At times it can be difficult for me to handle my medications. Because of the damage to my liver I am only on two medications. Latuda, which I take daily, and Lexapro, and anti -depressant that I only take in the event of depression. Otherwise, I rely heavily on physical activity and stimulation for my mind. Numbers help a lot. Anything with numbers, like playing dice, or doing math. (I love math.)
The difficulty comes when I am not sure if I am in a depression, or if the feelings I have are a result of intrusive thoughts and nightmares. It can be harmful for me to take anti-depressants if I am not depressed, as it would send me into a dis-phoric mania.
How do I tell the difference? Well, it starts with my interest in things I like to do. If I have none, it is most likely depression. If I have interest, especially if it is a strong desire to do something I like to do, then I know it is not depression. I also know it could turn into depression, which scares me. Of course, being afraid of depression is depressing and so I have to alleviate my fear and simply observe the feelings I am going through. Are my reactions to things those of a depressed person. No.
Not now. Right now and for the past few weeks since that miserable occurrence with my sister, I have been having intrusive thoughts, although no nightmares. I do wake up thinking about my sons, which I usually do, but it is a stressful feeling recently. Almost a panic. Everything that has happened in the past four years is up front in my mind. My sister wanted to talk about these things and I did talk with her for a few days until I told her no more.
It has become less and less, but this morning I woke up and it was like a tornado in my mind. It takes me a few minutes to get my bearings then. Not quite awake, but coming back to reality from some dream I don’t remember. And I am thinking of my son at this point, my youngest, and my heart is aching and I am angry and I am stumbling to the door to go outside and smoke a cigarette, which invariably makes me sick. I come back in and sit on the couch, but it’s misery, so I go back to bed and let myself cry.
And then is the reprieve. Like grief, coming in waves. Is that what it is? Grief?
I miss my sons.
Bi-Polar, ADHD, PTSD