By the way, I didn't have a cigarette. I haven't had one since my birthday on February 10, and that was only because I drank so much tequila that I lost all sense of appropriate behavior and smoked a cigarette, danced on the table, lost my panties, was fondled in ... um, yeah ... and returned the kisses of someone's boyfriend.
I haven't had any tequila since then and probably never will again.
Oh, and I'll never return to that restaurant!
So I have quit my 1-3 cigarettes per day habit! Not through will power though. My psychiatrist added li.th.ium to my antidepressant cocktail and now I have no desire to smoke!
I wish the lith.iu.m had been a miracle drug for me as it had for other patients my psychiatrist told me about. Some feelings have been eased, particularly in the early weeks of taking it; I am able to stop an anxiety attack from becoming full blown, which probably explains part of why I don't want to smoke.
The le.xap.ro gives confidence. The traz.o.done mercifully knocks me the fuck out at night.
I see either my therapist or psychiatrist at least once a week, although this is cutting back from what they (and I) think is necessary, but I'm on a tight budget now.
What is missing? Seriously, what is missing? I've been sui.c.idal since November (panic not, for my doctors know this and I don't want to break my mom's heart by killing myself) and it is a really painful way to live. Waking up everyday feels so wrong.
Before moving on to the next set of medications to try (those would be antipsychotics, guess how awesome that makes me feel, but my psychiatrist has seen these be effective for depression because your view of the world can be shifted from being so gloomy), I've been referred to an additional therapist. This Wednesday I'm trying out Brainspotting.
After trying therapy (outpatient and inpatient), medications, affirmations (although half-assed), avoiding alcohol (most of the time now), getting adequate rest, spending time with friends, I'm still incredibly depressed and, by now, resistant to believing that anything will help. But as Wednesday inches closer I'm getting more excited and HOPEFUL.
It's embarrassing feeling this low for this long. I worry that some of my friends are getting frustrated by my avoidance of clubs and large parties. They want to see my happy because they love me, but I just can't do it right. Besides my mom, my family has no idea what the last several months have been like for me. I don't want to deal with pressure to feel better from them.
Even here I feel like a straggler in my cohort of deadbaby mama's. I see others taking the difficult, scary, and well earned steps forward, and I am going backwards. The life I wanted and worked towards moves further away every day.
Cross your fingers for Wednesday, and thanks for listening.