JoLe: If I don't fit in a box, I certainly won't fit in a pill bottle

[JoLe]

Great to hear! I like how you started with not so much of an introduction, but a plan of action. Great spirit!

 

Thank you!

[JoLe]

Wow JoLe... I hope for the world out there that you make this into a book. I relate to so much of what you have told us... with variations on family peculiarities, of course, but all the same. What I DO admire is your sense of humor, how you can relate it all in a way that seems so light and full of perspective. My version of the same would be sophomoric and pathetic.

 

Here, I'll demonstrate: I had a very similar experience to your forced hospital go. I had gotten into a bad fight with my boyfriend, and took more clonazepam than normal (usually I just took 1/4 or 1/2 a pill now and then)... this time I wanted it to help me sleeeep (forever my drug of choice to help me process... and I've always had trouble processing anger) so I took about 3 pills, woke up, and then took three more. At some point in the middle of all of this, though, I was emailing an old friend in California about how angry I was, and since I was groggy (and, well, angry) I had some spelling mistakes and general weirdness going on in my email. This freaked out my friend, who was accustomed to more precise grammar and spelling on my part. Add to this that he knew that years prior I had been in a psychiatric ward for a week = he decided to call 911 in my state to warn them of a possible suicide.

 

I was in a deep, deep slumber when I heard what sounded like someone trying to break into my house. I went peaked out of my back door in my sleep T-shirt to see what was going on. There was an ambulance and a paramedic there, saying they had gotten a call about a possible suicide. I was confused, said no... no suicide. But the paramedic took advantage of my grogginess and asked to take my blood pressure. I was like, well, fine, if that will convince you I'm OK. But that was an invitation in the door (dumb, drugged me fell right into the trap). A police officer was at the front door as well, and the paramedics let him in. They started rifling through my house, and found an empty beer bottle and the clonazepam bottle, which happened to be nearly empty. I told them it was just coincidence, and proved it by bringing out a whole other bottle full of untouched clonazepam. They said they were going to have to take me to the hospital anyway. I said I was fine and didn't want to go. They said I had no choice

 

At this point the police officer saw a bumper sticker I had on my bookshelf that said "There's no government like no government", and he started asking me if I was "anti-government" and harassing me about my political views. (If he really thought I was suicidal, what the hell kind of approach was that?) I tried calling my therapist, but he was of no help... he would not tell them anything and suggested I go along with what they wanted (everyone covering their ass like you mention... inherent distrust of anything that comes out of a "mental" person). So I said if I was going to go, at least let me get dressed and go to the bathroom first. I got some pants and went into the bathroom. As I tried to close the door the paramedic slammed it open. She said she didn't want me doing anything sneaky in there (slitting my wrists with a toothbrush in a mad suicidal rush??). She made me pee and put my pants on in front of her, with the police officer glaring at me the whole time from my living room as well. So effing humiliating.

 

At the hospital they took a blood sample and made me talk to the psychiatrist. Once they saw that the level of clonazepam I had in my system was pretty darn low, they let me go under the supervision of a friend. It took me weeks to get over the horror of the experience (OK, maybe I'm still not quite over it). It made me feel so powerless that someone could come into my house and tell me what to do. And my insurance didn't cover the 500 dollar ambulance I never asked for. I resolved to do my utmost to never have that happen again.

 

Have you seen this? http://www.hsperson.com/pages/hsp.htm

 

What you say about crumbs in the bed... that is so me. Just a few months ago, when I was first getting off antidepressants, I told my boyfriend that more than depressive, I thought I was ultra-sensitive. What I loved about taking ADs is that it took the edge off. I felt stronger, more centered, able to deal. The world did not seem like such a strange, unfamiliar, hostile place any more. Now I'm paying for 16 years of using that crutch. I'm hoping to be able to find other avenues of comfort and OKness.

 

Thanks so much for sharing your stories with us. It's truly the first time in a while I've felt amused (in the very best sense)!

 

 

OK, first off, that was in no way sophomoric or pathetic! You told that story very well, and I could feel myself in your situation, being bullied by authority figures and not able to fight back.

