There have been good days and there have been bad days. Many days I have thought I needed to go back on medication, but usually when I start feeling that way a resolve is also stirred within me to persevere. That resolve has so far been able to carry me through the bad days.
I feel more of an honesty sans medication. Somehow medication felt more like hiding from a problem, rather than dealing with it. The trouble with OCD is that, for the foreseeable future, there is no cure. Only endurance. Medication seems to hide that fact and, though it makes the days more easily bearable, makes acceptance of the need for endurance more difficult.
The lack of medication does cloud my thoughts, however, as racing thoughts return unbridled by pharmacology. This becomes most unmanageable in instances when I am completely unaware of how racing the thoughts have become. Particularly when I am enjoying the racing thoughts. Not all of OCD is a torture. The ability to hyper-focus on irrelevant subjects can be enjoyable and even profitable when focused correctly. However I find myself often unable to distinguish between obsessions that have potential to become beneficial and those that are a waste of everyone's time. Like sobering up from alcohol, it is usually only after the obsession passes that I am able to make a fair assessment of my thought's worth.
Yet, to a degree, I find myself able to simulate the benefits of medication in their absence. While on medication I learned a great deal about how a "normal" person views the world which, at the very least, has allowed me to sympathize with people's inability to understand my limitations when I am unable to cope. This understanding has also allowed me to untangle my obsessions from reality, allowing me to logically understand that my fear of social settings, for example, is an irrational feeling and that it's not people that I am afraid of. The fear is really my faulty brain inventing panic from within and then assuming an external cause. Even if I cannot control my fear I do not need to, I simply need to understand it's source.
Having seen the world through the two-dimensional eyes of OCD and medication suppressed OCD has given me a greater perspective with which I can understand a more three-dimensional world. Even with medication it was easy for me to fall back on the crutches of imagination when the real world seemed (or was) too overwhelming. Since childhood I had constructed a realm of daydreams in which I could hide, or imagine to fulfill what I could not fill from actual experiences. It was a great and not uncommon coping skill when I was four. Not so much at thirty-four. Our imaginations serve us well as a testing ground for ideas before they become action. But as with all things OCD it has been too easy to allow useful tactics to become self-defeating obsessions.
Coming off medication, I believe, caused a relapse of secluding myself in my forest of imagination and fantasy. But this time there was a difference. I'd been outside of the forest. I knew what the forest really looked like. This time, despite the many trees of racing and obsessive thoughts, I could see where in the forest I had lost myself. This was something I could not see where I outside the forest looking in, as I was with medication. The outside perspective of the forest was helpful for mapping it out, but it's impossible to navigate the forest from outside of it, anymore than we could successfully drive a car by observing it from an airplane. Only being in the forest, with the knowledge of what the outside of the forest looked like, could I then begin to navigate through it.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Monday, June 27, 2011
Picking My Poison
I've made a decision, sort of, to stop taking my medication. Only time will tell the wisdom of this choice, but I can tell you my reasons.
It started a couple of months ago when I was no longer able to get in contact with my psychiatrist, for reasons I still don't know. I had needed to reschedule an appointment due to my work schedule, and although I left several messages asking to reschedule I never received a response. Ever. Not to this day. I still have no idea what happened.
I told my primary doctor and he was kind enough to write me a refill, but of course he wasn't going to permanently fill the script, nor would I expect him to. He gave me a list of other doctors I could contact. Unfortunately they were either not taking patients at the time or worked in clinics and only dealt with emergency cases, they had no permanent patients. At this point I was already out of meds and was feeling the effects; the anxiety, the panic, rushing thoughts, mornings throwing up.
Work was getting stressful too, and by chance I confided in a peer of mine what was going since we were working closely together and I was really tired of trying to hide anything anymore. I gave him the cliff notes version, after which he shrugged and said, "Just be OCD, man." I laughed at the time and told him he didn't understand how difficult it could be, to which he shrugged and said, "Whatever, man. Just be who you are."
