#doesnt help that im on ssris

[pinayelf]

.

[transgothicgenre]

[raychromatic]

personal update: yeah i'm kinda going thru it right now. and by "it", i mean SSRI withdrawals

(ive been on sertraline/zoloft for Years, & recently decided to try Not being on it anymore. so ive been gradually tapering off it over the past ~month and a half. i'm in the home stretch now & ooh boy i am feeling the Effects. the good news is that my withdrawal symptoms havent been TOO debilitating, and it shouldn't be too long before my body adjusts to being ssri-free and then all of this will be over!!!! yippee)

[jemamore]

✨

[swampgallows]

.

complaining here because i dont want to burden my friends but still want to collect validation in the form of little pixel hearts

my moms mental state has gotten so much worse and as a result her hoarding is becoming even worse and even more impossible to tolerate. i have tried to have more sympathy about it and to help her with it, sitting with her while she sorts "a box a day" or even just "one thing a day". ive gently recommended she get a new therapist but all she did was change her horse on the SSRI carousel and start smoking weed. i've linked her articles and books and videos, and when she doesnt look at any of them i try to relay to her in conversation what i learned from them when she bemoans "why am i like this?". none of it matters. she just complains that it's "too overwhelming" and she "can't help it" even though she refuses any help at all.

i know it is a mental disorder. i know it is overwhelming. i know it causes her physical pain to get rid of things and at the same time cripples her with guilt to keep it all. but as of right now all we're trying to get her to do is just rearrange the things so that they aren't turning our house into a fucking obstacle course, and she pushes back on that too. like she doesn't want to even organize the piles AS THEY ARE and condense them because she'd rather be "actually throwing things away and putting things away like a human being!"—the thing that she very specifically CANNOT do.

and if we consolidate it on our own? hooooly christ. she goes on a fucking rampage, slamming doors, screaming/sobbing, throwing shit (her shit. it's all her shit). because it's HER stuff and WE touched it and she feels guilty about all her stuff. she STILL talks about when my sister tidied the spice cabinet, convinced that "she threw everything away!" and that was years ago. (my sister is a different kind of insane and probably DID throw a bunch of shit away, but either way all it did was give my mom ammunition for the rest of her life to never do anything.)

this is long enough already so all i can say is that im disappointed in myself for losing more of my tolerance and sympathy. like at this point the only reason i care is because i have to fucking live here since i havent been able to stay employed or move out yet and my mental health is also incredibly bad. but also my mom's becoming much more intolerant and hateful as a human being, which makes me less inclined to keep trying. like she deliberately brings up incendiary topics (usually politics), whips herself up into a cyclone of hatred (every '-ism' you can think of) while preemptively apologizing for things that she thinks that we think about the politics that she "doesn't like talking about" despite blatantly shifting the conversation to bring them up, then devolves into histrionic crying or yelling at us for something she has imagined. this is almost every day. i know she's my mom so im trying but christ alive

[bleuberrygliscor]

look not to be that bitch. but i spent years of my life in therapy.

i spent years doing things, reading books, trying to fucking fix my own brain due to my body's really cool way of building up tolerance to my medications. Flip flopping between drugs, between therapists, between group therapy locations, between coping mechanisms both "healthy" and "wildly fucking harmful".

i spent blood, money, and tears on CBT (Cognitive behavioral therapy) because the years of talk therapy i did never helped me heal (and im sure my therapist that i lovingly refer to as Miss M got tired of watching me trigger myself trying to explain my fucked up brain). and Neither of those things worked for me. it was fucking crushing going to group, week after week, and watching people who lost spouses, lost jobs, actively threatened to kill themselves, get better and stop coming. to attend an anxiety group session only to have the therapist attempt to remodel one of the exercises in real time due to me being unable to close my eyes for more than a minute, playfully commenting about me cracking the arm of the plastic chair from gripping it so tightly. to watch a rotating cast for almost a year, and still be the only one left, passing them on the way to the pharmacy on the first floor and hearing that they've been doing better. the pure jealousy in watching people who were, by all accounts, fucking worse than me, recovering and yet here i was, getting some other ssri to try for the next six weeks and hope my manic episode doesnt freak out my friends.

