That is my fate. As a social misfit I live a hermit-like existence and that fcuks you up. They gave me Zoloft on Friday and guess what – within 2 hours of going to bed I was wide awake [and in a terror induced cold sweat at the thought of a long long empty day] When you are a deeply depressed deeply anxious hermit the last thing you need is more hours to kill. I already have serious trouble doing that. I expect to develop psychosis like so many other poor, socially isolated individuals. Suicidal depression is one thing, and I can kinda live with it, but loss of sanity is something else.
I’ve been struggling with depression, anxiety and dermatillomania ever since I was a little girl. I’ve been taking zoloft for a couple of weeks and I wish that I could take all 30 of them. I doubt it’ll do anything to me though.
I was started on lithium and gabapentin I’m the psych ward and have had crazy shakiness ever since. I’m also on Zoloft, seraquel and trazadone. I stopped the lithium and gab cold turkey about a week ago but still have the shakes. Makes me want to blow my head off. I didn’t take seraquel last night to see if it helps but I wasnt able to sleep but 1&1/2. Anybody else have this problem? What do I do? Feel like I’m going crazy… again
Since my plans have been put into motion, I thought I would make one last attempt for help and saw my doctor today. Proscribed me 150mg of Wellbutrin to go along with my 200mg of Zoloft. Maybe the new drug will have an effect. Maybe I’ll quit smoking before I blow my brains out. Who knows! Better read up on this drug and see what i’m getting into.
So i have been diagnosed with postpartum depression and put on zoloft….anybody have experience with this antidepressant? I’m just looking to see any side effects any one experienced and how long it took to kick in? Did it make the suicidal thoughts better or worse? Just any info/real experience is appreciated
I have deep depression. I feel suicidal from time to time. I have stopped taking zoloft for personal reason. I am waiting for the day that I lose control and take action. But, I want to know what do you do when you are suicidal?
Bottle of wine, TV noise background, inactivity on Facebook, Zoloft & HIV antiretroviral meds, GB & purp, living with parents unemployed, degree-less as a college drop-out, making impulsive decisions I cannot fight that will land me in PRISON, all at I-95’s biggest pothole on a Saturday night the weekend before turning 28 wasting my time talking with people who want to chat and string me along instead of actually taking action and meeting…this is real life?
Sure, I got this…… #steadymobbin
I’ve come to the realization that living with theseÂ suicidalÂ thoughts will probably never go away. This is my first time trying out an online community for suicide/depression or what have you because I feel I am running out of options. I feel I have no one who I can talk to in my life about these issues due to the deep shame that comes with them. Even though I feel I have a good support system, I don’t like feeling like I’mÂ burdeningÂ those I love with all this I go through on a daily basis.
Getting to the point, I’ve realized that I am too scared to actually harm myself with the intention of ending my life because I am too scared that I will survive the ordeal and end up in a way worse situation that I am now. So my question is, does anyone else feel this way? Has anyone accepted their situation like I have and found outlets that make life bearable and meaningful? I know it sounds like an oxymoron but….
A littleÂ background, I am 23, and I have tried almost everything, even taking pills to end my life but chickening out last minute.Â journaling,Â cutting, abusing drugs, partying, repression, sleeping all day, cognitive-behavioral exercises, exercising,Â immersingÂ myself in work/school/volunteering, crying, seeing therapists, psychiatrists, I’m currently on Zoloft and myÂ shrinkÂ wants to put me on Wellbutrin ….I have had moments where I feel happy and I feel I am actually making progress, but then I have moments where I just want peace and wish I could just drift into eternal sleep…and I feel even more pathetic knowing i’m too scared to end my own life…
Before I start, here’s some background…clinically depressed 31 yr old female, on 30mg citalopram (celexa) for the last 3+ years, last 6-9 months been feeling progressively worse, last 3 months suicidal, changed to sertraline (Zoloft) 6 weeks ago.
at the moment I feel, we’ll, not much really, not happy, not sad, not suicidal. Uninterested I guess. I find it difficult to concentrate for long, flit from thing to thing, and can’t really say I get any enjoyment out of anything I do…not that I dislike what I’m doing – I guess this could almost be a feeling of contentment(?!) apart from one thing. I feel like my life (if you can call it that) is already over. I feel ancient. Tired. Like I’ve missed all my opportunities and its just too late for me now.