 

I hadn't heard of the book before, but now I've placed a hold at the library for it. Thanks! Of all the great stuff my therapist has done for me, telling me that I'm simply wired sensitive is one of the best. It's not me--or you--doing anything, it's just how we are. And I firmly believe you can't start to solve a problem until you know what the problem really is. (I don't know how many times I've been told I should try to ignore things that were bothering me. And I feel like I'm always ignoring things that are bothering me!

 

And finally, thank you! It means a lot to me that my writing means something to others, particularly other people who are in a situation like mine. We're all going to get through this.

[JoLe]

Days 31 & 32

 

Still here, still doing fine. I realized today that I hadn't written about the Lorazepam, so that's on the agenda for tomorrow. Something to say!

[JoLe]

Day 33

 

 

[i posted this in my LiveJournal (in a slightly different form) on September 13, 2009. It was the first time I had Lorazepam.]

 

I walked into the Emergency Room crying, which I think has a lot to do with how things worked out. First, they took me very, very quickly--no waiting at all, just right over to check my blood pressure, which, if I recall correctly, was 190/112. Which explained everything.

 

I wasn't feeling well yesterday, but I didn't know why. I made it through the night--I took an extra Clonazepam--but when I got up, I didn't feel any better. I was feeling like I was vibrating.

 

I had an appointment with my therapist first thing, and I figured that whatever it was was stress which maybe talking to Laurel would help. I stopped at a CVS first to check my blood pressure, but they didn't have a machine. So, just my appointment.

 

It went well, except that I didn't tell her about the way I was vibrating. We talked about my trip, and I got support. I was loved.

 

It was a very nice session. She gave me her email address, in case I needed her while I'm away, but she was sure I won't. She's very supportive, and she tells me things about herself, which helps me relate to her.

 

Anyway. By the time I left, my hands were vibrating. I was about five blocks from Methodist Hospital, so I decided to go to their Emergency Room.

 

As I say, I was crying--I was stressing out about how I don't have time to be sick, I have stuff to do before I leave for my trip [to New York], and by the way, have I mentioned that I'm leaving for a trip in five days? So I really don't have time to be sick!

 

But I was pretty sure that having a stroke would most likely ruin my trip, so there I was.

 

The tech took me to my room as soon as she had my blood pressure (high), temperature (normal) and pulse (unknown--by me). I asked to use the bathroom. The nurse gave me directions, and she also gave me a specimen cup. "I don't know if we'll need it, but it can't hurt to have it." So, I peed in a cup and went back to my room. It was about ten thirty by then.

 

When I got there, there were three women waiting for me, one from records to get copies of my insurance card and my I.D. and two nurses to get me settled. (Two because one was in training.) Then the doctor showed up, and he asked me what was going on. I told him about my heart problems, and how this had happened to me before, back in '03, and that it seems to just be a stress thing. He seemed to accept all of that as quite reasonable. I told him that I was there to find out if it really was just a stress/anxiety thing, or was there something really wrong with me, and he told me they'd do that, and that they'd be giving me some stuff, and would I prefer a pill or an IV?

 

I said a pill would be better, since finding my veins was always difficult.

 

The doctor said that I was probably going to be very drowsy, and how did I get there?

 

I drove myself.

 

Well, I would need to get a ride home.

 

Not the most complicated thing in the world. I was only a few blocks from work, so I was pretty sure I'd be able to get a couple of my co-workers to help me out.

 

The doctor gave me an Ativan and some water. I was already calming down, but man, did that help.

 

I took off my shirt, pants and shoes and put on my gown. The doctor went away for a while and the nurses did my EKG. The trainee was sticking the little sticky things on me to attach the wires to, and trying not to move the gown too much, even though I did have a bra on, so it wasn't like I was going to be exposed. (Or like I actually care. When I'm in a medical professional's care, I'm not worrying that somebody is looking at something they're not supposed to. I just want me to do their job, and if the gown or drape or whatever is in the way, just move it.) Anyway, I said "Hey, I wore my scarlet bra. No sense keeping it covered up." The nurses were amused. (Nothing else makes me feel good in quite that way.)

 

After the EKG, one of the nurses gave me the remote for the TV, and they left.