but i figured out something recently.

i have been journaling for years, since 2002, very infrequently, at the behest of my second therapist. he suggested that writing things down would be best for me. He was very fucking wrong. i hated doing it. it just made me feel worse, lamenting my dull life, tired of writing that i did the same 3 things again today (went to school - did homework - slept). so i joined journaling subreddits and communities later on, and to the surprise of no one i hated it even more with the added competition from people who wrote nicer than i did, took better notes, led interesting lives, when my highlight was "i downloaded an mp3 from mp3bee today and i didnt get rickrolled :D". but this month (literally the last 3 days) ive been scrapbooking instead. and not just that, I've not even been talking about the nothing that i do, literally today was a nightvale quote, and im excited to do something tomorrow.

This is a really long fucking tangent, but my point is that i spent years trying to be everyone else, trying to do the shit that works for other people, and never doing the shit that works for me. fuck i didnt even know it worked for me until Tuesday of this fucking week.

Maybe opening a window, or changing you pjs doesnt help you, but something out there will. youre worth the time it takes to find it.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

no tws i think

looking for advice and comfort.

im struggling right now and its hurting my loved ones. theyve become almost numb to my struggles and its hard for them to keep repeating the same comfort theyve given me when it doesnt seem to help. what they dont understand is that it DOES help, at the time. i guess i just need it more frequently? but i understand that its draining to have such a high needs person to comfort all the time and i dont know what to do about that. i feel guilty. i feel sad that im so draining to be around.

my loved ones want me to get better and ive tried to, ive said ill get better before but i just went right back to where i was. im so tired and its so hard. i need to get better for them but im only seventeen and my meds dont seem to be working. theyre frustrated that nothing they do seems to help. i dont know what to do because i keep promising them that ill get better but then i feel bad again and all i want to do is get worse. i dont know how to get out of this pit that ive dug myself into.

Hey serenadotcom,

I'm so sorry to hear you're struggling.

I'm wondering if your parents would be understanding if you asked them to start therapy. If you don't already have a therapist, I think they could help you with what you're dealing with in a more long-term way, and they will also be a better, more experienced support.

If your meds aren't working, it's a good idea to notify your psychiatrist so they can put you on a more effective treatment plan. Please know you're not alone, I've been on over like 7 different SSRIs since 2016 (I'm assuming it's some kind of psychiatric medication you're referring to). It's just about finding your match. That being said, meds aren't a cure-all, and therapy or self-work should be happening in tandem.

I was in a situation very similar to yours several years ago, and it was definitely rough, but it may be relieving to know that you can get out of this tough spot too. You are valid.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[selamat-linting]

i will be forever pissed that my shrink's reaction after i told her my problem is to give me ssri, lorazepam, and tell me to just improve on my own. she doesnt teach me coping methods or anything, just meds. i appreciate the ssri, they actually made me calmer and happier overall, but the other medication...

i already told her. my dad was a meth addict and a drunk. many of my family are addicted to something. my trauma is mostly from seeing domestic violence and the shit my dad does while he's having meth psychosis. i didnt just fear the man or fear dealing with him, i fear of becoming like my dad. but she gave me meds that could be addictive and didnt tell me about the side-effects.

at first i trusted her ofc, because if the one med eventually worked for me, then this one could be great. besides, it worked faster than my ssri, it feels nice to be able to sleep fast, i want to take more. so i made my own research, and i thought she's going to help me taper off lorazepam after the ssri started working. but she doesnt. after a month of taking this med, i met her again and i was told to take the same dose and she told me i'll see her in another appoinment next month. i dont get it, youre not supposed to take this for over four weeks. so after a week of deliberation i decided to quit on my own. especially now that i feel i've been getting by just fine. the meds i took for sleep barely makes any difference now. and holy shit. my anxiety came back at night and it was worse. my hands were shaking and my heart felt like it was running a marathon. i got very angry and did things im embarrassed off later on. i literally had withdrawal symptoms from my own meds. eventually i give up and took it again even if the current dose doesnt do shit.

so, its ironic. my coworkers and some of my comrades took me out drinking, offered me to smoke. but i never get out of hand. i never had a physical dependence or a hangover. i took whatever they offered and get by just fine. i manage to do the "cool things" in moderation. sure, i have my issues, but substance abuse isnt one of them. but when i finally give in and get mental health help for my anxiety, depression, and aggression issues, i end up with this! i have to take a medication that doesnt work on me anymore just so i dont freak out again. i hate it. i feel disgusted that i have to be this way. so yeah, im going to see her again in a couple of weeks with some choice words.