Is that still the depression, or is that just me? How would I know, how can I know if that’s me or the drugs? I don’t know how to shake it 🙁 even though I feel “ok” at the mo, that feeling makes me want to kill myself.
Zoloft a drug prescribed in so many western societies to deal with a range of health issues particularly depression and anxiety. Zoloft for me is not what I expected. I thought I’d feel happier, I do in a way but I don’t feel any less sad or miserable. I know I should kill myself but I can’t Zoloft has taken that from me. So now I’m stuck in a mood where nothing truly matters, I should give up. So tired…..
I’m finally done. I just can’t stop the madness in my head. I tried all kids of meds. Zoloft, xanax, paxil, Prozac, etc. this list goes continues. Every shrink diagnoses me with the same thing, major depressive disorder and generalized and socialized anxiety. I think hospitalization would only out me in a worse mental state. Talking sometimes helps but mainly I can’t focus that long. Breathing exercises would be eat if I could take a deep breathe. Sure there are circumstances that depress me but there always is and always will be. It’s my own self, my own head. Nothing helps me. No one can help me. After more than 15 years, I’ve felt this way, I don’t have anymore in me. I’m not looking for sympathy or jokes or even asking the best way to go. I just needed to write it down. I do think about my family and the 2 friends that have stuck by me. I thrill of my 11 month niece that won’t know me her auntie. I don’t want anyone to find me. I will leave letters for those who meant the most and I will simply disappear for a stranger to find later.
I can’t keep hoping everything will take a turn. No matter what my therapist or family tell me, I let hope go a long time ago.
I cry because I know the only way out. I cry because I have no future. I cry randomly.
I pop a pill prescribed for panic attacks and anxiety. Klonapin. Oh my.
I shouldn’t have to take a zoloft, 3 buspar and 2 klonapin to get through every day.. So lets take my days away. I want to leave and feel pain. Then I’d feel.. I’d feel happy. Relief. Happy. Relief. Happy. Relief. Happy…? Relief…?
Part 1 can be read by clicking my name and selecting part one. Summary wise part one was an account of early life into middle school. Who I was and how I was and what I went through and how I held up hope. This part two will be the same but from high school.
In 8th grade things were nearly on the line. I was by this time seeing a paid therapist who seemed like she was listening but she wasn’t And when I reached 10th grade her doctor friend (who was a beauty) who gave me zoloft and kept a careful eye on me and my moods. For a while I was doing well on Zoloft and I was still me I just smiled more like I usually do.
But let’s back up to 9th grade. 6-8th grade my middle school introduced transitioning to get us ready for the drastic change in high school. I struggled with that alone with everything else. But when I reached 9th grade it became semi second nature. Semi because I had to share a locker with someone I didn’t like. I didn’t hate the girl, but I didn’t like how she treated people. I didn’t adjust well though when it came to the social dynamic of it all. Always changing classes and never having a person you could connect with, the heavy text books you had to carry which made your arms nearly fall off. But in truth the classes didn’t change enough. Because 9th grade was the worst year.
I was doing alright with school work to start the 9th grade year. I managed an A and Bs and Cs still up and down Ds in math as always. The teachers were ok but math was abit bad. It was a language barrier thing because she happened to also be a french teacher. Everyone understood her enough, I still didn’t no matter what I did. I eventually went back to drawing. Something that also helped me in middle school to manage during the boring times. The teacher didn’t care much until it was time to turn in homework. My problems were wrong and my hand writing wasn’t good. She gave me the grade and like always I threw my paper away. Phys ed was…horrible. Horrible because the girls didn’t do anything but dance on the stage to rap music and talk about what boyfriend they were eyeing or banging or how sexy blah blah blah all that kind of stuff. The gym teacher didn’t care. He was busy using gym time to train the boys for basketball. They ran suicides, played 21 and did regular run in place jumping jack type exercises. When I asked if I could join….LOL yea I fell on deaf ears. I stayed near the stage with the rest of the girls. Pissed and upset. The girls started turning up the music and putting in CDs of songs that kind of should not have been played in the gym but they weren’t bad either. They hip rolled, popped, and kept lifting up their shirts to show off their flat stomach (moderately flat) as they danced. If I had been a few shades lighter I would have been caught blushing at the spectacle. I just tried not to look. Sadly I was eventually discovered by one of the girls who slapped me in the back of the head when she realized I didn’t take my eyes off one dancer. All I could think was oh shit in my head. The questions came. A few were legitimate but the rest were downright rude. The girl in question started avoiding me like a leper. I felt ashamed but confused as to why there weren’t alot of people like myself. I was outnumbered with a total attendance of 100 or 200 students in the school. Word got out fast. The boys started asking their ego inflating questions and kept offering to show themselves. I really don’t want to see that mess.
