because for some reason this morning i can't stop crying.
because for some reason this morning i can't stop crying.
I'm trying lithium carbonate as of yesterday.
It seemed to be going well then, but today I find:
I have no idea if any of this is even related to the lithium, though. Frustratingly, I'm always a-mental-break-down-away-from-crazytown, more so at this point in the week (Thurs through weekend).
I should also point out that almost IMMEDIATELY after taking a dose, I feel a warm and giddy happiness that seems to kind of wash over me like a snuggly blanket? Only, that doesn't last, as I get mean when it wears off, and that's... apparently within about 20 minutes? I just... why.
Gosh I am sick of my head and being trapped in it... I want out of here really badly.
Aside from Paxil, Prozac, and Zoloft, which I tried decades ago as a teenager, I have now tried five more. Here they are, with the worst of their accompanying side-effects (which made most of them unbearable).
No observed effect of any kind whatsoever. May as well have been placebo.
Did not improve anxiety, made sleep and emotions impossibly problematic (took six months to taper off of due to withdrawal symptoms)
This was the worst I tried as a teen. I couldn't sleep, couldn't invest in anything emotionally, and was basically a mental zombie for a month or so until I simply stopped taking it. (The very first dose I took made me feel wonderful. Euphoric, excited, energetic... Too bad that didn't last more than half an hour, and too bad it was otherwise a complete disaster.)
A non-standard anxiety medication. It did not have any appreciable affect on my anxiety, though it did turn out to be unbearable to take. I started out taking barely any, and at the height of my trial, which lasted for half a year, I was taking the maximum allowable dose.
My first experience with how dangerous these blasted things can be. I only took this for four days on my first try. It almost killed me.
This one doubled my heart rate and blood pressure (200/100, pulse 90+), caused extreme emotional outbursts and irritability, and generally made me act entirely bipolar type 1. (Complete with severe mania and depressive episodes! I did try it again later at a half dose, and while it improved my depression mildly, it was not at all effective at improving my anxiety, so was abandoned as unsuitable.)
This one was almost as frightening as the Lexapro. Maybe worse, in some ways. I couldn't take it longer than two days without discontinuing due to the mental distress it caused. (Also, I believe it frightened my parents just how violent and impulsive it made me. I was dangerously out of character, threw things, and yelled quite a lot.)
Took this one for longer than I should have. Never again. What a nightmare. (I still to this day have muscle contractions/jerks that come on randomly due to this horrific excuse for a drug. It is pure, unadulterated rubbish.)
I only stuck this one out for a week. I swear, getting 0-4 hours of sleep per night is a good way to make me think I'm going insane. And at times I'm pretty sure I did... and that thinking I'm back to normal now is just a figment of my imagination, or something... (Seriously, I am still somewhat concerned I never stopped taking this and I'm only dreaming that I did.)
This is definitely the drug I took where I decided this whole endeavour was a waste of time, and that I was done even trying any more. I only have so much energy, and unfortunately it's now depleted. I don't know when or if I'll get it back again, but I am still waiting for this to be entirely out of my system, so I can't even say I'm "completely done" with it yet...
Though I certainly wish I was...
Just some other random nothingness that I was recommended to try. None of them helped, and some made things worse (though thankfully nothing like the scale of the lunacy contained above).
If you ever wonder why some people despair of the medical community being of any help to anyone, I have been trying to figure out what will help me since I was in my teens. I'm now 40 years old, and while I know myself a little better, I still don't even have a damn diagnosis of a possible issue that could explain my anxiety, depression, or malaise.
Sometimes I feel like it would be easier to give up and stop trying. Because that's what it feels like everyone else has done: given up on me ever being a real person.
And that seriously hurts.
These were titled "hella cute questions". They seem more run-of-the-mill to me, but hey, I'm basically a 15 year old right now, so they're fitting.
Whoa, I can't even remember. That's pretty sad, and mildly upsetting... Probably my last girlfriend, who I dated for a whole three months or something incredibly serious like that. For context, this was in the 90s.
I am so shy I make introverts nervous.
I don't... I don't think I can answer that in the way it was intended. I am looking forward with all my heart to seeing the real me in the mirror when I get up some day. If that sounds weird or silly, you aren't trans.
No. I mean, maybe, but I seriously doubt it.
I have both physical and mental health issues.
I was hit by a careless driver while walking to work in October of 2010, and have had serious back and neck issues ever since. We're talking pinched nerves, muscle spasms, terrible headaches and joint issues... It just goes on.
I can't even sleep on my right side any more, because it causes my shoulder to separate, which then has to be forcibly replaced, or all those fun symptoms are tenfold worse. I can usually do this myself, but sometimes I'm too weak, and then I'm just stuck being in horrific pain until I can get help (or gather the strength to finally manage it myself). This makes me really cranky sometimes, and I've missed a lot of work because of it. I suspect my current place of employment is about as sick of seeing "I can't come in today, my neck is bad" emails as they can get.
