Last time I saw Sadie I suffered from An Embarrassment of Tears. I managed to not cry when I saw Brent last week, but am really apprehensive about seeing Sadie again this afternoon. I spent last night sobbing and suicidal, so either I’m going to cry again and feel embarrassed, or I’m going to not cry and feel ashamed that I’m not fully participating.
When I saw Brent he initially told me that he was making no changes and to return in a month. Then he hesitated and said he could increase the Lamictal since my dose is so low, and maybe that would help the depression that still pops up frequently. So I’m now taking 50 mg twice a day. Dose increases in the past have led to a few days of feeling agitated, anxious, and irritable, so I was unsurprised when that happened, but then when I’d been on the new dose a week and it hadn’t improved I realized that this feeling had actually started a few days before the dose increase.
I called Brent’s office and his nurse called me back so I could repeat the same things I’d said in my voicemail. She asked if I was having thoughts of hurting myself and I said no, because I wasn’t in that moment, but after she hung up to go talk to Brent I realized I probably should have said yes. The nurse called back a few minutes later and said that Brent wanted me to wait for my next appointment (in 3 weeks) but call back if things got worse. I hung up and burst into tears.
Brent had just commented to me on the fact that I tend to bottle things up and not ask for help, which leads to him and other practitioners being surprised when I am “suddenly” not doing well. Except when I asked for help, I got told it wasn’t bad enough yet. How am I supposed to know what bad enough is?
So I continued with my restless wandering and my snapping at mom over trivial annoyances. I continued feeling tense and nauseated and having my heart race over absolutely nothing. And I started taking more and more of my BuSpar. I’m prescribed 45 mg a day, but a couple of times in the past I had taken a little extra and Brent was not concerned by that so long as it didn’t happen regularly. Not sure what he’ll say about it being a lot extra for several days, but I’m sure it won’t be good.
The maximum daily dose is 60 mg. I took 115 mg yesterday. I laid in bed unable to sleep and fighting the urge to go swallow the whole bottle…and all the other bottles of pills in my possession. I fought the urge to make a long, deep cut in my flesh. I also fought the urge to call Deputy Wayne and sob to him about how horrible I am and how I should die, because it would just end up with me walking through the inpatient doors as a client again.
I’ve wanted to work there for two years and finally have some feeling that it might be possible. I’ve talked with a number of CMHC staff members about the idea of working in that field, even in their organization, and they all indicated that it would be okay. Brent said he currently has a client who works there. Sierra said she’s known other staff members who still need to be hospitalized a couple of times a year, and the rule is just that they need to go to a different facility to do it. I’ve submitted applications several times and recently wrote to the HR staff and explained why I think I’d be great for the job.
So going in as a client is not going to happen. Except it might, because I don’t see how it can be possible to work in that field. My dream was to work as a program assistant in inpatient while I finish up a BA in psychology, then work as a case manager while I get a master’s in counseling. Then I realize that I can’t actually do any of these jobs because I’m a shitty person who is unfit to help others. What’s the point of any of the plans I’ve been making, when I know they aren’t going to lead anywhere but to more misery?