Stress was getting the better of me. Depression was getting extreme. I couldn’t sleep for more than a couple of hours a night. I could hardly eat. I was jumpy at the slightest thing. I was getting irritable and snappy at everyone. I had gone beyond crying. I was 
starting to harm myself to get a release from the mental and emotional pain. I badly needed help. So I went to a doctor.
I described everything that was happening, and everything that I was feeling. The doctor prescribed an anti-depressant and told me to come back in a week. I went home. I took the anti-depressant as prescribed. Everything got worse. I was more depressed. I was more stressed. I was sleeping less. After a week, I went back to the doctor.
I told the doctor how things were getting worse. He increased the dose of the anti-depressant and told me to come back in two weeks. I went home. I took the anti-depressant as prescribed. Everything kept getting worse. I stopped sleeping altogether. I was harming myself more often and more severely. I wandered around like a zombie. I was having epileptic-like seizures. Two weeks later, I went back to the doctor.
I told him everything. He increased the dose of anti-depressant. I didn’t know anything about anti-depressants, so I continued to follow his prescription. He told me to come back in two weeks. I didn’t make it back to the doctor after two weeks, for a week later I was in hospital.
Three weeks without any sleep can really mess up anyone’s mind, if indeed it doesn’t kill them. As if the stress, depression, paranoia, and anxiety I was suffering wasn’t bad enough, add seizures and insomnia to the equation, and my mind can end up in a very dark place. Three weeks without sleep and I never could have imagined the places my mind went… until it happened.
I can’t remember much about it and what I can remember is very vague with snippets of clarity. I I can remember sitting on my bedroom floor with blood pulsing out of an artery and running down my white nighty. I can remember the thought of how cool that looked in a gothic horror kind of way. I can remember the thought of showing it to my ex-hubby, who was staying at my place at the time, because he was into goth-type stuff. I can remember walking down the hallway and hearing the shower going and thinking that if I sat under a warm shower all the blood would wash away. I can remember walking into the bathroom to be greeted by my ex-hubby’s scream. I can remember the thought that went through my head at hearing that scream.
I didn’t think he screamed because I walked in on him in the shower. I didn’t think he screamed at the sight of the blood gushing out of my arm all over me. I thought he screamed because he thought I was going to kill him as I still had the scalpel in my hand. I held out the scalpel and said, “I think you’d better take this.”
That is not the mind of a sane person!
I can’t remember anything after that except that I know that three days later, I had a total breakdown and ended up in hospital for a while. My only memory of that is being home with just my kids and my then youngest started throwing coffee cups at me. I was told that my eldest son called emergency when I started throwing things around as well, and the police and ambulance officers found me curled in a tight ball in the corner of the room with cuts on me. I can’t remember any of that. Whatever happened, I’m just grateful my kids weren’t hurt by me!
Anti-depressants are useful for controlling moods by altering the brain chemistry. They take a few weeks to start working properly, and in the first couple of weeks they can have some negative effects on some people. That is why there are so many different types of anti-depressants. What works for one person may not work for another. The anti-depressant that the doctor put me on was not a good one for me to take obviously. He didn’t listen to me properly when I described the lack of sleep and things getting worse for me with each visit. He should have taken me off that anti-depressant and tried another one. He should have prescribed another temporary medication, to settle me while the anti-depressant took effect properly. He should also have given me a referral for proper councelling.
After I got out of hospital, I went to a different doctor, who did all the things the first doctor should have done but didn’t. We eventually found that it took a combination of three different medications to work for me properly. I also started seeing a psychologist and a psychiatrist. Eventually I was able to slowly reduce and go off all the medication for a while, although I still have difficult periods where I need them.
The moral to this story is:
- If you need help, get help before it gets to be a serious problem.
- Make sure that whoever you are seeking help from pays proper attention to what you are saying.
- If you aren’t satisfied with their diagnosis or recommendations, get a second opinion.
- If something is not working for you, get a second opinion and be willing to try something else.
- Find out about any medications that are prescribed for you and what the side effects could be.
- Be aware that some medications, including anti-depressants, take a while to start working properly, and be more aware that suddenly stopping taking them can also have very negative results. Many medications need to be weaned off of if you are to stop taking them safely.
- If you are feeling suicidal, don’t be alone, have someone with you; and remove everything that you could use to harm yourself with.
Stay safe and stay sane.
(May 13th) (
