No one gets it. . . (Sleep Deprived Anxiety Fueled Rant)
by, 26-Apr-2015 at 10:18 (265 Views)
You know I sit here pondering what to type here to even get across what I'm feeling right now. . . No one understands, not even doctors.
I guess it really started back on Easter weekend, I went to a psyche ward for my anxiety, I wasn't admitted because I'm still in highschool and even though I'm going to be 19 at the end of the month I'm still by the hospitals opinion considered "A minor." Upon being told they basically weren't going to do shit for me but change my medication I was pretty pissed. I spent half the day at that damn hospital going through their process of admittence to be told they can't fucking help me? Seriously?
Then begins the merrygoround of doctors appointments. The only way they could help me is if I terminate seeing my then current doctor and start seeing the doctors at their hospital for my anxiety, outpatient of course. So we agreed, they upped my medication and gave me a supplemental medication to take when I have 'breakthrough anxiety' (Which does jack shit for my anxiety it just knocks me on my ass to the point where I just don't give a damn about life.)
So we agreed to terminate with my then current psychiatrist and psychologist to move to theirs, but we also made an appointment with an independent doctor, glad we kept that appointment too. My anxiety medication was about to run out and I had an appointment with the doctors at this new place and they'd refill it, well our car broke down and we were unable to get to that appointment so we were forced to go to the second opinion doctor for the medication because otherwise I would have been hospitalized for the withdrawal (I'm on some pretty powerful shit.) We go to this appointment and this guy is the biggest asshole there ever was. Not only did he want to change all of my medications (Which I'm not a fan of trying new medications, trying to get off of the damn things not get more added.) And lower the dosage of the one that is actually doing a thing about my anxiety the fucker wants to 'fix me' of wanting to be a girl. Fuck that. So I have an appointment with the hospitals doctors before I'd have to see that fuck again.
So far what I've gathered from the array of doctors I've seen is: They think I'm a junkie. They think I just want the medication, that I want to get high off of the shit they're giving me. No, I'm not fucking getting high off of the shit they're giving me. Nor do I have a wish to get high off of it. When I first started taking it I experienced that high, it's not fun. All I want is for the anxiety to stop. . . I just want the anxiety to stop. . . And these fuckers think I'm trying to get more medicine because I'm addicted. . . You want the truth, Yes, Yes I am addicted, I'm addicted, there I admitted it, I'm fucking addicted to it, but not because I get high off of it, no, that's not why I'm addicted, I'm addicted for a legitimate reason; Because it takes my fucking anxiety away. But that doesn't fly with them, addiction is addiction. Would I like to be off of my medicine? Yes, Do I want to not have to take it? Yes, I'd love nothing more than to never have to take pills every fucking day multiple times a day just to keep myself sane enough not to jump off of a fucking bridge. But does anyone listen? Does any doctor give a fucking shit? No.
No, I could stand in a room filled with doctors screaming at the top of my lungs that if somebody doesn't help me. . . I don't know what I'd do but I know it wouldn't be 'fun' and 'happy.'
And the way a new doctor is so condescending, they're all like that. . . so condescending. . . "It's not going to kill you" "you just have to push through it" "just breathe" YOU FUCKING BREATHE WHEN TI FEELS LIKE YOU'RE CHOKING TO DEATH. YOU FUCKING PUSH THROUGH IT WHEN THE ONLY RELIEF YOU GET IS WHEN YOU TAKE YOUR MEDICATION BUT YOU'VE TAKEN THE DOSE FOR THE DAY. They don't understand. And they never will. . .
And people wonder. . . people wonder why people like me. . . people who are anti-social, people who isolate themselves, people who have the same issues as me fly off the handle and murder a shitload of innocent people, it's because the doctors don't give a fuck. No one will admit it though, the doctors are only there to make money, and if you don't have fucking money they don't give a flying fuck about you or your problems. It's the truth, it's the sad truth about today's society, and you know what? It's pretty fucked up.
There's only one reason why I'm not dead right now. . . why I haven't offed myself. . . and it's the people around me who actually /do/ care. . . I couldn't do that to those people. My parents, my sister, my friends, especially my mother. . . I couldn't do that to her, or any of those people. . . But sometimes it's just too much, the racing thoughts, the feelings, it feels real. . . and these doctors come prancing along on their high horses, none of the doctors I've EVER seen have had anxiety and panic disorder like I have. . . none of them get it, they think 'breathing' and 'pushing through it' and 'having support' is enough. . .
The truth about my life is. . . I don't care anymore. I. Don't. Care. Anymore. I live life this way. . . with this burden on my shoulders of anxiety every day. . . I burden other people with it, my family takes most of the stress of this, sometimes having to stay awake with me for several days at a time because it gets so bad that they're afraid I'd do something to hurt myself. . .
I don't care about my life anymore. . . I just want the anxiety to stop. . . and no one seems to get that. . . No one wants to help. No one cares, no one but the people I'm close to, and they can't do jack shit. And I know it grinds on them that they can't help me, and they say that. . . and it weighs on me. "I wish I could do more to help you" "I wish I could help you" "There's nothing more I can do." EVERYONE I know says that. . . and that makes me feel bad. . . sometimes the things people say unintentionally hurt more than the things they don't say. The truth.
Maybe, maybe the doctors and all of those 'professional' people with a fancy piece of paper that makes them qualified to talk about it are right. Maybe I'm addicted, maybe I just need to 'push through it' maybe I just 'need to breathe.' But maybe they're wrong. You know a doctor the other day told me. "I'm right and any other doctor or opinion you'll see is wrong."
I don't even remember where I was going with this post. I just needed to rant all of that. . . get it off of my chest, what I'm thinking, what it feels like to be in my position. I was let down by the system six years ago. The 'no child left behind' . . . that's a crock of shit. But that's a rant for another time. For now I'm going to bed, I haven't slept in a while, maybe I'll feel better when I wake up later. . .
You know its funny. . . all of this is continuing to happen on my birthday week, my birthday is Wednesday. . . Happy birthday me. . . Goodnight. Peace.
And if you take anything from this blog post, Don't stop caring about people, don't toss someone aside because they have a label. Don't let your friends slip through the cracks, help one another, love one another and maybe, just maybe the world won't be such a fucked up place where people fall through the cracks. . . And to those of you who are like me, in my shoes, don't give up. I know you want to, I want to too, but don't do it, if you give up you let the assholes who don't help win.
Goodnight, for reals this time.