Not with a bang but a Wimper

First off, I would like to thank all my followers and readers for sticking with me while I am going through this hard time.

I’m not sure if this blog entry will make much sense. My mind is a mess right now, but I need to get it out, so try to bare with me.

It’s been 2 weeks since I was taken off all my psych meds. The doctor added latuda, which is an atypical antipsychotic. It’s meant for people who have schizophrenia or bipolar.

Being the queen of side effects, such as I am, has led to some really bad days. That and the fact that I don’t have a relationship with my doctor has basically left me a hysterical mess.

I’m going to try to explain the doctor situation now. Please try to follow my broken train of thought.

I had a psychiatrist but could no longer afford to see her because of my insurance, so I switched. The new psych took me off all my meds then retired. I went to go back to my first psych but she no longer worked there. I was assigned a new psych but they screwed up and put me in for 20 min instead of 40 min. Because the new new psych only had 20 mins with me he was unwilling to prescribe any new meds.

So, here I am 2 weeks later on latuda and seroquel xr.

Seroquel has been a huge help in that it allows me to sleep for 12hrs. But what about when I’m not sleeping?

Being awake is like what I imagine hell to be.

My emotions cycle rapidly. I can go from laughing to hysterical crying. I scream and yell. I shake. I have no control over what I feel or what will trigger it.

Anxiety and fear are both a huge side effect from the latuda.

The best way I can describe it is like having the constant urge to move but being in so much fear that I can’t bring myself to do anything. So basically excessive nervous energy while being frozen in fear.

I’m scared to go anywhere.

I was going through all this while on our mini vacay to North Carolina. My fiancé had to get his stuff from storage. On top of that he wanted me to meet his friends.

This only added to the stress.

I made it through by my acting ability. I pretended to be Candice. The well medicated Candice, that is.

I played myself as myself only not myself.

At this point I am exhausted.

I can’t pretend to be the “real” me anymore because I don’t know who the real me is.

If the real me is the person I am right now then I need to vacate this realm ASAP.

I have no joy, I am constantly in fear, my self esteem is non existent, I feel no hope.

I have unopened boxes of purchases I thought would make me feel better but I don’t care about any of it. So here they sit. Unopened.

My PTSD is having a field day with my brain. It has been rapidly cycling between memories. This is only giving credence to the voice I call Herbert. He keeps repeating every negative thing that has ever been said to me. The negative has become my reality.

Perhaps I was a “mistake”. Perhaps I am too “ugly and fat” to make friends. Perhaps I am a “failure”.

The thoughts have even gone as far as the butterfly effect. What if me being alive is why the people I love suffer?

Sorry, I have to stop here. I do not say any of this for pity. I don’t need pity I need mercy.

If these posts are helping any of you, please let me know.

Right now I am just existing. I’m not really alive. Perhaps the best word to use is Undead.

I am completely, hopelessly, undeniably, undead.

I don’t want to talk anymore.

Mic drop

I’m out.