Kintsugi
Sponsor
Well, the circle is complete.
I probably disappeared from here early this year, during my last semester of graduate school. My cycle has been to resurface 2-4 weeks after a semester is over, stay till 6 weeks into the semester, then bob in and out of the forum until the final 4 weeks or so when I completely go MIA.
Last semester was different. Last Fall I was so strung out from working and going to school full time, my boss stayed an intervention with me after my last day of school, and that final night of turning in work had brought on a fullblown flashback the likes of which I hadn’t experienced in years. I burned myself with a cigarette that night to ground—still have the scars on my wrist. I’d been drinking A LOT that semester and eating very little. I lost one pound every week of that semester. The clothes I bought in September were hanging off of my bones by November. My boss felt like I might have a total breakdown if I continued to go to work and school every day of the week. I think she was right.
I checked out that winter break. Totally checked out. I was self-medicating with a variety of pills—benzos, neuropathy pills, opiates. Yep. There it is. I did not give a f*ck.
My first week of school last semester, I knew something was terribly wrong with me. I felt hypomanic, which I’ve only ever actually been once. My adrenaline and cortisol were at their ceiling constantly. I describe this to my therapist as constantly being in a room with a tiger. Things that would startle a normal person, like a near-miss accident, had no effect on me as my CNS already felt topped out on stress. It didn’t make any sense to me for about a week. Normally I feel pretty good at the beginning of the semester. I get an initial adrenaline rush that usually lasts the first four weeks, but it’s generally a helpful rush. It makes me super productive. I typically run out of steam 6 weeks in, then the real stress starts killing me at 8-10 weeks. I get depressed, suicidal, then I emerge like a psychotic phoenix from the depressed ashes to manically finish my school work while feeling like I’m going to actually drop dead at any moment.
I began desperately clawing for help. I’ve been trying to get assistance from the disabilities people at the university since I began school in 2016, but going back and forth between them and my T was frustrating and expensive and extremely time consuming due to my work and school schedules being so tightly packed. I reached out to a psychiatrist. I couldn’t pay for therapy; I finally paid off my therapy bills from spring 2017 early this summer. It was kind of a shit show.
I finally realized I was withdrawing from gabapentin. I didn’t realize I’d been taking it so regularly until that first week of school, when my symptoms were seriously kicking my ass. Let me tell you, never again.
So I stopped indiscriminately self-medicating. My system went back to normal levels (for me) of stress after a couple weeks. I also made the decision not to graduate last semester as I’m just a few classes away from snagging a second certification to complement my MA. That took a ton of stress off of me.
Last semester was absolutely fraught. I took a class that probably taught me more than any class I’ve ever taken, but it also about killed me. I experienced a weird head change, where no matter what, I felt completely apathetic towards school. That apathy caused me to go through these peaks of panic over my lack of panic. Professional opinions abound about this reaction. You’re clearly self-sabotaging, Simon. You think you’re worthless and scared of gaining value, Simon. You’re scared to graduate, Simon. You’re manufacturing stress because that’s your homeostasis, Simon. I think all of these things are probably accurate at once.
Anyway, this summer I just kind of got reacquainted with what it feels like to have the time and space to mentally collapse. Aside from someone attempting to ruin my reputation at work, and all the crazy emotions and fallout that accompanied that, I basically gave myself permission to stop running my mental engines at 7000rpm. I decided, finally, that I wasn’t going back to school this semester. I’m taking a break to try and get all of my shit in order so my last semester doesn’t kill me, and I’m optimistic that by waiting I’ll be able to get another full scholarship to complete my degrees this Spring.
But, on the other hand, taking a break has meant that I have the space to process loads of shit I’ve only marginally had the time to reflect on while I’ve been in this program. For those of you who know me, you may remember that I moved back in with my ex, started graduate school, did one year, broke up with him, moved out again, started a new relationship, and then I went back to school—all the while working full time and often volunteering here pretty intensely.
So this summer, I’ve processed quite the load of crap since I haven’t had any major life shake ups (aside from almost losing my f*cking job recently, of course).