 

I channel surfed for a while, then the doctor came back. He had me sit up, and he listened to my heart with its impressive murmur. (He really was impressed. He called another doctor to listen to it, too. But he reassured me that it wasn't because it was a bad murmur, it was because "we listen to so many healthy hearts, we kind of jump at the chance to listen to a murmur. It's how we learn." I said I totally understood that, and that he should feel free to bring in anyone else he wanted to listen to my murmur. "I'm not doing anything anyway," I said.

 

"Maybe we could take her out to the waiting room, let everybody listen to her murmur," the new doctor said, and I laughed.

 

The new doctor went away, and my doctor and I talked about my Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome*. He was pleasantly surprised that I knew so much, and I told him how the way I manage it is, when my heart is racing, I take very, very deep breaths. "I read somewhere that holding your breath was supposed to help, but it's never really worked for me. Deep breaths will help."

 

He told me that was very smart, that that physiologically, taking several deep breaths has much the same effect on my heart as holding my breath.

 

I asked him if there was any connection between WPW and panic attacks, and he answered (very enthusiastically) that there most likely was, that there was a whole specialty devoted to the whole cardio-something (I can't thing of the word) connection. Very comforting. We talked about my stresses, and how my mind feels so divided: I know that my mother will be fine--or even if she isn't, there's nothing she actually has to have me for. She knows how to dial 911. But all my caretaker anxiety is coming to the surface. He was lovely and understanding and made me feel--like I was handling things well.

 

After he left, I called work and talked to Margo about my possible transportation problems. She told me she'd be happy to help--and find someone to drive my car, that I should just let hew know when I was ready to leave.

 

I drowsed a bit, channel-surfed, worried about my trip. But I wasn't vibrating anymore.

 

When the doctor came back, he said there was nothing troubling in my EKG, and he didn't see anything to worry about. It sounded exactly like what I'd said it was: high blood pressure either caused or exacerbated by too much stress. I did the right thing to come in. I could go--I could even drive. I could even go to work if I wanted to.

 

Well, why not? I had things to get cleaned up before my vacation, and I was already right there. So I put my clothes back on and went to work, where they were all quite surprised and pleased to see me.

 

I've been a little out of it most of the day, just a little bit vaguer than usual. I had to leave early to take my mother to Coumadin clinic, and she didn't seem to notice anything odd about me. I considered not telling her, but eventually I did. She didn't seem overly concerned, but that doesn't mean anything. She might take an extra Xanax tonight, to avoid a panic attack. And she hugged me after I took her home.

 

It was an odd, odd day, but I feel good. I feel very validated. Everyone was very kind to me, Everyone seemed to consider me an intelligent, competent person who was making good decisions. Considering when I was sitting in the car crying, I seemed to myself to be a scared, indecisive, weepy mess, this felt astonishing.

 

I'm feeling fine now.

 

*WPW is an electrical condition of the heart. It's like a loose wire that sometimes causes the electrical impulse to bounce back and forth, which makes my heart race. It can be a serious condition, but mine isn't.

[Altostrata]

Maybe rebound from the benzo?

[JoLe]

Maybe rebound from the benzo?

 

I wouldn't be surprised.

[JoLe]

Day 34

 

Also taken from my LiveJournal, September 22, 2009. I'm posting these instead of rewriting it for the sake of authenticity.

 

When I was in the ER, they wanted me to see my doctor before my trip, if it was possible. It was possible, and I wasn't feeling so hot, so I went.

 

We talked about my stress, and he gave me a prescription for Lorazepam, and he told me to have a nice trip.

 

I started crying on the way home.

 

It's all so stupid. My mother isn't going to die just because I blink, because I look away for a few minutes, or a few days. It's not my willpower that's keeping her alive; my presence doesn't have that kind of power. If it did, Melora would not have died while I lay next to her in bed.

 

I stopped by my mother's house afterward, to tell her I'd been a responsible adult and to give her candy and sherbert. And she told me that the year we went to the Wisconsin Dells, she kept putting off the trip and putting off the trip, kept getting sick and crying--because her mother was having health problems (the gout that eventually led to my grandmother losing her leg), and my mother didn't want to go away.

 

But we went away and nothing bad happened while we were gone. It was fine. I'm to go and have a good time.

