Ok, so update on my post about psychiatrists yesterday. Apparently now most psychiatrists don’t even do therapy – only meds. So I have to go to a whole other place for counseling.

What a racket. I mean, shouldn’t we be able to go to a psychological professional that can take care of our whole person, instead of just one piece? That doesn’t help anyone get the full picture.

Well, the good news is I have an appointment this week with a therapist, and an intake visit next week with a psychiatrist. I won’t get in to see the psychiatrist until May, but that actually works well for me. Summer is my slow time at work, so adjusting to the meds won’t cause much trouble.

So, the ball is rolling. I’m taking steps toward a better me. I have to admit, filling out the questionnaire for the therapist yesterday made me feel nuts – having to list all of my issues. But that’s why I’m seeking help. This isn’t a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps and keep going” situation. This is a deep, dark hole that needs a rope ladder. I’ve started to put the ladder together. Soon, someone will be up top ready to catch it – then I can slowly climb out.

Here’s hoping.


It really shouldn’t be this fucking hard to get help.

There are literally only 5 psychiatrists near me that accept my insurance.

Two are for children. Two are only doing meds, not therapy.

That leaves one option. Now I’m just waiting for a call back.

I hope he’s decent.

And people wonder why people with mental health don’t get help. It’s hard enough to get yourself to the point where you’ll ask for the help… then when you finally do, it’s a fucking obstacle course just trying to find the help.

My brain is enough of an obstacle – finding help shouldn’t be.

So goddamn frustrating.


Mixed states are the very definition of insanity. When you have all this energy but all you want to use it for is being depressed. It’s during the mixed states that the anger is at its worst – it’s like my brain is frustrated with the state of chaos in which it finds itself so it channels that into a nagging feeling of being really pissed off – except you have no idea why.

Why. That’s such a double-edged word. I have reached the end of my tether with people asking me why I’m depressed.

What’s wrong? You seem down.

I am.


Because depression.

And then the inevitable next question: What’s making you depressed?

The chemicals in my brain are making me depressed. Sure, the state of my physical health adds to that, but the root cause is that my brain can’t figure what the fuck it’s doing with my emotional state.

Let’s have a depressed day! We’ll celebrate with not getting off the couch except to overeat followed by some suicidal ideation! How’s that sound?

That sounds like a fucking hoot, let me tell ya.

Oh, wait! I’ve changed your mind! Let’s be manic and spend so much money your checking account gets overdrawn then follow that up with risky hypersexual behavior that you will definitely regret later!

Awesome, thanks.

Actually, I can’t decide. So let’s do BOTH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Fuck you, brain. All I want is some normalcy. Some predictability. Some boring, everyday, routine. But, no. Throw in the fact that I am now in a rapid-cycling hell that makes it impossible sometimes to even have a single day of feeling one way or the other and it’s just too much bear.

The burden is overwhelming. I carry this weight, this ongoing battle in my mind on my shoulders and each day I hunch over a little farther. Soon, I won’t be able to walk anymore – crushed beneath its load, gasping for breath.

I don’t recognize myself anymore. I used to be awesome; driven, focused, smart.

I used to be me.