This was also the time I discovered some boy liked me. He was tall light skinned, wore glasses lanky and kind of stiff when he walked. I thought he was cool until he told me I was a sick person and was some type of freak to him. He like the rest abused me when they got the chance. He slapped me quite hard and a few times threw an over inflated basketball at my face. Everyone just laughed and the teacher didn’t take it seriously when I complained. I did something though that I regret and glad I learned fast. I tried to go with a boy at this school. His name I’ll call “Tom”. I thought he was beautiful with his beaver teeth, cocked eyes, tall and wide frame and the fact that we shared some things in common. He didn’t like me but he didn’t say it out loud. I tried to play with him and hug him. But he didn’t like that I played rough, he took advantage of that quite often. He verbally abused me in front of the class and the teacher in this one was a bit sterner but it didn’t have much affect on him doing it again. We got into physical fights often. One was playing but it escalated and he broke my finger. The other was started by myself because he kept throwing my text books off the desk when I wanted to study with him. I had had enough at slapped him with a closed fist. Not punch a slap. He rebound punched me be I could figure out what happened. EVeryone laughed and teased. His mother never scolded him and took him home. MY mother told me I should have been killed. Then another boy. One I had knew since I played golf with a young kids league. I felt I could trust him since he knew what I was going through. I trie dto date him and would kiss him in the halls after everyone was in class. KIssing him was uncomfortable but I figured all girls feel the same and do it anyway. Then he tried to make a pass. A pass I could not forget. I follwoed him down the unused hall to the lunch room (that bad part about having a huge scholl with few students) and we walked into an abandoned classroom. I was curious as to why we were here but he kissed me. He tried to lift me up and that’s when my inner male kicked in. I let myself be dead weight and he nearly hurt his back. I wanted to know what the hell he thought he was doing and he said he wanted to taste me. Suffice to say my hackles raised in anger and feared and I proceeded to leave but he grabbed my arm. Being stronger physically than most women I resisted his pull until he gave up. He ripped my sweater and destroyed my sense of security. THat was when I started cutting. My parents had shown me at an early age that I can only fear them not trust them. So I never told them about it. Cutting is what I used to get by along with listening to Linkin park, and drawing demons. Most of the time that year was spent crying. Just like all my life. And people made fun of it. My art saved me those years since I didn’t have much else. Everyone feared the demons I drew. They were vivid and since I was in a wananabe Catholic school the holier than thou black teachers preached about this and that. That’s when I closed my heart and opened fresh wounds on my body.
When I reached 10th grade at a new school (my grades were too low for anywhere else) things started off slow again. This school was more diverse. There were Caldeans, A few Asians, A few Caucasions, Muslims, Spanish and just a mix of people. I was excited to be amongst diversity for a change. The school year wasn’t that bad work wise. I wasn’t doing the best like always but I was doing. The pressures came from home and from looking for a relationship. In my oldest post I often mention one of my natural goals. A wonderful wife. It was my dream to be married, adopt some children and a dog and learn and grow with my family. So I was always actively looking for prospects for what I thought a good wife entailed. I was still rejected in this school but I wasn’t so ACTIVELY teased like I was at the last school. Their were actual people above teasing and even frowned at it. Of course they never did much to help but neither did they participate. We were more of a community. I could handle that well and began to open up some to others. I discovered here that their were lesbians and bi’s and pretty much different queer people like myself so I did what I could to try and get with this community that was established before I got here. That didn’t work at all. I was constantly pushed away because I’m by nature very masculine in manner even if I can discuss things women usually talked about. Because I didn’t fit a “standard” I was looked at as an outsider. I tried to woo this one girl. She was possibly puerto rican mixed with african american. Whatever she was she was beautiful. She seemed quite bright too just by being in her presence. But she didn’t talk to me much. She had a friend who I later discovered was a lot closer than I imagined and yet it confused me. She was her best friend and some type of lover but was technically not her girl friend. I didn’t understand so I continued to persue her. I wrote her love lettersm poems, I made her drawings. She said this is nice and gave them back to me. I was lost as to what that was supposed to mean. That December in 11th grade (same school) I bought her earrings. She loved them and I had the priveldge to see her eyes glow even though i forgot to take the tag off (bad habit). I got my only hug from her that time. It felt comfortable to be in her embrace. She smelled good and she was 4’5 or 6 so I had to lean over a bit. It gave me my dimming hope a big brighten. But the hope started to whittle as I was always kept away from her by her friend. It takes me a lot of courage to walk up to a girl who has a huge group around her. But If I want it I’ll do what I can to get it. And fail. She wasn’t allowed to talk, and barely defended me as her friend and a nearby bully started pestering me. I was at a loss for words. It sent my already close depression in the ground again. I scraped along each day hanging with a new friend I met in 10th grade. He taught me a lot of things but we were honestly in similar situations. We weren’t attractive, very intelligent, depressed and respectful of our parents rules. We hadn’t done drugs or drinking but we both craved to be bad. We eventually were.
