I hope you’re able to find a way to grasp onto some form of stability.
It reminds me of trying to jump off a carousel; it’s spinning so fast that it never seems like a safe time to jump off, yet it keeps going faster and there’s no way off unless you jump.
I hope you can find a safe place to land.
For awhile I was also on Cymbalta, but had to stop because the side effects were just way too much.
Yeah, the side effects weren’t ideal for me either, although I could’ve lived with them. The only reason I stopped is because I didn’t think they were helping me any. I’m not completely unmedicated, though. Still on Methylfolate.
Does the Methylfolate seem to be helping?
Can you tell?
I swear I don’t notice any difference with my current dosage of Amitryptaline, and I’m hoping the doctor increases it.
If anything, I’m more depressed and suicidal than I was before.
That’s true, but, you see, nothing else is working for me. I’m plodding along in the dirt, plowing the same circle over and over again, all the while getting worse. That’s my every day. The definition of insanity, right?
Now, I see a tangent. They’re showing me a path, coming off and out of the circle. Way out. I’m so desperate I might just take it.
Idleness is death. Or at least, I think that that’s the expression.
I just remembered that I have an entire drawer in my room full of supplies from the last time the voices told me to dash. Not a complete set, though. Mostly medicines and twine and matches and stuff. As well as my knife. I guess I left the rest somewhere else.
Like all of my half-baked plans, though, I feel like this one will fail if I do decide to do it. But even if it does, I think that’s better than not trying.
Just in case though, I’m going to sleep on it. If this is just craziness, then maybe I’ll be less crazy in the morning. Although the voices are urgent and impatient. If this persists, then I’ll fold. No question.
I don’t feel better, but I am glad that I found those supplies. Still don’t know if I should actually follow through with this or not, but I’m going to sleep on it.
I just read some of the comments. Please don’t do anything bad. It seems like today was a rough day,,.. perhaps because of the sudden medication discontinuation. Nothing is worth hurting yourself. Have you spoke with your parents about restarting the Cymbalta… or replacing it with something else?
I think you might be a little confused. And that’s my fault. “Dashing” is my word for running off into the marsh. Not hurting myself.
Although I would love to hurt myself right now. But unfortunately that can’t be done.
It’s not your fault. I think fourteen hours of driving has given hiccups to my brain’s processing ability tonight. Please no running off into the marsh. I’m thankful that “dashing” doesn’t involve hurting yourself. I read your comment about a knife and twine being part of the supplies and I was worried. Now I’m relieved that it’s not what I thought it was.
I understand. Sometimes I try to connect the dots. If medication is the only thing that changed, I try to see if it’s related to what’s going on.
Haha, yeah, I imagine 14 hours of driving will do that to a person. Heck, two hours of driving will do that to a person.
And yeah, woah, sorry about that. I realize now that that comment couldve put something unfortunate across.
I know running off into the great blue wilderness is a foolish idea. But so is staying here, doing the same things everyday, and expecting things to get better. Not to mention, they’ll probably find me and drag me back out very quickly (to home or hospital). In fact, I know that they will. So I won’t die in there. I’ll just have accomplished what the voices wanted.
That makes sense. I mean, to be fair, I would’ve thought the same. Except I think all of this building-up stress, or the recent revelation about my father, are much more likely to have been the triggers. For my panic attack, that is.
No need to be sorry. It was important for me to make sure. The last thing I want is for you to be in a rough situation with the supplies in that drawer putting you at risk.
Have you talked with a doctor about what you’re hearing? There is medication available that could help with that. Perhaps it’s worth trying? Those voices have to be causing you grief. That isn’t cool, my friend.
If you do need help, and that involves a hospital, please get it. I know it might be hard sometimes but please don’t run away. That would make it worse.
I really don’t like panic attacks. Many things I can deal with okay. Not them. I can push through them but they are powerful for a bit.
Fourteen hours of driving gets you places… But it does fry the brain and the eyes! 🙂
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16 comments
I hope you’re able to find a way to grasp onto some form of stability.
It reminds me of trying to jump off a carousel; it’s spinning so fast that it never seems like a safe time to jump off, yet it keeps going faster and there’s no way off unless you jump.
I hope you can find a safe place to land.
For awhile I was also on Cymbalta, but had to stop because the side effects were just way too much.