[zhewhoisfate]

Tips and Tricks to eat when you're Depresso™

Because if i need them so do you probably

Eating anything is better than nothing. Seriously. Those two and a half crackers gave you energy you didn't have before, even if you couldn't feel it, and that's a victory.

You don't have to eat it the way it's "supposed" to be eaten. You can eat soup out of the can. Hotdogs don't have to have buns. You can eat sandwich meat without the bread, or vice versa.

Rice cooks just as well in a glass bowl for 5 minutes on high in the microwave as it does on the stovetop for ten. You dont need a fancy cooker bowl. Just stand there and make sure it doesnt over-dry. If the water's gone, it's done. One part water to one part rice.

A can of beans and a handful of onion flakes goes a long way for taste and protein.

Protein and meal replacement bars are your friends.

Juice is good. It's full of nutrients. Make sure it's not grapefruit, because medication, but yeah drink that shit bro. Eat a cracker with it or smthn dry though bc juice on an empty stomach makes your stomach...upset. That's how juice cleanses are supposed to work, in part. It's all the sugar I think.

Food doesn't immediately go bad sitting out for a few hours. If you're afraid of wasting it, dont be. If you feel sick, set it aside and start eating again when you feel like it, whether that's 2 hours or 12. Its honestly safe until you hit the multiple days mark, especially if you heated it.

Eating warm food will make you feel better than cold food, if you can manage it.

You absorb more nutrients from food you enjoy. Yes, that's empirically tested, look it up.

Coffee or tea on an empty stomach are going to make you pee and if you're not lucky, shit. If you're dehydrated, it's going to be worse, and you're going to feel worse, because caffeine is a diuretic, meaning it dehydrates you by making you piss.

Yeah, im gonna tell you to drink water. Im aware its not easy. I've been using the same cup for weeks. Dont message me about this.

That said, cups are cleaner than bottles. They mold less.

Don't chug your water. You know what I'm talking about; you get really thirsty and it finally compels you to go get some water and then you gulp it down like a fish, I know. That's how you make yourself throw up, though, so be careful.

Eating (even an hour or so) after you wake up can help reset your circadian rhythm - useful for when you become nocturnal.

Smaller meals are going to be easier. Use that. You don't have to eat a "full meal." Portions are fake.

Personally, I get nauseous and a headache when im hungry, and eating makes me tired because of the blood sugar spike. Don't fight your body. I mean, if you have diabetes that's different, obviously, but depression can impair your hunger signals. Just eat a little, and sleep when you have to.

This is a little off kilter but don't take cough syrup or pills if you're on an antidepressant. Dextromethorphan can send you to the ER with its interactions and its in many cold medicines as a cough suppressant. If the label says don't take with MAOIs, don't take it with SSRIs either.

Disposable dishes. No, really. You can feel bad about the turtles when you have the capacity to consistantly feel joy.

Alcohol will probably make you feel worse. I know, it sucks, I'm sorry.

Its ok to puke. If you eat and then puke, don't feel bad about wasting the effort or something. The worst thing that happens is your mouth tastes bad and you only absorbed some nutrients instead of all of them. No harm done, just eat slower next time.

Sit in front of a window, or turn your lights on. It sounds stupid, but the more awake and aware you are the easier it is to realize you're hungry.

You're ill, not lazy.

Treat yourself like you're recovering from a cold. It will help the stress, which will help you eat more, which will help you feel better.

Yeah i know its all easier said than done. But it won't always be this hard. Remember that.