The more I thought on it the more I thought he might be right. There was a time when I don't think I could have survived much without the medication, but I've learned a lot since then. I grew up with OCD without even knowing what it was. It was miserable, but I survived. Now at least I know why I am the way I am. Plus, I began to feel really irritated about being the only one who seemed to care about whether or not I was getting my medication (unless I was irritating someone with my OCD, then they cared suddenly). So yeah. Whatever, man.
All I can really say so far about not being on medication for about four months now, the first time without meds in probably nine years, is it's six of one and a half dozen of the other. It's harder. Kind of. I guess. What I mean is both meds and no meds come with their own set of obstacles to deal with. The anxiety is worse, the OCD is worse, but without the meds it's forcing me to come to grips with it as well. With the meds I was more relaxed, sort of, but there was also a fear when I wasn't anxious that the anxiety would come back. That (as it did happen eventually) I would run into a problem with filling my prescription. With the meds there was this false hope that I would no longer be OCD, instead of just accepting it. So was I really less anxious?
I can say the same with my thought process, as well. With the meds I can think more clearly, but much slower. Without the meds the thoughts race, but I can also process multiple subjects at once.
So I don't think there's a right answer. I don't know if I'll go back on meds or not. Don't really care at this point. To some degree I feel good I'm getting to know myself again, even if it feels like a horror show at times. I know there was a time I needed meds. I know there was a time they were therapeutic. I know I never would have learned to deal with OCD and understand why people without it can't understand it without having taken meds. But maybe that's as far as they could take me. Maybe meds were a nice vacation for me to see how the other half lives. Maybe it's time to get back to who I am. Maybe it's time to face the fear, face the anxiety, and just deal with life as a fact.
Maybe it's time to stop hiding.
It started a couple of months ago when I was no longer able to get in contact with my psychiatrist, for reasons I still don't know. I had needed to reschedule an appointment due to my work schedule, and although I left several messages asking to reschedule I never received a response. Ever. Not to this day. I still have no idea what happened.
I told my primary doctor and he was kind enough to write me a refill, but of course he wasn't going to permanently fill the script, nor would I expect him to. He gave me a list of other doctors I could contact. Unfortunately they were either not taking patients at the time or worked in clinics and only dealt with emergency cases, they had no permanent patients. At this point I was already out of meds and was feeling the effects; the anxiety, the panic, rushing thoughts, mornings throwing up.
Work was getting stressful too, and by chance I confided in a peer of mine what was going since we were working closely together and I was really tired of trying to hide anything anymore. I gave him the cliff notes version, after which he shrugged and said, "Just be OCD, man." I laughed at the time and told him he didn't understand how difficult it could be, to which he shrugged and said, "Whatever, man. Just be who you are."
The more I thought on it the more I thought he might be right. There was a time when I don't think I could have survived much without the medication, but I've learned a lot since then. I grew up with OCD without even knowing what it was. It was miserable, but I survived. Now at least I know why I am the way I am. Plus, I began to feel really irritated about being the only one who seemed to care about whether or not I was getting my medication (unless I was irritating someone with my OCD, then they cared suddenly). So yeah. Whatever, man.
All I can really say so far about not being on medication for about four months now, the first time without meds in probably nine years, is it's six of one and a half dozen of the other. It's harder. Kind of. I guess. What I mean is both meds and no meds come with their own set of obstacles to deal with. The anxiety is worse, the OCD is worse, but without the meds it's forcing me to come to grips with it as well. With the meds I was more relaxed, sort of, but there was also a fear when I wasn't anxious that the anxiety would come back. That (as it did happen eventually) I would run into a problem with filling my prescription. With the meds there was this false hope that I would no longer be OCD, instead of just accepting it. So was I really less anxious?
I can say the same with my thought process, as well. With the meds I can think more clearly, but much slower. Without the meds the thoughts race, but I can also process multiple subjects at once.