I started to wear my clothes like I wanted in school. Untucked polo shirt and low riding dockers. Most teachers didn’t say much except the principal who turned blue when upset. When he finally was allowed to drive his parents car he took me from my hell as often as he could. We went to the mall, the store, or when we met a new friend who was also like us, we travelled to the suburbs and visited our friend to rescue him. We rode the bike trail, started smoking cigarettes because I physically looked older that I was. We cried alot to near the docks. smoking and crying. They had help me over come the stupid girls I kept trying to date online. The prozac facial twitches I was experiencing and overall odd tremors. We all wanted to commit suicide. We all wanted to be free and loved. But our families hated us, society didn’t want us, and we couldn’t keep our heads above water alot of the time.
Of the three of us I ended up still behind. Like always. One friend the one who was our age but was short due to late puberty ended up getting hooked on drugs. He happens to be intelligent like us so he always shared the pros and cons of the drugs he did. I miss his semi-emotionlessness and true knowledge. The other has been trying to fit in with local society. He doesn’t care anymore. He dresses like everyone else now. Baggier pants, hoodies and more rap music. He doesn’t like anime anymore. Not regular anyway. And he betrayed my trust a few too many times when it came to entrusting him with my video games which meant alot to me and also helped keep me afloat in the lavas of hell. I grew up and realized who you surround yourself is a show of your own integrity. I don’t like liers or cheaters, manipulators and such. I miss both my friends but I needed to let them go on with their own lives and maybe we’ll cross roads again.
12th grade was a reflection of 9th grade. Only I was more actively suicidal. This was a new school since I failed at the last school yet somehow the new school let me into the 12th grade anyway. Thanks. Earlier mornings were when I was bullied along with another boy I knew from an older school. He smiled while he did it. Like a Cheshire cat with the caterpillars’ haze in his eyes. He bothered me every chance he got in the halls and just like everywhere else I wasnt widely accepted. The few who did tried to keep me going to best they knew how. They knew when my mood changes. Like a light switch the life of the party leaves home and all that is left is an empty vessel. They tickle me or play rough with me (i like a show of strength even from girls) or they let me be but kept an eye on me. Their were a few teachers who kept the bullying under control as best they could if it happened in their class, but ultimately the bully would get completely kicked out to avoid disturbing everyone else. I made it through this time with more art, heavy metal and still talking with my close friends from 10 and 11th. I tried smoking weed around this time. I like the smoke but the weed had no effect on me. I wanted to try other drugs but my bio mom’s “history” made it too risky to even try the hard stuff once. I gracefully declined.