[queernuck]

so, last night my dad got home with dinner, was being his usual somewhat odd self, was just generally acting like the asshole he tends to be and it was just kind of business as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, just that he tends to be, well, an asshole. and that wasnt unexpected, he gets like that a lot, and i can deal with it.

yesterday, at some point, I realized that I probably need a refill on my clonazepam script, which I cant verify without asking, who always gets really bitchy about it, who makes sure that she makes it as demeaning and awful of an experience as possible to even talk about these things. she is very good at it, as well, and knows exactly what things to say to be insulting, to be vicious, to make me feel vulnerable and awful and more than anything just makes me feel worthless. and like, this is a routine thing for her, she takes whatever opportunities she can to make me feel this way and is very open about that. i have no idea if she realizes how miserable i am, and if she did then she would likely blame me, would yell at me about not responding to TMS or claim that I ruined its efficacy by doing drugs over the course of treatment (which is...more than a bit ridiculous) or just generally looking at me with contempt

by contrast, my dad at least makes some occasional attempts at reaching out, sometimes seems to have a sense of how much pain i am in, although not really accepting it in full, not really understanding it, not getting it. and last night was just another example of him not getting it, not understanding it. he specifically said that psych meds are apparently to help me get better, are not supposed to be things that you take long-term. which, well, that is something that I might argue in certain circumstances and in fact I want to be off of my SSRI because I feel it has not been helpful, I want to change ADHD meds to one that is a stimulant so that I get actual use out of it instead of it just being...whatever the fuck Strattera IS, as an incredibly expensive drug that has no real usefulness for me, and I want to stay ON Clonazepam because it is at least SOMETIMES helpful, and in fact would like to ADD another benzodiazepine like a high dose of Ativan or a decent prescription of Xanax so that I have something for acute anxiety as well as to treat the underlying and structurally-embedded anxiety I have so much trouble with.

but that is about my own personal needs, as well as an anti-psychiatric perspective that itself flows through being relatively familiar with psychiatry and how it works, how it feels to be in psychiatric care, how psychiatry abuses people. he, on the other hand, just doesnt take the meds hes prescribed because...thats just how he is. like, he doesnt take meds for his thyroid, or B12 despite having an absolutely AWFUL memory, like a fucking ATROCIOUS memory, and has never done anything about likely having ADHD. he just does not give a shit, he just has a perspective on meds that is more than a little bit absurd, and he is proud to impose that on me, too!

and so when I was asking about my clonazepam prescription, how many I had left, kind of anxious because all of a sudden I had fixated on worrying that I maybe didnt have enough, that I maybe would run out, so on, so I asked him to make sure that I had enough for the next few days. I asked this in the evening, after dinner, because I hoped that he would be able to check for me without needing to ask my mom, who would then use it as an opportunity to chastise me or scorn me or whatever. and he was deflecting and asking why I need to know and just generally being obstinate and awful and a fucking asshole, and then he told me to just go downstairs, like as a kind of “go to your room”-esque statement.

and he got mad enough that he was banging his fucking fist on the table, which was terrifying! i was genuinely scared and I wanted to get the fuck out of there so I tried to bolt, pissed and scared and just in an awful fucking mood, and he got mad at me for that too, for storming off when he was the one who was escalating shit.

and then, after all of that, he guilts me into listening to him go on about the mistakes he’s made with me, the ways that he made mistakes more generally, all of that. he said that the biggest mistake he ever made was sending me off to college at Trinity, and like, I don’t know if he meant that in the sense of not making me go to a school that gave me money, or if he thought sending me off to college as a WHOLE is something that he never should have done, or if this or that or the other thing was like, a mistake. I genuinely have no idea. I know that he also said something about it being a mistake to have let me work on a political campaign and that the nastiness of an electoral campaign was awful and that like, I think he was implying that it was what moved me to the left and as a result bad things happened? Im not really sure on that. Im not sure him or my mother realize that like, the beginning of my own major depression, the beginning of the turn that lead to the lows I’ve had since began while I was at school and just kept on getting worse, I have no clue. I do know that they blame me for it, I know they think I just haven’t worked hard enough.