 

I keep trying to use that as an mantra.

 

And I'm waiting to fail.

 

I don't even--in this context, what is failure? Not enjoying myself is my best guess, but worrying about it is a great way to keep from having fun, so this is ridiculous.

 

But the drug seems to be working. I'm feeling better. I'm not vibrating, or all tied in knots.

[JoLe]

Day 35

 

Again, taken from my LJ. December 3, 2008

 

So, you remember how right before my trip to New York I was having blood pressure problems, I went to the ER, and then I went to my doctor. When I was in the ER, they gave me Lorazepam, which helped immeasurably, and when I went to my doctor, I told him about this, and kind of pushed him into giving me a prescription.

 

Then I came home, had more blood pressure problems, and got put on blood pressure medicine. I considered going back on my Clonazepam, but apparently it doesn't get along with my blood pressure meds.

 

So, I've been taking what I've got, except I've only been taking one Lorazepam a day instead of two.

 

Anyway, I've still been having a lot of anxiety problems, and other weird things, so I decided to look up Lorazepam and see what kind of problems it can cause.

 

And what I found is, it can be very addictive, very hard to stop taking.

 

This is something I've worried about for a while, only about the Clonazepam, which I used to take daily, back before I went to New York the first time. (I weaned myself off it very slowly with the help of that manic episode.)

 

And, apparently, it becomes less effective with long-term use. (I know, two months isn't exactly long-term.)

 

So I've been thinking of going off it.

 

And then I did something dumb. Monday night, I didn't take my pill.

 

I didn't sleep well; I felt like I wasn't really sleeping, and yet I kept waking up. Finally I woke up wide awake three feeling lousy in undefinable ways except that my forearms felt funny: tingly and pin-prickled and weird. So I got up.

 

And I couldn't get warm, which probably had nothing to do with anything beyond being out of bed in a cold house at three in the morning. And I was sick to my stomach, which is hard to attribute, since I'd gone to bed at ten-thirty, so all I'd had was four hours of bad sleep, and anything less than six hours will have me in the bathroom repeatedly.

 

I called my doctor's office because if you're having an emergency, they'll have a nurse call you back. So, a nurse called me back, and I told her about skipping a dose (though not that I'd done it on purpose), and how I was feeling.

 

Well, one missed dose couldn't cause that, but I should probably take my dose now. Or half a pill. Could I take half a pill?

 

I could take half a pill, only I didn't. I took a whole one.

 

And then she told me I could take my regular pill at bedtime, only maybe a little later than usual.

 

I thanked her, said goodbye.

 

I watched some TV, then went to work. Amazingly, I had a really good day yesterday. I kind of felt like I was on the edge of something bad happening, but I moved slowly through my day and nothing bad happened. I fell asleep in my chair about six thirty, woke up, and went to bed at seven-thirty (after taking half a pill). I slept well, only woke up once at midnight, to go to the bathroom.

 

Today wasn't a bad day. I woke up at three thirty (which isn't unreasonable if you go to bed at seven thirty). It was my day to bring food to work, so I got up and cooked.

 

Around seven I started getting that feeling in my arms, so I took half a pill.

 

I know I should talk to my doctor about this, but before I do, I want to talk to Laurel. I'm afraid I'm going to have to argue with the doctor, and I want somebody on my side before I go. Or maybe she can refer me to a psychiatrist, who might be able to help me more.

 

I'm so ambivalent about drugs. I owe a lot to some of the drugs I've taken, but I have such weird reactions to them, I don't consider them trustworthy. I don't like the idea of the drug being in control.

 

And while I trust my doctor to a certain extent, I don't know how much I can count on him; I don't know that I can depend on him to keep prescribing this drug (which is a controlled substance) for as long as I need it--either to take it, or to get off it.

 

I feel really stupid about this, and--ashamed. I don't know why. But part of keeping my head down yesterday was not thinking on it too deeply, because I was pretty sure if I did, I'd've really crashed.

 

I've taken a whole pill for tonight. I'm going to stick with my regular schedule at least until I see Laurel next week.

[Altostrata]

Oh-oh. Good description of discovering you're addicted to a benzo.

