Life...One Step at a Time

For those following my blog and not on my Facebook, you aren't aware of the struggles I've had over the last week. Anyway, I recently attempted suicide, wanting to slit my wrists and sit in a hot tub of water. Seeing myself like this scared me, so I sought out the help of a psychiatrist in the ER, which made me feel much worse. A few days later, I had an appointment with a different psychiatrist, where I not only mentioned what happened on Tuesday, but what I was experiencing. On the outside, I portrayed a life that was well put-together. On the inside, I was falling to pieces.

I had made the appointment a week prior to when I actually went. I was concerned because I was manifesting what I thought to be symptoms of Schizophrenia, and then I began to show symptoms of depression. I couldn't concentrate on the things I loved the most, and I didn't have any desire to do things that I used to love doing, which were the symptoms of the depression. I also didn't trust people and I didn't want to help others because of the fact that I felt that they would use me. I also questioned what other people thought of me, and thought that when people were silent, they were indifferent or they all-out hated me. I also manifested myself as a horse, believing that I had the abilities and functions of a horse. I really believed that my body and my mind was that of a horse, and that I could gallop like a horse. I reared, kicked, jumped and whinnied like a horse. I wanted to be around horses, to socialize with them because I knew, inside, I wasn't human, but I was horse. I had no interest in people, but I had interest in animals instead. These were the symptoms of Schizophrenia that I was so scared about.

I was declining gradually over the last few years, becoming more and more cautious about people. The relationships I used to form became distant and something that was only external. I could never truly relate to others, nor could I actually become close to them. I began to hate them, and because I hated people, I hated myself.

For many years, I was afraid of going to a psychiatrist, fearing that the drugs that I would be put on would make me a walking robot, always sleeping and having no emotion. However, I had the decision to make, if I did have Schizophrenia by chance, would I rather deal with the decline to what my mother experienced, thereby exposing my family to a life similar to mine, or I could deal with the side-effects of the medications? Seeing other people dealing with depression and seeing the other route made the choice easy, I would face my fears and seek the opinion of another.

The diagnosis was major depressive disorder and I was prescribed Prozac for during the day. I was also prescribed an anti-psychotic, Risperdal, that I would take at night. I did my own research on this and Risperdal is used to treat Schizophrenia, so I may have Schizophrenia. If I do, this will be treated with the Risperdal.

It has been two days since I have started the medication, so there is still a ways that I need to go before feeling the full effects. I am starting to sleep and eat better than I was over the past week, but I know that I won't feel the full effects until about two or so weeks. Thing is, I am not experiencing negative side-effects yet, which is a good thing.

As this week ends, I am thankful that the worse is over and I am optimistic about the future. I hope that some of the problems I have experienced will be resolved, and that maybe one day in the future, I can help my mom, who is more mentally ill than I, to get the help that she needs. For now, I will take life one step at a time.