So I don't think there's a right answer. I don't know if I'll go back on meds or not. Don't really care at this point. To some degree I feel good I'm getting to know myself again, even if it feels like a horror show at times. I know there was a time I needed meds. I know there was a time they were therapeutic. I know I never would have learned to deal with OCD and understand why people without it can't understand it without having taken meds. But maybe that's as far as they could take me. Maybe meds were a nice vacation for me to see how the other half lives. Maybe it's time to get back to who I am. Maybe it's time to face the fear, face the anxiety, and just deal with life as a fact.
Maybe it's time to stop hiding.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Prozac Nation
Healthcare stinks. I know this isn't news to anybody. But it stinks. I've been on again off again with my meds over the last several months, because sometimes I can afford them, sometimes I can't. I know it's not good to start and stop the meds, but I don't really see any other choice.
I just started up again the other day. I know that starting on the meds after being without is going to make me feel loopy, dizzy, disoriented. It's a weird feeling. But a relief. I know the disoriented feeling will pass and then I'll feel better.
I just started up again the other day. I know that starting on the meds after being without is going to make me feel loopy, dizzy, disoriented. It's a weird feeling. But a relief. I know the disoriented feeling will pass and then I'll feel better.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Lost
I've hit times I really don't know how to explain, or orient myself to. I feel like every single thing in my life has changed over the last four month, a feeling that I've had before and that is, of course, not true to reality. But so much has changed it's been hard for me to keep track of where I am. I'm still struggling to get my feet under me at work, though I've been in the new position for four months now. I feel like everything I do to make things better only makes things worse. It's very frustrating.
Frustration I'm used to. It's my response to frustration I no longer understand. In general I think I'm doing better with it, people don't tell me I'm cynical anymore, they usually tell me I'm positive, or they're surprised I'm still smiling with everything that's been on my plate. But I feel that I'm, to some degree, only stifling my frustrations, or choosing to ignore them. I refuse to let them drag me down into depression, but am I running up a huge frustration debt because I'm still not sure what to do with them?
I also feel that, although I'm busy most of the time doing something, I don't have much interest in anything anymore either. Nothing seems to inspire me anymore. It doesn't really feel like a depression, it's not an empty feeling, more one of apathy. I don't feel cynical towards anything, I just feel like I don't really care. Like all I really want is quiet.
I was off of my meds for about a month and survived. No trips to the hospital. No panic attacks. No one even asked if I was off my meds. I guess that's kind of a good thing, although I noticed I was off of them and I didn't like it so much. Don't like being on meds, don't like not being on them. What can you do?
Frustration I'm used to. It's my response to frustration I no longer understand. In general I think I'm doing better with it, people don't tell me I'm cynical anymore, they usually tell me I'm positive, or they're surprised I'm still smiling with everything that's been on my plate. But I feel that I'm, to some degree, only stifling my frustrations, or choosing to ignore them. I refuse to let them drag me down into depression, but am I running up a huge frustration debt because I'm still not sure what to do with them?
I also feel that, although I'm busy most of the time doing something, I don't have much interest in anything anymore either. Nothing seems to inspire me anymore. It doesn't really feel like a depression, it's not an empty feeling, more one of apathy. I don't feel cynical towards anything, I just feel like I don't really care. Like all I really want is quiet.
I was off of my meds for about a month and survived. No trips to the hospital. No panic attacks. No one even asked if I was off my meds. I guess that's kind of a good thing, although I noticed I was off of them and I didn't like it so much. Don't like being on meds, don't like not being on them. What can you do?
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Managing Well
I've started a new job as a group home manager and have had many a stressful situation to deal with. I can't say that it has been easy, nor can I say that my OCD has been completely tame, but to be honest I've been surprised at how well I've been able to manage. And manage is the word. It's been something every single day, and anxieties upon anxiety. It has certainly taken it's toll on me, and I had to take a nap yesterday because my head was spinning with so many thoughts and worries. But at no point have I really regretted taking the position.
Sometimes, though, being able to deal with more has not been a good thing. I've at times over-estimated what I can do now, taken on too much, and bitten off more than I can chew. I have a new set of limitations to adapt to and accept. But in the end it's good to have limitations, it keeps us humble.