I am also hypersensitive in pretty much every sense imaginable. Bright sunlight, crazy textures (on skin and tongue), electronics beeping, sharp odors, animal cries, loud engines, diesel smoke, headlights at night... almost anything above and beyond the drab every-day can drain me lightning fast. In seriously bad situations, these can set off panic attacks or complete melt-downs. Even being forced to use the telephone can pitch me into the throes of panic attacks and aversion. Holding my hands over my ears while crying is a common occurrence, as selective mutism is a common symptom of a melt-down. It's really tough to ask for help when you aren't able to even articulate what the problem is...
I have major depressive disorder, and social anxiety. I am high-functioning autistic to top everything else off. Fun fact, though, literally no professionals I have ever seen would admit to me it was possible. This despite a laundry list of related symptoms, matching DSM-V diagnostic criteria perfectly and generally being awkward and uncomfortable around other people. If you ever wonder about yourself, compare notes with your autistic friends who have been diagnosed. You may be surprised.
As much as I try to be easy-going and pleasant, sometimes I struggle harder than seems fair just to leave the house for errands.
To be fair, though these things are a terrible drain on my sanity in bad situations, they can also be very helpful in other cases. For instance, I'm the "sniffer & taster" in the family: when food is suspected of being off or spoiled, I am the one chosen to smell or sample it. If I say it's bad, no one else will touch it. They've learned from hard experience that I'm almost always right.
I once tasted mold in marinara sauce cooked extremely sparingly into home-made pizza, and alerted everyone else to the fact that something had spoiled. Turned out the entire jar of spaghetti sauce was teaming with critters, and it was completely awful. We had to throw away two entire pizzas my dad slaved to make for my birthday because Mario Batalli's quality control is a disaster. Hilariously, no one believed me until they examined the nearly empty sauce jar, and realised I was correct. (It was horrible, and they kept eating it until I insisted we sort out what was bad!)
My hearing is also so acute I used to be able to tell when people had tube televisions turned on, even from outside their homes. When someone in my family would ask if the TV had been powered off for the night I could listen for that high-pitched, high-frequency hum, and be able to discern the set's state from almost anywhere in the house. And I won't lie, being able to hear what people are saying about me from other rooms is incredibly useful -- if a bit heartbreaking at times.
"The person I like?" I don't even... I don't generally "like" people that way. I get crushes and that's pretty much it?
I don't drink alcohol any more, so despite the fact that I'm probably ace (I think?), this question is fairly unanswerable. Or at least irrelevant?
I would like to hope that if I had a crush on someone and told them, they would be kind enough not to be cruel about it.
I am rather sad I'll likely never need someone to hold my hair for me while I puke. But that's a curious thing to be considered a "loss", isn't it?
Kind. Clever. Soft-spoken, but willing to raise their voice to stand up for someone else. Gentle. Slow to smile, but easy to laugh. Respectful of others, and intolerant of intolerance.
Quicker answer: strong women make me weak in the knees. I'm still figuring out how I feel about men. (So far the jury is completely out on that one...)
I'd be happy to be mistaken. I'm not adverse to the idea, just extremely dubious.
Me, generally. How screwed up my life is. Worries about whether or not it will ever improve. Wondering if my face is ever going to feminise in the slightest, or if I'm stuck looking androgynous for the rest of my life. (Not that I have a problem with that, it just isn't really what I was hoping for. It's tough to be remotely femme when one looks more like a guy than a woman.)
Yes. I enjoy the act alone, but being intimate with others is incredibly difficult for me. Maybe due to being a-spec (?!), maybe past trauma (harassment, bullying, rape). I don't know. This one's just always rough no matter how I approach it.
Maybe having a caring and patient significant other who was sensitive and well-meaning would help. But I don't know, as I've never had one remotely matching that description. (In fact, as weird as it sounds, I've been set up to be used for sex more than been in healthy relationships, which is probably a lot more common for trans folks than anyone suspects. And that was before I even came out...)
If I had to guess, it was probably my mother. We talk about life quite a bit.
SMS: "You should have the password via the email thread. If not, do let me know."
Telegram: "I am SO ready for summer to come back..."
Yup, I work a lot. The SMS was to one of my seemingly endless supply of bosses who all vie for my time and attention, wanting just that. The Telegram message was to my sister. A caption on an image I sent to her of me wearing shorts and a nice tank-top.
FIVE?! I struggle to find one favourite song at any given time. I like music, but that's a bit of an ask.
Okay, here is an attempt... Go easy on me, I'm not a huge music person, and the really raw acoustic stuff upsets me for some reason:
All of these aside, I mostly like anything musical. I just... I don't know why I struggle with acoustic stuff. Something about imperfections in recordings just irks me, you know?
I also cannot listen to Depeche Mode without crying due to a very awkward and ultimately disastrous relationship which ended poorly (and robbed me of my best friend in the process).
This is actually one of my most intimate things, because... well, you probably read above, so yeah. Cuddles and closeness of proximity are incredibly special to me, as they are not something I get to enjoy very often.
Not particularly. I still use the term "lucky" when something I didn't expect to occur happens, like most people presumably do. But I don't believe in astrology, tarot, Ouija boards, or any of that hoopla. Superstition is the germ that grows religion, and I take strong umbrage with theology.