Thanks, Cordless. I hope so too.
That carousel is a pretty nice example.
Yeah, the side effects weren’t ideal for me either, although I could’ve lived with them. The only reason I stopped is because I didn’t think they were helping me any. I’m not completely unmedicated, though. Still on Methylfolate.
Which, annoyingly, doesn’t have an easier name.
Does the Methylfolate seem to be helping?
Can you tell?
I swear I don’t notice any difference with my current dosage of Amitryptaline, and I’m hoping the doctor increases it.
If anything, I’m more depressed and suicidal than I was before.
I think it is. I’m not on solid ground just yet, but I think that’s not the med’s fault. It is helping, just slowly.
If you’re more depressed on the medicine, then that might be a sign of something bad. You might need to go off of it.
That sounds like intrusive thoughts. Always remember that you can choose to disagree with them.
That’s true, but, you see, nothing else is working for me. I’m plodding along in the dirt, plowing the same circle over and over again, all the while getting worse. That’s my every day. The definition of insanity, right?
Now, I see a tangent. They’re showing me a path, coming off and out of the circle. Way out. I’m so desperate I might just take it.
Idleness is death. Or at least, I think that that’s the expression.
I just remembered that I have an entire drawer in my room full of supplies from the last time the voices told me to dash. Not a complete set, though. Mostly medicines and twine and matches and stuff. As well as my knife. I guess I left the rest somewhere else.
Like all of my half-baked plans, though, I feel like this one will fail if I do decide to do it. But even if it does, I think that’s better than not trying.
Just in case though, I’m going to sleep on it. If this is just craziness, then maybe I’ll be less crazy in the morning. Although the voices are urgent and impatient. If this persists, then I’ll fold. No question.
Hi. I’m sorry for the late reply. It seems like maybe things are a little better? I hope so.
Don’t be sorry.
I don’t feel better, but I am glad that I found those supplies. Still don’t know if I should actually follow through with this or not, but I’m going to sleep on it.
I just read some of the comments. Please don’t do anything bad. It seems like today was a rough day,,.. perhaps because of the sudden medication discontinuation. Nothing is worth hurting yourself. Have you spoke with your parents about restarting the Cymbalta… or replacing it with something else?
I think you might be a little confused. And that’s my fault. “Dashing” is my word for running off into the marsh. Not hurting myself.
Although I would love to hurt myself right now. But unfortunately that can’t be done.
And I don’t think the Cymbalta is the problem.
It’s not your fault. I think fourteen hours of driving has given hiccups to my brain’s processing ability tonight. Please no running off into the marsh. I’m thankful that “dashing” doesn’t involve hurting yourself. I read your comment about a knife and twine being part of the supplies and I was worried. Now I’m relieved that it’s not what I thought it was.
I understand. Sometimes I try to connect the dots. If medication is the only thing that changed, I try to see if it’s related to what’s going on.
Haha, yeah, I imagine 14 hours of driving will do that to a person. Heck, two hours of driving will do that to a person.
And yeah, woah, sorry about that. I realize now that that comment couldve put something unfortunate across.
I know running off into the great blue wilderness is a foolish idea. But so is staying here, doing the same things everyday, and expecting things to get better. Not to mention, they’ll probably find me and drag me back out very quickly (to home or hospital). In fact, I know that they will. So I won’t die in there. I’ll just have accomplished what the voices wanted.
That makes sense. I mean, to be fair, I would’ve thought the same. Except I think all of this building-up stress, or the recent revelation about my father, are much more likely to have been the triggers. For my panic attack, that is.
No need to be sorry. It was important for me to make sure. The last thing I want is for you to be in a rough situation with the supplies in that drawer putting you at risk.
Have you talked with a doctor about what you’re hearing? There is medication available that could help with that. Perhaps it’s worth trying? Those voices have to be causing you grief. That isn’t cool, my friend.
If you do need help, and that involves a hospital, please get it. I know it might be hard sometimes but please don’t run away. That would make it worse.
I really don’t like panic attacks. Many things I can deal with okay. Not them. I can push through them but they are powerful for a bit.
Fourteen hours of driving gets you places… But it does fry the brain and the eyes! 🙂
This reply was waaaaay late. I’m usually good at checking the Dashboard so I’ll blame the eyes, or the driving, or any other excuse I can find.