And now I’m here. I’m sad. I’m real fucking sad. I’m lonely. I feel worthless. I feel like an awful person. I also want to get right back to doing the exact sort of things that my parents think make me an awful person! like, I really want some fucking heroin or some coke right now. I really have trouble dealing with the world while im sober, i really hate being forced into sobriety through this, through my parents taking my ID, taking my paychecks, making it so that the only places I go are my workplace and home. I hate it, I fucking hate it and I am so tired of it, so fucking TIRED, that I legitimately want to off myself but am at such a low place that I can hardly even think about figuring out how to go about doing that, how to make it so that I at least can have a glimmer of hope, one last moment of “wow, I at least did some cool things” before I go so that I can feel as if I’m leaving meaningfully.

theyre keeping me relatively close to the sobriety they want but they are doing it by making my life fucking miserable, by making it so that I have to struggle, so that I am basically being hung out unsympathetically to dry. next weekend, while she visits my siblings down in DC, my mom is going to be taking part in a walk against addiction held by a foundation that has been embraced by my aunt after her son, my cousin, died of an OD after a relapse. my mom is a former nurse, and is a fucking unsympathetic person when it comes to addiction and substance abuse. she seems to have no understanding of why people resort to using drugs, she has been mocking and patronizing when talking about my own drug use, and always looks at it in the most awful terms possible. but that’s just who she is, that’s just how my dad is, all of this is where I am stuck right now.

i want to be fucking out.

[h1ghtechl0wlife]

think im on one of the most if not the most expensive ssri after working my way thru all the cheaper shit, and not that more expensive means better or anything but its frustrating to still not be able to just fucking enjoy anything, still still still still. it helps me not lash out so much, not panic so much but i just want to be able to engage with anything, enjoy anything, like anything, have fun, feel anything other than depression and anxiety and hypervigilance and anger. i just wanna live, man, but this doesnt feel like it

[swampgallows]

i was writin it in the tags before i maxed em out but it had me thinking about how much more shit i did in college because i actually had access to shit. for one, there was a viable public transit system there. there was a bus stop literally outside my dorm, and i used to take the bus all kinds of places and just walk around the city and shit. i did tons of things i previously would not have accessible to me because i didnt drive. back when disney passes were cheap as fuck i had days where id swing by disneyland after class just to hop on a ride or two and then go home. i went to parks, beaches, the aquarium, the movies, clubs, raves, morris dancing, restaurants, the mall, and all kinds of shit on my own because i could actually physically fucking get there. the only real challenge a lot of the time was if i bought anything to get it home (i remember walking half a mile with a full length mirror back to my dorm because i kept missing the bus). but the point is that i DID SHIT. i wasnt constantly being micromanaged by people in my environment about what food i bought or what i ate, where i went and when, etc. and i had the resources to actually go fucking do things.

it all came crashing down, i think, when i got into that series of bad relationships. i dont think i was aware of it at the time, but that was about the time that things were ramping up toward something great and then i was betrayed by people close to me and continuously shot down. i didnt know how to process those toxic relationships, and part of me still doesn’t. almost ten years later im still trying to recover from the damage of them. yes, it was the same time that i was having heightened anxiety and the worst period of panic attacks in my life, which were and are awful and shitty, but i also had very understanding and supportive friends who were there for me during that time. it would be no different than if i got very sick and had friends who took care of me. i was having a human experience and because i had a good support network, i was able to cope.

so like. of course i got depressed when my boyfriend would hate-fuck me and embarrass me on purpose in public or in front of his friends. of course i felt too scared and sad to go to class when i was constantly being told my art wasn’t good enough and was a waste of time and “useless to society”. of course i hid in my room playing video games with rude assholes because at least they couldnt touch me. of course i didnt want to open up to people when they told me it was “fascinating the way your mind mistreats you”. 

of course i got suicidal when i got zero weekend days off for three straight years. not even easter sunday, even though greek easter usually falls on a completely separate sunday. of course i didnt want to live anymore when i couldnt see or be with my friends or express myself naturally. of course i would be depressed about waking up at 7am every day to stand in a cold room alone for 8 hours and not even be paid enough to live.

