A Peek into my Simply Complex Life

Swimming in the deep blue is a bigger challenge than I enjoy accepting. I've been swimming for at least five years now if not more. I'm only eighteen and I'm already exhausted. This has been the hardest thing I can possibly imagine anyone going through in a lifetime. But, I'm not giving up if it's the last thing I do. I can only hope and pray that I am not consumed by my depression before I overcome it. I want to swim on into shore and begin to live my life. I want to be happy, spend time with friends, and have fun. I want to be seen somewhere besides locked up in my bedroom hour upon hour of every day. I want to know who I realy am and what I am truly like. I want to find myself.

I've come a long way in the past two years to get the help I truly need. My mom thinks I am perfect, and of course she wants me to be nothing more than this. Even though her birth mother suffers of schizophrenia and her half sisters suffer of bipolar disorder, she refuses to admit that either or both of us may have a mental illness as well. It took me at least a week to convince her to take me to see my family doctor. After several night of crying and discussing, and many conferences with teachers and other professionals that see me almost daily, my mom took me in to see the doctor. He did a screening which involved a lot of physical and mental questions. Afterward, he put me on a low dosage of Lexapro. He also referred me to see a neurologist as I was having a headache daily, and migraines almost bi-weekly. The neurologist put me on Gabapentin for my headaches and required that I remove all caffiene from my diet and get on a sleep schedule, both of which I thought would be impossible tasks at first. But, after I got into the new habits, my headaches got better. However, I was still having extremely low emotions, and I was often sleeping 18-22 hours a day. The doctor increased my dosage of Lexapro. It didn't help, and my doctor began to feel helpless and clueless. A couple of my teachers at this point were witnessing my extreme sadness as I was crying daily and missing several classes. They talked me into asking my mom about seeing a psychologist. Again, it took a lot of courage and convincing to get her to take me. She took me to a woman that I talked to when I was little while my mom and dad were getting a divorce because she was afraid of someone else "messing me up worse". I started seeing my psychologist about once every two weeks. At first, she seemed to think I was okay, too, and simply dealing with typical teenage problems. However, once my mom gave me more privacy with her, she began to see right through me. As time went on, I kept getting worse. She referred me to my psychiatrist. This is when the medication experimentation began. Upon the first visit, she said that she thought she would diagnose me with a mood disorder, but didn't want to right off until she studied and experiemented with my reactions to medications. She left me on Gabapentin; she said it was actually also used a a "mood stablizer", so it was a very good thing that I was already on it. Then she put me on Effexor XR over the Lexapro. I was on Effexor for maybe three weeks. It had me in horrible condtions with manyn side effects, the worst being that of suicidal thoughts. I stopped taking them on my own because of it until my mom noticed. She called the doctor, and the increased the dosage. This didn't help mugh either, as then I was simply 'emotionless'. I couldn't cry, laugh, or anything. I was almost just like a zombie sleep walking through life. I didn't care...about anything. So then my psychiatrist put me on Wellbutrin, which is what I am on currently. It seemed to be helping, but I was still getting many highs and lows. In my most recent visit, she tripled my Gabapentin dosage and doubled my Wellbutrin. My mom got very upset with this. She now wants me to stop seeing all of my doctors and to get off all medications. I knew she was just scared and tried to talk to her about it. It ended up in a huge fight in which she revealed that she was simply scared that I would end up like her sisters on disability and having no life.

It's been a hard few weeks. It's now Christmas Eve and I am still extremely depressed. I have been on the verge of crying all day, but managed to hold it in all but once around 3PM. I'm sure when I lie down for the night my pillow will be flooded. It is an aweful feeling that I am so depressed like this when I have so much and knowing how many families out there are so happy even with nothing, just realizing the true meaning of Christmas. I am going to go to bed and talk to the Man for a little bit in hopes of a little comfort and relief from this pain inside. I've come such a long way, and it could all be 'wasted time and effort' with in the snap of my mom's fingers. This is so hard, but I'm trying to keep my faith in the Lord that he will somehow bring me through this.


When you worry, read Matthew 6: 19-34.

When you are lonely or fearful, read Psalm 23.

When you are in sorrow, read John 14: 1-6.

When God seems far away, read Psalm 139.



Happy Birthday, Jesus Christ. Merry Christmas to all.