Sometimes, though, being able to deal with more has not been a good thing. I've at times over-estimated what I can do now, taken on too much, and bitten off more than I can chew. I have a new set of limitations to adapt to and accept. But in the end it's good to have limitations, it keeps us humble.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Out of the Bubble
It's been good and bad of late, and I'm realizing that sometimes when things get better they get harder to deal with. Every day I feel like I'm getting out of myself a little more and I see the world outside of my own head a little better. While it's a great thing to be happening, to finally be able to understand what was happening to me for almost three decades without my knowing why, it can be a little depressing, too. It's only when I feel better that I realize how bad I felt before.
Sometimes I feel more comfortable with my old problems. I don't want them, but I am familiar with them. I realize I actually feel more uncomfortable when I'm successful, like I don't know what to do with myself. I feel a little lost. It's nice to be liberated from my anxieties but it's also disconcerting to not have them, I realize a little fear in life is good because it keeps me in check. Too much is debilitating, too little is dangerous.
I have a lot to reevaluate. I never thought my life through this far. I'm faced with opportunities I always wanted and worked for but never really thought I would get. I'm successful at work. It's a weird feeling. My kids love me, even when I'm disciplining them. It's a good thing, of course, but overwhelming. And when I see my life coming together I turn around and see the wreck of a life I leave behind me.
I feel like I'm flexing a muscle that's been held in one position for too long. It's feels good to move it but is soooooo painful. A good pain. The world outside my bubble is harsher, but real. It's more painful, but more rewarding. My bubble of self-delusion was comfortable but asphyxiating. It's good to be out, but I'm struggling to find my bearings.
Sometimes I feel more comfortable with my old problems. I don't want them, but I am familiar with them. I realize I actually feel more uncomfortable when I'm successful, like I don't know what to do with myself. I feel a little lost. It's nice to be liberated from my anxieties but it's also disconcerting to not have them, I realize a little fear in life is good because it keeps me in check. Too much is debilitating, too little is dangerous.
I have a lot to reevaluate. I never thought my life through this far. I'm faced with opportunities I always wanted and worked for but never really thought I would get. I'm successful at work. It's a weird feeling. My kids love me, even when I'm disciplining them. It's a good thing, of course, but overwhelming. And when I see my life coming together I turn around and see the wreck of a life I leave behind me.
I feel like I'm flexing a muscle that's been held in one position for too long. It's feels good to move it but is soooooo painful. A good pain. The world outside my bubble is harsher, but real. It's more painful, but more rewarding. My bubble of self-delusion was comfortable but asphyxiating. It's good to be out, but I'm struggling to find my bearings.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Conquering Fear
"He that finds his soul will lose it, and he that loses his soul for my sake will find it." - Matthew 10: 39
It astonishes me now to look back and see how much of my life has been dominated by fear. A vast majority of the difficulties I have faced in life I now realize were the result of nothing more than fear. I can now see everything from procrastinating to being being shy, from avoiding people to being hostile towards them, can be accounted for by fear.
Knowing the insidious ways fear has manipulated my life has helped me to deal with it when it comes now. I don't know that I experience any less anxiety now (some less due to medication, I think), but it really doesn't matter because allowing the fear to exist without paying it much attention has worked far better than trying to fight it, or give in to it.
Letting go of fear brings the benefit of letting go of control as well. Trying to control everything is exhausting. I had never known the joy of simply accepting what is and forgetting what I want it to be.
It astonishes me now to look back and see how much of my life has been dominated by fear. A vast majority of the difficulties I have faced in life I now realize were the result of nothing more than fear. I can now see everything from procrastinating to being being shy, from avoiding people to being hostile towards them, can be accounted for by fear.
Knowing the insidious ways fear has manipulated my life has helped me to deal with it when it comes now. I don't know that I experience any less anxiety now (some less due to medication, I think), but it really doesn't matter because allowing the fear to exist without paying it much attention has worked far better than trying to fight it, or give in to it.
Letting go of fear brings the benefit of letting go of control as well. Trying to control everything is exhausting. I had never known the joy of simply accepting what is and forgetting what I want it to be.
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