So now, here I am, five months stretched out between me and the completion of graduate school, experiencing depression, avoidance, terrible nightmares, suicidal ideation... I stopped dissociating around this time last year, which frankly made everything worse for me because I was learning how to live life in the driver’s seat without that comfortable numb cushion between me and reality. But dissociation is even making a small comeback. Disordered sleep patterns of every type are crushing me: trouble falling asleep, extreme difficulty waking up, difficulty staying asleep. In cycles. The oversleeping more than anything has been worsening my depression and anxiety.
My P put me on trazedone. It worsened my nightmares, but it stabilizes my overall mood. Well, f*ck me, I’m hooked on them even though I hate them because of the nightmares and the dependency. He tried another medication to get me off of it—nope. All it did was make my libido super high before they started making me vomit. I have propranolol for anxiety, and I like them, but I can easily eat them like Skittles. The effect just isn’t enough for any real relief. Mostly, I f*cking hate these meds. The next time I see my P, I’m dropping the hammer. He asked me which drugs I wanted. I told him. He said let’s try mine for a few sessions. We did. Now it’s time to try mine, IMO—prazosin, ambien, and benzos. I resent the fact that I could buy a bottle of these pills off the street for the same cost as going to a psychiatrist, but after my little adventure with withdrawal, I’m trying to appreciate having a doctor who can oversee me. I don’t know. Gabapentin honest to god relieved all of my symptoms for those two weeks, so that’s an option I’m willing to try under close supervision. The point is, something’s gotta give, and I refuse to be on SSRIs or similar drugs because of the long term effects and potential side effects etc. Finding something that works has been a bitch. And my depression only seems to be getting worse. Not to mention I’m in an either/or situation with having a P or T; I can’t afford both. And therapy has been more helpful. But I also don’t want to resort to buying drugs on the street just in case I have a terrible episode and need to extinguish my suicidality super fast. Sigh.
Well, anyway, this turned into a super long post. Not sure if General or Education is appropriate, but there you have it: my update. I’m very glad I finally found the courage to reach out here again. This forum has been an invaluable resource that I so believe in.
I probably disappeared from here early this year, during my last semester of graduate school. My cycle has been to resurface 2-4 weeks after a semester is over, stay till 6 weeks into the semester, then bob in and out of the forum until the final 4 weeks or so when I completely go MIA.
Last semester was different. Last Fall I was so strung out from working and going to school full time, my boss stayed an intervention with me after my last day of school, and that final night of turning in work had brought on a fullblown flashback the likes of which I hadn’t experienced in years. I burned myself with a cigarette that night to ground—still have the scars on my wrist. I’d been drinking A LOT that semester and eating very little. I lost one pound every week of that semester. The clothes I bought in September were hanging off of my bones by November. My boss felt like I might have a total breakdown if I continued to go to work and school every day of the week. I think she was right.
I checked out that winter break. Totally checked out. I was self-medicating with a variety of pills—benzos, neuropathy pills, opiates. Yep. There it is. I did not give a f*ck.
My first week of school last semester, I knew something was terribly wrong with me. I felt hypomanic, which I’ve only ever actually been once. My adrenaline and cortisol were at their ceiling constantly. I describe this to my therapist as constantly being in a room with a tiger. Things that would startle a normal person, like a near-miss accident, had no effect on me as my CNS already felt topped out on stress. It didn’t make any sense to me for about a week. Normally I feel pretty good at the beginning of the semester. I get an initial adrenaline rush that usually lasts the first four weeks, but it’s generally a helpful rush. It makes me super productive. I typically run out of steam 6 weeks in, then the real stress starts killing me at 8-10 weeks. I get depressed, suicidal, then I emerge like a psychotic phoenix from the depressed ashes to manically finish my school work while feeling like I’m going to actually drop dead at any moment.
I began desperately clawing for help. I’ve been trying to get assistance from the disabilities people at the university since I began school in 2016, but going back and forth between them and my T was frustrating and expensive and extremely time consuming due to my work and school schedules being so tightly packed. I reached out to a psychiatrist. I couldn’t pay for therapy; I finally paid off my therapy bills from spring 2017 early this summer. It was kind of a shit show.
