those EMDR treatments. Well, not only was this guy not covered by my insurance, but after speaking with them about the treatments and doing research on my own I am VERY uncomfortable with these treatments… I went to see her again and she was insistent about me going, and I did not want to. So, I stopped seeing her, but continued my medication and continued seeing my doctor.
The medication killed my concentration… I couldn’t focus enough to do school, and all of my motivation was gone. I quit school, and after a short time it felt like the medication was robbing me of the few things I do like about myself. I couldn’t concentrate enough to read, I didn’t want to write anymore, and I couldn’t draw. In fact if it wasn’t for my family I probably would’ve quite contentedly sat there and stared into space for hours and hours doing absolutely nothing. I brought these concerns to my doctor, and her answer was just sort of, “but you’re not having as many panic attacks, right?” And it’s like, well, no, I’m not… of course after a conversation I had with some folks in the chatroom this morning I’m starting to wonder if the medication was causing me to dissociate more then I usually do? I often day dream or zone out anyway, but this was literally like… I was just there and nothing more, I felt like a ghost sometimes.
Since the doctor didn’t really address my issues, I just kept taking the medication thinking eventually I would level out. During this I went back to working full time, but I ended up finding a much better job that paid loads more, but it was a lot further away, a lot more hours, and a lot more stress. I thought this was finally my opportunity to become successful, and decided to go for it. I got the job, but again my absolutely shot concentration became a hindrance. So… I slowly weaned myself off the medication.
As I went off the medication I again began experiencing horrible panic attacks, especially in the mornings and in the car during my very long drive. I started to level out a little bit, but maybe a few months after fulling going off the medication (after having been on it for around a year) I got a terrible lung infection. I had to miss tons of work and got round after round of steroids and antibiotics, the doctor said if I hadn’t come in as much as I did it would have turned into pneumonia. I finally recovered enough to go back, but the very first day I became terribly ill at my stomach, so I was throwing up and panicking horribly.
I went home early and tried to recover, assuming that all the medication I had been on caused the stomach illness. However as days, then weeks went by, the illness didn’t budge. So back to the doctor I went, and they ran multiple tests including and endoscopy and colonoscopy, but didn’t find anything that explained the issues I’m having.
I have tried multiple diets to fix this, excluding all the different kinds of foods that can cause issues. Nothing has worked… so after losing the well paying job I had because I was too sick, I tried going back to my old job. They welcomed me back, but again, I had the same issue and lasted only two weeks because the driving caused the nausea/panic to be worse. They tried to work with me, and would still welcome me back with open arms, but I just couldn’t keep letting them down. I couldn’t be there reliably, and often when I was there I was so sick I couldn’t do anything. I often had to ask a family member to come and pick me up because I couldn’t drive myself and I would just sob and dry heave the whole way home… it was awful.
It’s been over six months at this point, and I still experience daily nausea, I puke multiple times a week, and I always have diarrhea. I often go days without eating, which, and trust me, is not like me at all. I absolutely love food, and I am a bigger girl. While it’s nice to lose weight, this is NOT how I wanted to lose it. If I had been smaller when this happened, I would be in serious trouble at this point, because I sometimes literally go two or three days without eating anything at all.
Ontop of that I experience daily panic attacks and have struggled with severe insomnia all of my life. I often get four hours or less of sleep at a time and often resort to taking mini naps versus actually sleeping. However, I will go through periods where I will sleep for practically twenty four hours. My physical and mental health has deteriorated, and at the urging of my spouses, I got onto food stamps and am seeking mental help through an income based facility.
I am pretty much at the point I have to bankrupt, I owe on school loans and my truck was repossessed, I owe a ton on credit cards, and medical bills. Thankfully the house and other important stuff is in my partners name, so we still have a place to live and we’re getting by, but we’re one person’s paycheck down and every single day is a struggle. They wanted me to get on food stamps right away and try to figure out disability, but the process absolutely terrifies me. I’m scared I’m going to jump through all of these hoops and get denied, which, denied or not, I cannot physically or mentally handle working at the moment. I hate it because I feel like I’m this massive burden on my family, and these are literally the only people who have ever been kind to me or done right by me in my entire life. I’ve been working since I was a teenager, and I always had this vision of making something of myself… even if it wasn’t necessarily what I loved to do, I just wanted to give my family a good life. I felt like by working hard and making money I was showing my love. Now I am less then useless… they are literally caring for me. If they weren’t here I wouldn’t be able to feed myself, somedays I wouldn’t even get out of bed and do basic things to care for myself.
Ontop of that I am CONSTANTLY flipping my shit all over them. Any little thing can send me into a panic, something as simple as one of them leaning in and speaking too loudly into my ear, or if I knock a drink over, or if I have to go somewhere. I get angry and unreasonable and it isn’t until I calm down an hour later that I realize what a massive psycho I am. I feel damaged and worthless and I’ve withdrawn completely from all the friends I’ve made since I moved here, my sisters, even friends I made in the online art community.
So presently, I’ve been to this clinic I was referred to by the department of human services. I’ve seen the same therapist twice, and she confirmed the PTSD diagnosis. This last time I went was terrible, she saw me at my absolute worst. It snowed here really bad and getting there was exceptionally difficult for me emotionally and physically. I had to keep stopping to pull over and puke and I was shaking and sweating. I hadn’t slept for over twenty four hours at that point, I was exhausted, and when she asked me what was wrong it just all came pouring out.
After this she ordered a psychiatric evaluation, and I’m absolutely terrified. I don’t know why she hadn’t ordered it earlier, and maybe she wants this eval because she thinks I’m so crazy I need to be locked up or something. She said she wanted to send me because she wanted me to get on medication, but the first time I spoke with her I explicitly told her I didn’t like the idea of medication. I’m terrified of being put on something and it making me even worse, or turning me into a zombie again. At the same time I don’t know how much longer I can keep living like this.
I also feel like I lied to her… she asked me about how much I thought about killing myself, and I way downplayed it. I admitted to her I tried to kill myself as a teenager, and that I cut as a teenager and as an adult, and that the last time I cut was when I was twenty five after my parents died. However I didn’t mention to her that S & J (my partners) had to get rid of the gun we had in the house because I had mentioned to them I was thinking about using it to kill myself so many times. It got to the point where I begged J to just take it to his Dads until he could sell it because I was terrified I’d use it to blow my brains out.
And the other thing I lied about is she doesn’t really know about the nature of my relationship to S & J. I’ve been with S for over ten years, we met J five years ago, and we’re in a polygamist relationship. They are my entire life, and I don’t know how I can get through therapy without being honest. I hate lying like this, I hate hiding myself at all because I’m just not freaking good at it. I know it’s weird and not traditional, and for us it has zero to do with religion or culture, it’s just that the three of us love each other. We’re not swingers, we’re not in an open relationship, we’re just three weirdos that found each other in this crazy world. We’re like these jagged broken pieces that, through some random cosmic miracle, happen to fit together perfectly.
So now I have an appointment with the doctor for the psych eval, an appointment to see that same counselor I saw the last two times, and an appointment to see the case worker all in one day. So, I don’t know how to proceed, I don’t know how to fix anything, and I don’t know if I can do this. I know this is long as hell, and I know it’s random and all over the place. There isn’t anyone in my life I can turn to that understands this.