 

It doesn't take an addictive personality to get addicted. Your number comes up, you get addicted.

 

Don't blame yourself, JoLe, doctors hand benzos out like candy. And then they know nothing about getting you off them.

[JoLe]

Oh-oh. Good description of discovering you're addicted to a benzo.

 

It doesn't take an addictive personality to get addicted. Your number comes up, you get addicted.

 

Don't blame yourself, JoLe, doctors hand benzos out like candy. And then they know nothing about getting you off them.

 

 

Thank you. It was a very disturbing time for me.

[JoLe]

Day 36

 

LiveJournal's been down for a day or so, so my next post is unavailable for me to copy. Maybe tomorrow!

 

I'm doing fine. I took my little scale over to show my mother the other day, and to show her my methodology, hoping to set her mind at ease. She was fascinated by the scale and said there was no way she'd have the patience to deal with those little grains. "Sometimes I'm my father's daughter," I said, and she laughed and agreed.

 

I hope everyone's doing well.

[JoLe]

Day 37

 

Still doing fine!

[summer]

Day 37

 

Still doing fine!

 

That's wonderful!

[JoLe]

 

Day 37

 

Still doing fine!

 

That's wonderful!

 

Thank you! And how're you doing?

[JoLe]

Day 38

 

Things progress. I'm certainly doing better than LiveJournal.

[summer]

 

Thank you! And how're you doing?

 

I'm doing so well that I'm starting to get a little nervous. Keeping fingers and toes crossed.

[JoLe]

 

 

Thank you! And how're you doing?

 

I'm doing so well that I'm starting to get a little nervous. Keeping fingers and toes crossed.

 

Yay for you!

 

(I only uncross mine to type.

[JoLe]

Day 39

 

Same old, same old.

[JoLe]

Day 40

 

Still the same.

[JoLe]

Days 41 & 42

 

Sorry for the missed day, I've got a sick-to-my-stomach headache. I don't think it's got anything to do with the Cymbalta, it's probably a combination of allergies and this godawful heat. I'm eating saltines, drinking ginger ale, and not doing much.

[summer]

Days 41 & 42

 

Sorry for the missed day, I've got a sick-to-my-stomach headache. I don't think it's got anything to do with the Cymbalta, it's probably a combination of allergies and this godawful heat. I'm eating saltines, drinking ginger ale, and not doing much.

 

I hope you feel better! I think you should move to California... it's warm some days, even hot... but not like where you are! Sending some air-conditioning... ... and more ginger ale.

[JoLe]

 

Days 41 & 42

 

Sorry for the missed day, I've got a sick-to-my-stomach headache. I don't think it's got anything to do with the Cymbalta, it's probably a combination of allergies and this godawful heat. I'm eating saltines, drinking ginger ale, and not doing much.

 

I hope you feel better! I think you should move to California... it's warm some days, even hot... but not like where you are! Sending some air-conditioning... ... and more ginger ale.

 

Thanks!

 

I've lived here all my life, and I do not remember a time when the weather was this bad for this long. Even when it's not hot, it's humid and yuck outside. Hell for a fresh air fiend like me.

[JoLe]

Day 43

 

Still not feeling great, and I've decided not to make any dosage changes until I'm up to par. I don't want to have to try to figure out if what I'm feeling is from the Cymbalta or the weather.

[JoLe]

Day 44

 

The weather cleared and cooled down enough for me to ride my bike this morning, so I'm feeling much better. Debating making my scheduled dosage cut on Tuesday.

[summer]

Glad to read that you are feeling better!

[JoLe]

Glad to read that you are feeling better!

 

Thank you!

[JoLe]

Day 45

 

Another day where I got out to ride my bike in the morning. I'm posting that because I know exercise can play an important part in both mental health and withdrawal.

[JoLe]

Day 46

 

Same old, same old. No exercise--too freaking humid again. I hate summer.

[JoLe]

Day 47

 

I've decided to wait another week before doing another cut.

