Syvelocin
February 1st, 2010, 10:28 PM
In seven months, this is their darling little girl. Seemingly average, with good grades, talent, lots of friends... Oh yeah, seven months ago she was seeing a therapist and diagnosed with depression, but could this really be the same girl?
I've come here to complain about most of my seven-month story, so check out my other threads to hear about the self-harm, hospitalization, and the works.
But what I'd like to talk about here is all recent, about a month's worth of happenings, to now.
Well, new psychologist because I was told right after I mentioned my whole multiple personality-like happening to my psychiatrist that I couldn't go back to my old therapist. Nope, I have to go the one she recommended me directly. But at least last week I was prescribed tegretol (I think that's the spelling), I had the choice of demytrol (sp?) and lithium too. But we went with that one since it seemed the least... scary. It seemed to work immediately the next day, my mood calendar I'm supposed to keep reflects that incredibly, and the day after when I accidentally missed the dosage turned out horrible... though it does make me a little more fidgety and energized than even my OCD does.
Well, even working mood stabalizers don't keep the urges away.
My second progression in self-harm was from scissors to razors. Though tonight I made another progression: from those stupid, incredibly small blades in regular razor cartridges to full centimeter or two ones, your traditional vision of a razor to self-harm with.
So what did I do? For some reason, I walked to the store thirty minutes away along a major roadway. Almost fractured my ankle three times walking in tall foliage and on uneven dirt and mud ground, stumbling through thorn bushes, taking a pretty nice fall and tearing my jeans plus a cut on her arm while doing something my parents would undoubtedly not approve of... to get a twelve pack of bic razors. And a notebook, so it wouldn't look incredibly odd, buying razors at 8:30pm.
Came home, went upstairs, and while prying open the disposable razors I hurt myself, ironically, unintentionally twice, one which caused me to bleed more than I have in a very, very long time. My bag is covered with it. And really, what I think made me go to this site was the fascination and... obsession that this relatively newbie cutter, in comparison, felt when she saw all that blood spurting from the cut.
I am completely against self-harm. Yet what sickens me? That this person has been doing this drug for a bit, not quite addicted but still in that stage of loving it and unwilling to stop, yet she wouldn't recommend it. She can write and write about the prettiest rubies she had ever seen coming out of that puncture.
And why is this a crisis? This is the same human being who was a straight A student who played with Barbie dolls as a kid. And suicide is out of the question, and has been for five months, yet she can't see the reason why she bothers to go to school everyday.
(oh, and btw, my psychologist took my depression inventory. I got an 18. She describes this score as baseline severe depression. As theymight say, FML, my entire problem is my worsening mania. I'm less depressive than manic.)
I've come here to complain about most of my seven-month story, so check out my other threads to hear about the self-harm, hospitalization, and the works.
But what I'd like to talk about here is all recent, about a month's worth of happenings, to now.
Well, new psychologist because I was told right after I mentioned my whole multiple personality-like happening to my psychiatrist that I couldn't go back to my old therapist. Nope, I have to go the one she recommended me directly. But at least last week I was prescribed tegretol (I think that's the spelling), I had the choice of demytrol (sp?) and lithium too. But we went with that one since it seemed the least... scary. It seemed to work immediately the next day, my mood calendar I'm supposed to keep reflects that incredibly, and the day after when I accidentally missed the dosage turned out horrible... though it does make me a little more fidgety and energized than even my OCD does.
Well, even working mood stabalizers don't keep the urges away.
My second progression in self-harm was from scissors to razors. Though tonight I made another progression: from those stupid, incredibly small blades in regular razor cartridges to full centimeter or two ones, your traditional vision of a razor to self-harm with.
So what did I do? For some reason, I walked to the store thirty minutes away along a major roadway. Almost fractured my ankle three times walking in tall foliage and on uneven dirt and mud ground, stumbling through thorn bushes, taking a pretty nice fall and tearing my jeans plus a cut on her arm while doing something my parents would undoubtedly not approve of... to get a twelve pack of bic razors. And a notebook, so it wouldn't look incredibly odd, buying razors at 8:30pm.
Came home, went upstairs, and while prying open the disposable razors I hurt myself, ironically, unintentionally twice, one which caused me to bleed more than I have in a very, very long time. My bag is covered with it. And really, what I think made me go to this site was the fascination and... obsession that this relatively newbie cutter, in comparison, felt when she saw all that blood spurting from the cut.
I am completely against self-harm. Yet what sickens me? That this person has been doing this drug for a bit, not quite addicted but still in that stage of loving it and unwilling to stop, yet she wouldn't recommend it. She can write and write about the prettiest rubies she had ever seen coming out of that puncture.
And why is this a crisis? This is the same human being who was a straight A student who played with Barbie dolls as a kid. And suicide is out of the question, and has been for five months, yet she can't see the reason why she bothers to go to school everyday.
(oh, and btw, my psychologist took my depression inventory. I got an 18. She describes this score as baseline severe depression. As theymight say, FML, my entire problem is my worsening mania. I'm less depressive than manic.)