friends and family and past teachers on facebook can encourage me to go on medication, but for what? will a SSRI pay me a living wage? is celexa going to make men treat me better? will prozac install a public transit system in my area, or help me move to a place where a better one already exists? xanax didnt sit in the car with me to teach me to drive and offer support, but it did help me recuperate from the dozens of screaming crying fits and panic attacks i had while orchestrating my own exposure therapy. it took years for me to get acclimated to just sitting in the driver’s seat of my car while it was off without having a complete meltdown and slamming it full speed into the garage to kill myself. because i am still so mad that i learned so late, that nobody gave a shit about me enough to teach me, that i had to shell out hundreds if not thousands of dollars on lessons with complete strangers to learn this skill that has become mandatory for survival in the place i live. i had to use money to replace the love and support normally given by family or my community.

i am trying to condition myself to see my car as an emblem of freedom, but it feels like a cage. it costs so much money, it is so scary and exhausting to operate it, and everything in this world and society is forcing me to use it. and honestly it feels like, because i have it, i have run out of “excuses” for not being employed. that if i have a car, i should be able to go to any job whatsoever and sit in my car in traffic for four hours a day like every other average person in l.a. even at the trader joes i interviewed at THREE TIMES before they eventually didnt bring me on, i would have to drive anywhere from 30-45 minutes to work every fucking day just to work at a fucking grocery store. i know people see those numbers and go ‘psh that’s nothing! my commute is so much longer!’ and that just feels like hustle propaganda. like why are you proud that you have to sit in your car in fucking traffic every day to do a job that you probably could (and now probably do) work at from home?

the shitty case worker i had, tonya, could not offer a suggestion to me when i brougth this up to her. how is medication going to make me more employable? how am i not supposed to blow my brains out when my life is going to be sitting in a car that i struggle to operate to go to a job that doesnt pay me enough to live and then doing that forever until i die? why dont i skip all that and just die right now? why live through that? all she could say was “well, that’s just how it is.” 

The much more obvious answer is that mental disorders, while influenced by genetic factors, are largely caused by trauma and context, and that oppressed groups of people experience way more trauma under capitalism, and are way less able to navigate the context of American society because it was built without them in mind, and in many cases to intentionally harm them.

this is why im going to be mentally ill forever, man. because i can’t fucking adapt to a society that doesn’t care about me. why would i do that? is it not inherently harmful and mentally ill to perpetuate an unhealthy environment? why belong to a society if we don’t care about the people in it? who is society for? if these circumstances were due to a partner, they’d tell me to leave them. if these circumstances were due to my living situation with my family or roommates, they’d tell me to move out. so must i leave society? do i have to live off the grid? do i have to hunt game and skin animals for fur and build my own shelter? even if i wanted to, like many natural peoples, capitalism is taking those things away too. look at first nations and indigenous people. look at the multitudes of the people experiencing homelessness and mental illness simultaneously. 

it is all so obvious when you’re on the outside. no one expects, or wants, people like me to survive. the whole point is that we do not belong to society. the whole point is that capitalism wants me dead. my suicidality means capitalism is working as intended.

[puppiangel]

hi okay i’m really sorry if this is annoying. i was looking through the zoloft tag because my doctor is recommending it to me, and i saw you mention that you had a side affect of weight gain. would you mind describing how much, if you were able to loose it, etc. sorry if this is to personal, i’m just trying to recover from an eating disorder, and hearing that really freaked me out. thank you so much!!

this isn’t annoying, idk if u just sent this but suddenly i was in my inbox & saw this so i hope im not too late!

i got out of the psych ward at 113lbs (im 5′6 if this helps) & went on zoloft in late feb 2017. i got to 125 and in may of that year i got on birth control (so obv more weight gain) and i got to 140. after getting off the pill in august i was going between 135-120 just bc of life and i was smoking a lot of weed and eating food. i wasn’t able to lose it all until i got off of it and now im at 117.

this isn’t personal at all, and i hope this helps! you’ll probably put on around 10 lbs? but it depends on what ur eating & ur life! as u can see i had a lot of other factors too that could explain why i had my weight at that time. i think a lot of SSRIs cause weight gain so please dont avoid them just bc of the potential risk. it doesnt happen to everyone and you wont know til you try it!

