So it’s been a week since my doctors visit which I didn’t talk about because I was upset at the time and I still am now. I was happy to be going to see a doctor that was really nice and supportive last time I saw him and that made me feel better. But his attitude was different this time and I just left feeling deflated.
I told the doctor I wasn’t happy with my last appointment at the hospital. How I felt the psychiatric nurse didn’t listen and I felt disheartened by it all and he basically said that it was “tough”. And I would now be treated for anxiety as that was the “label” she had given me. I told him the lady had said IAPT (The NHS mental health services) would call me within a few weeks and they didn’t. He asked why I haven’t called them to chase it. Why the hell should I? It takes all of my damn energy to get out of bed in the morning, why should I chase up a call I was told I would be receiving? He seemed frustrated that I hadn’t made an effort to get them to call me but whatever, my mood was slipping dramatically by this point.
Then he asked what I wanted from the appointment. I hate that question. It’s not my job to treat me. If I had no knowledge of mental illness I would be stumped by that question. Would he ask a cancer patient or a diabetic what they wanted from an appointment? I severely doubt it. And this is what pisses me off. I feel like that psychiatric nurse didn’t believe I was depressed, I have said that before. So I have a hard time talking to people I hardly know about how I want to kill myself. Is that wrong? Because I put on a mask and act like I’m ok out of habit I am treated like I’m faking it. Maybe I’m just paranoid. But it all just really made me feel crappy.
To answer his “what do you want out of this appointment question” I told him I wanted different medication. Citalopram isn’t helping, it’s making me anxious. He agreed and put me on 50mg of sertraline well that was fine until he decided to tell me that this medication will probably make me put weight on and that my weight is already “an issue” Last time I saw this guy he measured me and weighed me. He didn’t mention my weight then, he didn’t even tell me what I weighed. I mean I know i’m not skinny, but jeez!
Then I told him I needed some more of the contraceptive pill. He flat out told me “no” he said, two other women my age had had blood clots on their lungs in the last few months because of their “weight” So I was kind of annoyed. I understand his point but he’s putting me at risk of pregnancy which let’s be honest in my mental state isn’t a good idea. So he tested my blood pressure, which was fine.) He suggested I have the implant or the coil inserted into me, I told him I did not want a government drone in my arm or vagina. And magically there was all of a sudden another pill I could have but it was less effective. But! It doesn’t put me at risk of a blood clot. God only knows why he didn’t tell me about that to begin with.
So I left. Feeling upset and let down. But with a hand-scrawled plan for me to come off of Citalopram. Take a 20mg dose for a week (half the dose I was taking) then take a 20mg pill every other day for a week. then to take a 4-day break before moving on to the Sertraline.
I got home and decided to take up the offer of the few people who always tell me they are “always” there if I need them.” I was feeling pretty bad by this point, I felt like hurting myself. So I messaged 2 of my “always there for me” Team. Neither responded all day, all night or even the next day. Which is fair enough. But why tell me that? Why say you will “ALWAYS” be there for me if you can’t “ALWAYS” I don’t want to sound like the dick who talks about the “power” of words, but Always is a powerful word. There is a reason I have never told anyone I would “Always” be there for them and that is just it. I can’t be there for myself most of the time.
But rolling back to the evening after the appointment I cut myself. I had literally just told the doctor I hadn’t cut myself for a few days. And then I did it again, like the idiot I am.
Coming of Citalopram has been terrible. I am fluctuating between intense anger and severe depression. I spent last Wednesday crying and trying to prevent myself from crying. I spent today feux threats to break people’s necks because there were pissing me off. Mostly just the stupid woman I work with who has decided once again to ignore me! But that’s for another post.
Next week a girl is coming back to work from her maternity leave who mostly makes my work life crap. So, in between the withdrawal and coming off of my medication. Having to go through what will probably be my worst week (next week when I am taking no medication) alone as the people that support me at work are both on holiday. I am going to crack. I am going suffer badly. And I literally have no idea how I am going to cope anymore.
I am beginning to feel I have to justify my illness. Like that stupid hospital woman told them all she didn’t think it was serious. Like she thought I was ok or not as “sick” as my usual doctor had said. But I am sick. And I am going back to my old doctor next time. I give up. I can’t fix me and I don’t feel like anyone else wants to.
The Elephant in the Room