[Barbarannamated]

JoLe, it feels a bit odd to say I'm 'enjoying' your writing, but hopefully you understand. The 3rd F/FREEZE= excellent. Deer in the headlights reaction that I know so well. Such an important distinction beyond 'fight or flight'. FREEZE is the most helpless and vulnerable of all, IMHO. To not have the instinct or strength to stay and fight or flee, we freeze. I can think of so many times throughout my life when that is exactly what I've done. I think that while on SS/NRIs, I was stuck in FREEZE. I couldn't seem to gather the strength to fight to make change in any positive direction. Or even a negative direction (going with the theory that even a bad decision is better than no decision). I will be pondering that for awhile!

'Stealth orgasm'... anticlimactic? ;-o

You said so many things that I relate to. I look forward to reading more.

A book in the works--definitely!

[Barbarannamated]

Can we clone Laurel? Does she recognize fuschia (sic?) ?

I've had zero luck w therapists since moving away from Orange County and Bonny, who 'got me' so well. she's working w kids in a school system.

I'm afraid of trying anymore therapists or psychiatrists because I end up feeling worse when they don't grasp even a small portion of my pic. I recently went to a holistic Jungian psychiatrist. His card says "I don't LIKE prescribing meds, but I will." Paid $350 for an hour consult (he doesn't take insurance), touched on only a small portion of my story when he said "it will be no less than a work of art to put your life back together" and suggested CBT. I left that appointment and drove and drove and drove, for 7 hours, trying to process what had just transpired and why I was feeling so defeated. A freaking "work of art to put my life back together"??? Did he seriously say that OUT LOUD?? That is supposed to be helpful HOW??

Just a few weeks before, when talking about my screwed up family situation with my psychiatrist of 15 yrs, he said to me 'WOW--You really ARE alone'. IT TOOK 15 YEARS TO COME TO THIS REALIZATION?? He has spent alot of time w me, not just med checks, and knows of my bad marriage and family that I've had to distance from (drug addict sister who threatens to kill me when high--once from hospital bed--and parents who have enabled for 30 years).

No, I have little to no faith in therapists at this point (these 2 were MDs, but have had equally bad experiences w LCSWs, PhDs, etc.)

The ordeal with the friend, hospitalization, police... scary. SCARY! That someone across the country --who the police dont have any knowledge of--can, with a simple phone call, trigger a forced hospitalization, is unbelievable. I could feel the anxiety as you try to show evidence, prove to the police, that you're ok. But 'crazy and a danger until proven otherwise' prevails if ever diagnosed or in system. This happens far too often and makes it very difficult to get to a place of expressing emotions in any healthy way, especially anger. I will go out on a limb and say that the inability to express anger from a young age is probably common among us and a significant contributor to depression.

Is anyone famiar with the SAFE HARBOR program? It may be affiliated with MindFreedom, not certain.

Sorry if this message is all over the place. I'm on my little mobile and can't see earlier messages.

[Altostrata]

....I will go out on a limb and say that the inability to express anger from a young age is probably common among us and a significant contributor to depression....

 

Excellent insight! In addition, my guess is a lot of us don't make a priority of taking care of ourselves, either because we take care of others first or we don't think we're worthy of our own attention.

[Nadia]

Can we clone Laurel? Does she recognize fuschia (sic?) ?

 

I want a Laurel, too, if you figure out the cloning thing.

 

I'm afraid of trying anymore therapists or psychiatrists because I end up feeling worse when they don't grasp even a small portion of my pic.

 

Same here... I once had a Buddhist therapist... thought that was going to be great. But she dropped me like a hot potato when I had a huge crisis and ended up in the hospital. She said it was too much for her to handle. I can appreciate that, but then maybe you're in the wrong business?? It made me feel awful. Worst of all, she had me come in to a therapy session to announce this and charged me for it.

 

The last time I tried to go to a therapist/psychiatrist he announced to me, after only 5 minutes of knowing me, that I was a severely damaged person who could not take any kind of rejection and who caused people to abandon me because of my neediness. He said I was unable to say NO to anyone about anything. Pfft! There was, of course, truth in all of it, but not to the degree he was stating it, and based on mostly assumptions on his part. At the time I was suffering extreme anxiety from a past attempt at discontinuing ADs. He took advantage of my weakness to try to assert his "knowledge"... it's a power play that may work for him sometimes... but I quickly showed him just how effective I was at saying NO when I needed to.