best of luck and i hope this helped somewhat

[mymelochan]

i didnt talk about this earlier because i was too upset but im gonna mention it now

i had a bad experience at my psychiatrist today

for the past month, month and a half or so my usual psychiatrist has been out of the office for some reason. i had an appointment with her substitute but then my appendicitis hit and i had to miss it. so i had it today

i get there and i tell the lady ‘hey so ive been REALLY anxious for a long time now and the klonopin i was given last time isnt really doing it for me’

she gives me this knowing look and says something to the effect of ‘yeah, that doesnt surprise me’ and tells me we’ll double my ssri dose. she explains to me that since anxiety & depression have the same root and my meds have helped my depression, that means a higher dose will help my anxiety over a few weeks

im all ok cool! im still really anxious though so can i have like some ativan or something--

‘no, no benzos’

...

???

she goes on to tell me that she only prescribes benzos in the first couple weeks of treatment while they figure out which ssri works. that they ‘mess with your cognition’ and are considered controlled substances by the law

...okay

i just kinda go quiet and mumble something in agreement because at this point im holding back tears

ive been on some form of benzo or sedative since middle school, to take for sleep or on an as-needed basis when i get really anxious. ive been on medication that fucks me up mentally and ive NEVER had a reaction like that with ativan or anything, it just makes me tired and relaxes me

but now im second guessing myself. is the medicine actually bad for me?? am i just an addict?? should i just shut up and deal with it?? i dont know 

i feel like i overreacted/am in the process of overreacting about this, but its still really bothering me and i wanted to get it out 

[crossroal]

mom, when you have depression, sometimes breathing tires you out

mom, when you have anxiety, sometimes you can’t spend too much time with people, including family. you are not exclusive from my mental illness

mom, when you have both anxiety and depression, sometimes you will cry for no reason

mom, sometimes im sad for no obvious reason to you

mom, sometimes i am angry for no obvious reason to you

mom, when i tell you i don't know why im scared, sad, angry, or numb, you becoming angry does not help

mom, sometimes those little things like hanging up a jacket to keep my room clean makes me want to cry

mom, when i feel bored or numb, chores do not help. being assigned another project makes me want to break down and cry

mom, it is okay that you don’t understand my mental illnesses

mom, i do not even understand my mental illnesses fully

mom, do not try to equate the scared-all-the-time anxiety i have to your slight worry about what we will have for dinner

mom, do not push me to tell you things

mom, when you push me to tell you things, i lie

mom, when i say ‘nothing’ or ‘it doesnt matter’ do not force me to explain because i am obviously uncomfortable and i stated my discomfort verbally, just shrouded the words in indifference which really is not that indifferent

mom, do not make me feel guilty for taking meds

mom, both you and dad made me guilty for even asking my doctor and therapist about medication

mom, do not tell me how SSRI’s will hurt my body because my mind is at much more of a risk

mom, understand or try to understand that i do not want meds, but i want to feel better and if that is an efficient tool, i will use it with no regards to what you think about the said tool because you do not know what i go through

mom, do not ever make me feel bad about how i told you about my mental illnesses again

mom, sadness is not depression

mom, i do not give a fuck about what you think of my friends

mom, i do not give a fuck about what you think of SSRI’s/SNRI’s

mom, if my friends are a coping mechanism for me, and you aren't, do not be offended

mom, if i tell you that i like thick eyeliner, do not criticize it because you should be ecstatic that i have the energy to put makeup on

mom, please come to terms with the fact that i may have once called you my best friend, but no more, because you do not try to listen to me. you push me to put myself in uncomfortable situations. you tell me that cleaning my room is simple. you mock me for putting off cleaning my room because it is ‘such a simple task.’ 

mom, we will never be as close as we once were

[lancelotapologist]

oloro replied to your post “cimerie replied to your post “anyone else on an ssri intermittently...”

idk kinda recommend asking abt wellbutrin?? its not as sleepy (when u first start it it can kinda give you a coffee buzz for a couple weeks the recommend to take it in the morning) and it doesnt have as many problems w like ~sexual side effects~ or weight gain. i mean it can b different for everyone so im hesitant to say its affects will b different than what ur on. but im on wellbutrin to counteract the side effects of my other ssris and its been helping a lot!

interesting.........very good info