I graduated high school. It wasn’t a bout of happiness. It was a relief. I was finally going to get that one year of rest I wanted to have so I could move on. Thanks parents for ruining that for me. I was forced into trade school or I would be thrown out on the streets which I would have committed suicide then too. I failed the prelimenary test for this school so I was thrown into the reeducation program.I was 6th grade or abit less in math and it was not enough. In this class I met a beautiful girl who was differnet than I had ever seen. She looked like an angel that fell from heaven and was sitting in the class in front row. During a lunch break I had walked to the hostess shop to buy a box of nutri-grains bars and when I came back she was still sitting there. I looked at my big box and the her and asked her simple if she would like to have some. We became friends from then on since I discovered to a slight disappointment that she was straight and engaged. We had a lot in common in terms of being disabled. She had albanism which is why she looked like an angerl and she had astigmatism in her eyes which made her legally blind. Her vision resembled mine when my glasses came off. And we had made it this far. We grew closer and one day I had the chance to meet fiance who lived with her. Just like when I meet any new male I give them the testing eye to see what they are worth. IT didn’t take long before we too were best of friends and I realized the me and he were like brothers from another mother. Our past is similar. Just change race, location, and a few other things.
I’m going to stop for now and write about the present in part 3 when I’m not so tired.
The things from high school that I used to cope were friends, video games, music, nature, hopes at love, art and food.
Read this sentence, then close your eyes, take a deep breath and relax……Don’t worry.Â You are highly intelligent and as long as you stay focused on what you want to do and how you want to live, you will find a way to accomplish these things.Â You have a tendencyÂ to worry more than you need.Â I’m sure everything will be different and disorienting at first, but you’ll be back to your personal routine in no time.Â I am always here 919 381 2658.Â I don’t want you to risk contacting me anymore than is necessary, but know that I am always here and nothing has changed.Â I am doing fine and looking forward to seeing you the second the opportunity arises.Â You are NEVER too far away and as time goes on you will have more and more freedoms.Â Â I think of you every hour of everyday and it makes me smile.Â I smile because I know in our memories and thoughts, we are together.Â I WILL see you again Riley.Â I promise you this.Â I will keep communicating my thoughts and actions through this site and my web site.Â Â I’m sorry your summer was so ridiculously “rocky”.Â I’m interested to know what your shrinks told you was “wrong” with you, me, us?Â Don’t worry, the Prozac won’t kill you.Â I take my 50mg. of Zoloft every morning.Â I am a little less “keyed up”, but also a little more focused.Â Don’t lose touch.Â I miss you terribly.Â When you lay down at night, whisper your thoughts, so I can hear them and I’ll do the same.Â We don’t have gods to pray to, so we might as well pray to each other. :)Â I’ll see you soon, Riley.Â EnjoyÂ your new adventures and make sure to keep me posted.
Just posting this if anyone decides to care: If there are any caring people left in this world.
For two years i’ve been taking Zoloft for my OCD and depression. January I was put on Lamictal for bipolar disorder.Â I hate itÂ I just end up throwing up the medicine and the food in my stomach.Â Some therapists say this is a good thing but for a while my emotions have been fading. AllÂ I amÂ able to do is be sad,Â I used to have very bad anger problems. Lately I cant even stick up for myselfÂ I finally decided to drop the medicine. I want my emotions back. With my anger i’ll probably be getting in trouble alot again. I’d rather get in trouble for defending myself then get walked on.Â I cant wait for this. I miss the feeling ofÂ being so angry to sad to having the high feeling I would always get. I need to feel it again, maybe if I feel it it will remind me that I am a person and I am alive still.
So far, society has made an attempt to “fix me” with non-applicable laws, jesus, Zoloft and a host of other inventions to keep the masses from free-thinking. I guess society was hoping that one of these things would “take hold”, but I’ve had too long to think for myself. I’ve had an epiphany. I’m not the one who’s FU(K!NG BROKEN! Now I’m a problem. I feel justified in my thoughts and actions. I cannot be easily controlled. I question everything. I insist on relying on my own research and take nothing at face value. This is a problem for the ones who govern us and the ones who preach to us. Our society deteriorates us. Each generation suffering more than the previous. Are we to think that god or gov’t will save us? Are they not the ones to blame for most of our suffering? Don’t take my word for it, do your own research. Draw your own conclusions. I am not the only one who sees the world with clarity. Zeitgeist the movie, is a good place to start. If you don’t have time for a movie: “How science saved my soul” is a fifteen minute concept that is free to view on Youtube.
Since I was young my parents wanted me on medicine along with therapy. Since I didn’t have a choice I took them. as prescribed until I came down with the worse side affects. Zoloft the robotic smiles, Prozac this motor tics, Amitriptiline the chest rock and zombie mind.