 

I would like to find a therapist I can trust and who gets me... but it seems like such a huge undertaking.

 

The ordeal with the friend, hospitalization, police... scary. SCARY! That someone across the country --who the police dont have any knowledge of--can, with a simple phone call, trigger a forced hospitalization, is unbelievable. I could feel the anxiety as you try to show evidence, prove to the police, that you're ok.

 

I think JoLe dealt with it very, very well! For me, it was extremely frightening to find out just how much power the state can have over you. It happened to me with my first hospital stay, as well. They gave me the option of voluntarily checking myself in, or officially having me committed. Pfft... "voluntary"! But at least I got the option, because otherwise it would have gone "on my record" that they forcibly had me committed.

 

Like JoLe says, once they see you as "crazy", it does not matter how well you articulate your perspective on what is going on. Argh.. which reminds me of several other horribly infuriating interactions I've had with mental health "professionals".

 

I will go out on a limb and say that the inability to express anger from a young age is probably common among us and a significant contributor to depression.

 

Yes, yes, yes.

 

Is anyone famiar with the SAFE HARBOR program? It may be affiliated with MindFreedom, not certain.

Sorry if this message is all over the place.

 

Not familiar with it at all...

 

JoLe, sorry for hijacking your thread! Hope you holding fast and doing OK with your taper.

[JoLe]

JoLe, it feels a bit odd to say I'm 'enjoying' your writing, but hopefully you understand. The 3rd F/FREEZE= excellent. Deer in the headlights reaction that I know so well. Such an important distinction beyond 'fight or flight'. FREEZE is the most helpless and vulnerable of all, IMHO. To not have the instinct or strength to stay and fight or flee, we freeze. I can think of so many times throughout my life when that is exactly what I've done. I think that while on SS/NRIs, I was stuck in FREEZE. I couldn't seem to gather the strength to fight to make change in any positive direction. Or even a negative direction (going with the theory that even a bad decision is better than no decision). I will be pondering that for awhile!

'Stealth orgasm'... anticlimactic? ;-o

You said so many things that I relate to. I look forward to reading more.

A book in the works--definitely!

 

Thank you! And it's not odd to say you're enjoying my writing; I've been writing a long time and I know how to entertain. If I wanted my life to sound tragic, I could spin it that way, but that's not how I see it or want to present myself. I'm a person with problems who finds life pretty funny, and I like to share the funny part.

 

It took me so long to recognize that 3d F, I'm so happy it's resonating with other people.

 

I love stealth orgasms being anticlimactic! That's just perfect!

 

And there are things I can write about that would be on topic. Thanks so much for the interest!

[JoLe]

Can we clone Laurel? Does she recognize fuschia (sic?) ?

I've had zero luck w therapists since moving away from Orange County and Bonny, who 'got me' so well. she's working w kids in a school system.

I'm afraid of trying anymore therapists or psychiatrists because I end up feeling worse when they don't grasp even a small portion of my pic. I recently went to a holistic Jungian psychiatrist. His card says "I don't LIKE prescribing meds, but I will." Paid $350 for an hour consult (he doesn't take insurance), touched on only a small portion of my story when he said "it will be no less than a work of art to put your life back together" and suggested CBT. I left that appointment and drove and drove and drove, for 7 hours, trying to process what had just transpired and why I was feeling so defeated. A freaking "work of art to put my life back together"??? Did he seriously say that OUT LOUD?? That is supposed to be helpful HOW??

Just a few weeks before, when talking about my screwed up family situation with my psychiatrist of 15 yrs, he said to me 'WOW--You really ARE alone'. IT TOOK 15 YEARS TO COME TO THIS REALIZATION?? He has spent alot of time w me, not just med checks, and knows of my bad marriage and family that I've had to distance from (drug addict sister who threatens to kill me when high--once from hospital bed--and parents who have enabled for 30 years).

No, I have little to no faith in therapists at this point (these 2 were MDs, but have had equally bad experiences w LCSWs, PhDs, etc.)