Personally, I rely on myself to change my life, no one else. Sometimes we all need help to get where we're going, but no one is going to hold my hand and help me through the rough patches unless I'm willing to get myself into them in the first place. As far as I'm concerned, superstition, luck, and religion are all different names for the same kind of foolish external reliance that causes people to stew in mediocrity for most of their lives.
I'll pass, thanks.
Um, I guess I got in better physical shape last summer? I've since mostly let my unreachable fitness goals go, and stopped worrying about it so much. (I already went from 190 lbs to about 135 in the span of a year!) Exercise makes my depression and other health issues much worse for some reason. I don't know if my brain doesn't like making dopamine, or if my brain chemistry is just horribly awry, but there it is. If I work out hard enough to sweat for 30 minutes I can almost guarantee I'll be so severely depressed for the next 2-6 days I may as well be virulently ill. I spend a lot of that time in bed, wishing I could expire, and honestly, I'm just done with that kind of wallowing.
Sure, my aunt loves it when her sweet trans niece gives her a peck on the cheek. :)
Okay, fine, I know what is actually being asked here, and no. I would not kiss her again. The woman I'm thinking of was a summer thing, and she moved off to New York to attend Brown once summer was over. I never heard from her again. She has since married, has several kids, and owns/runs a successful local printing business. I only know this because a friend of mine who has a Facebook account looked her up (no, I didn't ask them to do this, I'm not even remotely a stalker).
Quite honestly I know she never cared about me that much. She went out with me as a summer sex thing, and I was too oblivious to realise this until much, much later. (We never did the deed in case your salacious curiosity needs slaking. Sorry.)
Not particularly. Space doesn't interest me that much, since I know I'll never get there. To be fair, I'd be too frightened even if I had the opportunity.
Her name was Angie. We were about six years old. She was perfect. She shared Lifesavers candies with me on the regular, even though my parents didn't believe in my sister and I eating candy.
I don't even know where she lives now. First kiss, first crush, first friend to move away and break my heart...
I still love pineapple Lifesavers to this day.
Not really... I'd rather just shower, get clean, and move on to other things I actually want to do. I am not particularly good at just sitting still and meditating, or "letting it all go". On the contrary, these quiet times to myself often cause me to worry on things I can't change, which is never healthy.
They would technically be my parents' neighbours, but since I live here as well right now, they're also mine. Yeah, they're an okay lot. Mostly older retirees, like my folks. It's rural, so I talk to any of them somewhere on the order of twice per year, at most.
I smoke a bit of herb, but other than that... I don't drink alcohol, I don't use tobacco, and I'm not into much in the way of hobbies. I am still looking for things I enjoy because all the activities I did before HRT were expensive, or things I did because they were stereotypically male, and they were expected of me. Once I realised this I lost interest in most of them, and haven't seriously looked back.
I guess my worst behaviour is probably putting things off for far too long. When one has anxiety as severe as mine, some days just leaving the house is an effort in futility.
Aside from the terror induced just by the thought of airports and trying to pass through TSA as a trans woman, my social anxiety won't allow this. Travel is not something I crave, nor look forward to by any stretch of the imagination. I am capable of doing it, especially so if I have others to back me up and watch out for me. I can be naive and am easily distracted (I get lost a fair amount). But on my own? Heck no, count me out, thanks.
Yes. NO! Is this a trick?...
It really depends on the context. I am extremely naive and trusting for the most part, but I have been burned because of it. I learn those lessons well, and mistrust when I feel it prudent.
Going to bed. Seriously, being conscious is highly over-rated.
As a trans woman, please understand you're asking me to choose what kind of crushing dysphoria is the worst. This is tantamount to asking someone who's drowning which droplets of water have been the most troubling to them in their situation. Good luck getting an answer there...
Set out my many prescription medications, and the clothes/cosmetics I choose for the day, so I can shave and shower.
Oh, and contemplate the ever-present ennui which perpetually hungers to keep me prisoner in bed. (Ah, bed, the only safe refuge I seem to have.)
Darker would be fine. I don't think it could physically be much lighter. I sunburn in the flipping winter if I stay outside too long.
I wish I was joking.
I do have to admit I love my freckles, though. I love cultivating them in the summer. I'm extremely proud of them, and I don't care what anyone else thinks.
Other transgender people.
Not a single one. I'm just that easy to get along with, I guess. (Note I do not have any exes from after I started HRT, so these relationships were all in the very, very distant past.)
Yeah, cus I'm so charming and attractive, people can't keep their hands off of me! I need a partner to beat them off with a stick!
Seriously? Sure, maybe. I have never ruled it out. I blub like a cartoon character at weddings, though, so I need to remember to stuff some tissues in my pocket, I suppose.
Yes. I'm never sure if it makes me too femme (and thereby not butch enough) or just androgynous. Either way, long hair has been important to me for personal reasons I have not entirely sussed. So it's part of my presentation, and I'm not particularly willing to change it at the moment. Perhaps when I pass better?
Though you know, maybe not even then. It's kind of... me, y'know? c:
...and i'm off of lexapro and can take as much of it as i want...
because i feel like utter crap.
every time i get to work is a new cause to celebrate stress headaches, i guess. aren't they good and lovely?