I am still surviving. Barely. This is not what life is supposed to be like. I feel like every single day is a fight. A fight to suppress the suicidal thoughts. A fight to try to be a good wife and mother. A fight to even get out of bed.
I have been taking my medication regularly. The new psychiatrist changed it again and added in an anti anxiety medicine that is supposed to help with my sleep and lessen the nightmares. I have been seeing a new counselor and I feel like we are making a lot of good progress. In the past my counselors just let me talk for an hour but this woman actually does worksheets and exercises and stuff. Yesterday we went through the progression of the suicidal thoughts (what triggers them, how I respond, and what I do) then we went through the same progression with healthy ways to react at each step. I now have this sheet of paper that tells me how to respond to triggers, thoughts, and pain.
The problem is I don’t feel well. Physically I just don’t feel well. I am dizzy, my vision is getting worse, and I have daily headaches. I saw my family practice doctor Wednesday who treats my anemia. He tests my iron every month to catch it before it gets really bad again. He said that the symptoms are probably side effects from increasing/adding medications. He did say my heart rate has been lower every time he sees me and he was actually concerned with how low it has gotten but that he doesn’t want to do anything until they think my body has adjusted to the new medication.
I know this post is pretty negative and as I was reading some posts by blogs I follow this morning, they were positive and talked about healing and recovery. The problem is I’m not there yet. I haven’t recovered, I am still struggling. Hell I’m not even stable.
But I will be one day. That’s the only reason I am still alive today. I believe that one day I will be okay. One day I will wake up and not loathe my self, or my diagnosis.
I am still holding on for that one day.