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Apr. 29th, 2006 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azdesertroseAfter spending all of last Saturday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in bed with migraine, able to move only if I took Percoset (prescribed for my stepdad last July but sitting in the medicine chest unused), I looked up the side effects of Wellbutrin and found that severe headaches are a BAD side effect (as are tremors, which I'd been having issues with, too), and you're supposed to call your doctor if they happen. Well, I don't exactly have a doctor, until Monday, because the prescribing doctor pretty much told me I was on my own to find care once I was discharged from the hospital. So, I quit taking the Wellbutrin; Tuesday was the last time I took any. I couldn't see straight for the pain, and I could hardly function for the shaking in my hands.
I saw my counselor again on Thursday and told her about the med thing; she didn't really say anything about it but I got the impression that she thought it was probably a good idea to stop taking the meds since they were causing such problems, and since I'm going to see a psychiatrist on Monday anyway, it's not like I'll be completely unmedicated for very long anyway.
One thing that sort of annoyed me though, about the counselor appointment, is that I mentioned that the headaches felt like a combination of a migraine and tension headaches; her solution to that was to give me a sheet of instructions for deep-breathing exercises. Okay. Yeah.
All of this goes to my conviction that nothing is going to help. I'm withholding judgment on the psychiatrist until I see him, but it just doesn't feel like anything really helps. I can distract myself if I stay busy, but once I'm alone with my thoughts, it's the same old same old, hopeless worthless and broken beyond repair.
Not to mention being tired of trying all this shit anyway. It only helps for a little while, and only if I can afford the help.
I can't be fixed; I am too badly broken, and it happened too long ago. It's just too late for me. There is no way that I will ever be okay. I'm not going to make it. I know this.
I'm doing all this to humor Cliff, but he's going to get tired of spending money trying to fix me when I can't be fixed.
It's only a matter of time; I'm not going to make it.
I saw my counselor again on Thursday and told her about the med thing; she didn't really say anything about it but I got the impression that she thought it was probably a good idea to stop taking the meds since they were causing such problems, and since I'm going to see a psychiatrist on Monday anyway, it's not like I'll be completely unmedicated for very long anyway.
One thing that sort of annoyed me though, about the counselor appointment, is that I mentioned that the headaches felt like a combination of a migraine and tension headaches; her solution to that was to give me a sheet of instructions for deep-breathing exercises. Okay. Yeah.
All of this goes to my conviction that nothing is going to help. I'm withholding judgment on the psychiatrist until I see him, but it just doesn't feel like anything really helps. I can distract myself if I stay busy, but once I'm alone with my thoughts, it's the same old same old, hopeless worthless and broken beyond repair.
Not to mention being tired of trying all this shit anyway. It only helps for a little while, and only if I can afford the help.
I can't be fixed; I am too badly broken, and it happened too long ago. It's just too late for me. There is no way that I will ever be okay. I'm not going to make it. I know this.
I'm doing all this to humor Cliff, but he's going to get tired of spending money trying to fix me when I can't be fixed.
It's only a matter of time; I'm not going to make it.