The ordeal with the friend, hospitalization, police... scary. SCARY! That someone across the country --who the police dont have any knowledge of--can, with a simple phone call, trigger a forced hospitalization, is unbelievable. I could feel the anxiety as you try to show evidence, prove to the police, that you're ok. But 'crazy and a danger until proven otherwise' prevails if ever diagnosed or in system. This happens far too often and makes it very difficult to get to a place of expressing emotions in any healthy way, especially anger. I will go out on a limb and say that the inability to express anger from a young age is probably common among us and a significant contributor to depression.

Is anyone famiar with the SAFE HARBOR program? It may be affiliated with MindFreedom, not certain.

Sorry if this message is all over the place. I'm on my little mobile and can't see earlier messages.

 

Your message is definitely not all over the place. I know how hard it is to find a good therapist, and how lucky I am to have found Laurel. And I know how debilitating it can be to open yourself up to someone who doesn't get you, where you start to wonder if you're even speaking the same language. I'd never tell anyone to keep trying; you have to let your own energy determine what you do.

 

Your work of art guy sounds like he thought he was Pygmalion, and the other one just sounds clueless.

 

I'm not familiar with SAFE HARBOR, but it has a comforting name. Maybe it would be good to look into?

[JoLe]

 

Can we clone Laurel? Does she recognize fuschia (sic?) ?

 

I want a Laurel, too, if you figure out the cloning thing.

 

I'm afraid of trying anymore therapists or psychiatrists because I end up feeling worse when they don't grasp even a small portion of my pic.

 

Same here... I once had a Buddhist therapist... thought that was going to be great. But she dropped me like a hot potato when I had a huge crisis and ended up in the hospital. She said it was too much for her to handle. I can appreciate that, but then maybe you're in the wrong business?? It made me feel awful. Worst of all, she had me come in to a therapy session to announce this and charged me for it.

 

The last time I tried to go to a therapist/psychiatrist he announced to me, after only 5 minutes of knowing me, that I was a severely damaged person who could not take any kind of rejection and who caused people to abandon me because of my neediness. He said I was unable to say NO to anyone about anything. Pfft! There was, of course, truth in all of it, but not to the degree he was stating it, and based on mostly assumptions on his part. At the time I was suffering extreme anxiety from a past attempt at discontinuing ADs. He took advantage of my weakness to try to assert his "knowledge"... it's a power play that may work for him sometimes... but I quickly showed him just how effective I was at saying NO when I needed to.

 

I would like to find a therapist I can trust and who gets me... but it seems like such a huge undertaking.

 

The ordeal with the friend, hospitalization, police... scary. SCARY! That someone across the country --who the police dont have any knowledge of--can, with a simple phone call, trigger a forced hospitalization, is unbelievable. I could feel the anxiety as you try to show evidence, prove to the police, that you're ok.

 

I think JoLe dealt with it very, very well! For me, it was extremely frightening to find out just how much power the state can have over you. It happened to me with my first hospital stay, as well. They gave me the option of voluntarily checking myself in, or officially having me committed. Pfft... "voluntary"! But at least I got the option, because otherwise it would have gone "on my record" that they forcibly had me committed.

 

Like JoLe says, once they see you as "crazy", it does not matter how well you articulate your perspective on what is going on. Argh.. which reminds me of several other horribly infuriating interactions I've had with mental health "professionals".

 

I will go out on a limb and say that the inability to express anger from a young age is probably common among us and a significant contributor to depression.

 

Yes, yes, yes.

 

Is anyone famiar with the SAFE HARBOR program? It may be affiliated with MindFreedom, not certain.

Sorry if this message is all over the place.

 

Not familiar with it at all...

 

JoLe, sorry for hijacking your thread! Hope you holding fast and doing OK with your taper.

 

Nadia, you're always welcome to "hijack" my threads, especially when I'm AWOL.

 

Next time I see Laurel, I'll ask if she'd mind being cloned. The great thing about her is, she wouldn!t even think that's a strange question!

 

I know for myself, expressing anger always feels like I'm ending something, like if I show my anger, that's the end of the relationship. I never think I'll be "forgiven."

 

I'm just boggling over a therapist who drops you when you're in crisis. Can you imagine a medical doctor doing that? "I'm sorry, you're too sick for me to treat." And then not sending you to a specialist or something. My mind is thoroughly boggled.