My father. I’ve prayed he should die since whatever this is has taken over him. He’s teasing is worse and he thinks it’s ok. My mom is super submissive so she tags along. I still don’t trust her. He tease about me not moving fast enough yesterday in 100 degree heat and 79% humidty as I made pigs in the blanket. You don’t move fast enough. You need to stop looking at the birds and the bees and talking so much. He said it hurtfully and he KNOWS it. Yet when I defend myself I’m toold I’m too sensitive he’s just teasing. 23yrs old now and My parents should know I hate being teased. I bust my ass to help them like they ask and have had to in the past do their “dirty” deeds and I’m still not respected. Moving out on my own is not an option till they are both dead. Because I’ll still end up back having to care for them anyway.
And the pendulum still sways. I keep defending myself and they scream MEDICINE MEDICINE> You’re too sensitve you need to take medicine.
I don’t want to be on it anymore. WHy would I take medicine so my liver will die off and my pancreas stops it’s job so I end up like them on high blood pressure and insulin. They are the pill poppers. I don’t want to be like them with the genes my drug addict bio-mom gave me. What a disaster that would turn out to be.
I haven’t posted anything in a while, while I have been reading others posts and commenting I really have nothing to say as far as myself. I posted that I was entering a manic state, but now I’m not so sure. I have bipolar 2 so I don’t experience intense mania. I have sperts on and off of whats called hypomania. Less intense but still manic and comes with a harsh crash back to reality soon after. So for the last 6 days or so I have been calm, cool, and collected.
I woke up and realized I was completely over my ex and my depression completely ceased for the moment.
I’m not sure what is the cause of my newly found “okayness” Its like a mixture ofÂ feeling okay, calm, and numb.
So my question is what is the cause of this miraculous turn around? Is it the zoloft, limictal, and trazadone, I have been on for about 3-3.5 weeks? Is it God finally getting around to answering my prayers and reliving me of my inner demons? (wouldn’t that be fabulous! 😀 ), unlikely though. Or is it just good old fashioned hypomania without the usual symptoms?
I really have no clue! Only time will tell and even if this does continue I wont know if its the meds or the prayer or both. Guess if it kept up it wouldn’t really matter.
I’m really not trying to get my hopes up because I know that I may wake up tomorrowÂ and crash and burn.
I think its probably a fantasy to even consider it being anything other than mania, but I don’t feel manic!
Eh I just don’t know, any thoughts/advice would be appreciated!
I’m 18, and some days I do not know why I am alive. I have considered death when I’ve been at my weakest. I’ve wanted to go to the beach drunk & walk out into the water as far as I could go and just let go of everything. Let the waves take me away. I’ve wanted to overdose on my Zoloft. And when I really can’t handle anything I take a lighter to my left arm and burn myself. my arm is scarred up now. I HAD a boyfriend from April to this Sunday. We’ve been on and off for the last three months. I am in love with him, God knows I wish I had never gotten involved. I would worry myself sick about him out drinking and driving and getting high it’s not my problem though, I can’t save him from himself. I’ve endured being called every name under the sun, been told I’ve cheated when I haven’t, I’ve been faithful when he’s cheated on me the whole fucking time. He’s thrown me against the wall told me he was gonna kill me, told me to kill myself, he’s stuck a gun to my chest a knife up to my neck. I clean, cook, take care of him, groom him, give him money when he needs it, I do his laundry and I fuck him whenever where ever. He has it so made and he doesn’t even realize it, he’s taken me for granted time and time again. I told him if he kept pushing one day I would say fuck it and be done that day has finally come. I’m happy…. or so I’m trying to be. Right now I feel like screaming and getting drunk. I miss him so fucking much and it’s only been three days of no contact.
What to say? I came to this site out of desperation so I hope it is authentic. I am a 36 year old female who has experienced depression in cycles for as long as I can remember. Late last year I was given a provisional diagnosis of “Bipolar Type II”. After initially being prescribed Lamotrigine (caused skin rash so stopped) I went cold turkey slowly came off 200mg zoloft. Just recently I have been on fluoxetine for around six weeks and have been advised to take seroquel xr (as of yesterday) After a period of depression and mixed episodes I am now feeling a bit hypomanic but still depressed (mixed state?) Anyhow, I have been trying to work out how to die and make it look like an accident to my loved ones.