I finally realized I was withdrawing from gabapentin. I didn’t realize I’d been taking it so regularly until that first week of school, when my symptoms were seriously kicking my ass. Let me tell you, never again.
So I stopped indiscriminately self-medicating. My system went back to normal levels (for me) of stress after a couple weeks. I also made the decision not to graduate last semester as I’m just a few classes away from snagging a second certification to complement my MA. That took a ton of stress off of me.
Last semester was absolutely fraught. I took a class that probably taught me more than any class I’ve ever taken, but it also about killed me. I experienced a weird head change, where no matter what, I felt completely apathetic towards school. That apathy caused me to go through these peaks of panic over my lack of panic. Professional opinions abound about this reaction. You’re clearly self-sabotaging, Simon. You think you’re worthless and scared of gaining value, Simon. You’re scared to graduate, Simon. You’re manufacturing stress because that’s your homeostasis, Simon. I think all of these things are probably accurate at once.
Anyway, this summer I just kind of got reacquainted with what it feels like to have the time and space to mentally collapse. Aside from someone attempting to ruin my reputation at work, and all the crazy emotions and fallout that accompanied that, I basically gave myself permission to stop running my mental engines at 7000rpm. I decided, finally, that I wasn’t going back to school this semester. I’m taking a break to try and get all of my shit in order so my last semester doesn’t kill me, and I’m optimistic that by waiting I’ll be able to get another full scholarship to complete my degrees this Spring.
But, on the other hand, taking a break has meant that I have the space to process loads of shit I’ve only marginally had the time to reflect on while I’ve been in this program. For those of you who know me, you may remember that I moved back in with my ex, started graduate school, did one year, broke up with him, moved out again, started a new relationship, and then I went back to school—all the while working full time and often volunteering here pretty intensely.
So this summer, I’ve processed quite the load of crap since I haven’t had any major life shake ups (aside from almost losing my f*cking job recently, of course).
So now, here I am, five months stretched out between me and the completion of graduate school, experiencing depression, avoidance, terrible nightmares, suicidal ideation... I stopped dissociating around this time last year, which frankly made everything worse for me because I was learning how to live life in the driver’s seat without that comfortable numb cushion between me and reality. But dissociation is even making a small comeback. Disordered sleep patterns of every type are crushing me: trouble falling asleep, extreme difficulty waking up, difficulty staying asleep. In cycles. The oversleeping more than anything has been worsening my depression and anxiety.
My P put me on trazedone. It worsened my nightmares, but it stabilizes my overall mood. Well, f*ck me, I’m hooked on them even though I hate them because of the nightmares and the dependency. He tried another medication to get me off of it—nope. All it did was make my libido super high before they started making me vomit. I have propranolol for anxiety, and I like them, but I can easily eat them like Skittles. The effect just isn’t enough for any real relief. Mostly, I f*cking hate these meds. The next time I see my P, I’m dropping the hammer. He asked me which drugs I wanted. I told him. He said let’s try mine for a few sessions. We did. Now it’s time to try mine, IMO—prazosin, ambien, and benzos. I resent the fact that I could buy a bottle of these pills off the street for the same cost as going to a psychiatrist, but after my little adventure with withdrawal, I’m trying to appreciate having a doctor who can oversee me. I don’t know. Gabapentin honest to god relieved all of my symptoms for those two weeks, so that’s an option I’m willing to try under close supervision. The point is, something’s gotta give, and I refuse to be on SSRIs or similar drugs because of the long term effects and potential side effects etc. Finding something that works has been a bitch. And my depression only seems to be getting worse. Not to mention I’m in an either/or situation with having a P or T; I can’t afford both. And therapy has been more helpful. But I also don’t want to resort to buying drugs on the street just in case I have a terrible episode and need to extinguish my suicidality super fast. Sigh.
Well, anyway, this turned into a super long post. Not sure if General or Education is appropriate, but there you have it: my update. I’m very glad I finally found the courage to reach out here again. This forum has been an invaluable resource that I so believe in.