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So, my appointment with my pdoc is coming up next week.  I see the therapist twice a week but I haven’t seen the pdoc for 2 months.

I really hate psychiatrists.  Mine is fine for what she is, but I really don’t like the entire field.  I see her every now and then for 15 minutes and I have to somehow manage to fit into that time everything that has been going on since the last time I saw her. Because she is or is not going to change my meds based on what I tell her.  If I’m not on point, it could go horribly wrong.  I have to face facts…I am rarely on point these days.

And based on this stellar mixed episode I’ve been living in for the last week and a half, something is already wrong.


I keep my meds in a gallon size ziploc bag.  I take 8 different medications although 4 of them are for my intersticial cystitis (IC).  But based on the times I take meds daily and the quantity I take of each medication, I take 13 pills when my IC is under control and 21 when it’s not.  My ativan used to be a rescue med, but at my last appointment it got put into the daily rotation.  My shrink has seemed exasperated at times, and I know she doesn’t quite know what to do with me anymore.

Something has got to give.  I feel like I’m really kind of just barely holding it all together. I know, logically, that this mixed episode has really knocked me on my ass.  And it is the first one I’ve ever had, so there’s a lot of extra emotions going on that would not normally be happening.  But, I have to wonder if this mixed episode is a sign of things to come.  I’m medicated out the wazoo and yet, this still happened.

Maybe I should have expected it.  But, I don’t think so.  But, then again, the psychological testing I had done seemed to imply it was possible.  In fact he said

does not demonstrate sufficient capacity to gain and maintain any sort of meaningful employment given functional work impairments stemming from severe mental illness and personality pathology.  Further, it is probable that she will never demonstrate such capacity.  There is overwhelming evidence that she has failed multiple psychiatric and psychological treatments as outlined.  in fact, her current precarious psychological status is simply being maintained via such interventions in order to hopefully avoid yet another psychiatric decompensation

Can I get a fan-fucking-tabulous?

This wasn’t supposed to be my life.  I’ve had to accept that certain things I wanted would never happen.  But I feel like I gave enough before the mental illness was even discovered.  And now it wants more.  It wants everything.

The work thing….I hate it.  I really do.  But, I hate it less than the conclusion that this is as good as it’s gonna get.  Because if that’s the case, then what’s the point?  I already go to therapy twice a week and I will be going back to three times a week once my therapists conferences are over in a couple weeks.  Changing meds means the dreaded weaning off one and incorporating another – which is always a barrell full of laughs – hoping against hope that the new one works and that we haven’t just made a massive mistake.

So I need to make a list for the shrink appointment.

We have to go over the psychological testing.  I dropped a copy at her office a couple weeks ago so she could get a jump on her reading.  It takes more than 15 minutes to read that puppy.

We have to talk about this mixed episode.

I have to go back through my journal and these blog entries and make notes on how my mood has been.

I know there’s more, but I can’t think of it right now.  That’s why I need a list!

I know I need my meds changed.  I know I do.  One person should not take this much ativan and the depressions are becoming problematically low.

I’m terrified.