Went to my psychiatrist today. (Dr. R.) I cried a little in the waiting room thinking of describing how I’ve been feeling since I saw him last. I didn’t cry in front of him, though. Good thing? Bad thing? Maybe it would have been a better indicator of what it’s been like. Still, I suppose it’s a good thing that he can be a calming presence. I was able to feel like it there was something he could do. He changed one of my medications and gently suggested I also see my GP to check on my hormones. (Trying not to put pressure on me to see the GP, because he was aware that I was already avoiding it.)
During my time in support groups, I’ve heard of some bad experiences with doctors in the mental health field and I think I’ve been pretty lucky in that respect. Some people have not been able to trust their doctor, some have felt judged by their doctor, and others have been downright insulted. Some doctors have washed their hands of a patient, which is awful. I’ve never had to go through that. My one friction with a doctor happened during one of my hospital visits. (Dr. S.) He seemed mostly clueless as to what to do, yet oddly focused on whether I was eating my vegetables. As though I would be happier if I just ate more greens. (I was eating them… hospital meals include them!)
I’m experiencing a lot of back and forth lately. I get the internal narrator instinct sometimes… and that’s great, because it’s writing and expression and a sign of motivation and various good things. Then the moment withers and I’m doubting the validity of my own voice and there’s the pessimism that settles on my shoulders. Suddenly I’m sapped of my energy, both emotional and physical. This is a tough thing to shake. The onset of fatigue is powerful and stubborn as hell. Anything I want takes a backseat. Like now. Right this frigging moment. It’s barely 9pm and I’m yawning over the keyboard, entertaining ideas of getting into bed. I haven’t had a long day, I’ve had my fair share of caffeine and I’ve slept plenty the last few nights. Not enough. Not good enough. My head still wants to put the brakes on.
I’m losing tonight. I can’t just agonize the last few hours of my evening away, staying awake but staying bitterly adrift. I choose to lose against fatigue. I think you could almost call it relaxing, but it’s not what I’d rather be doing… so is it really? Anyway, switching off the world and switching on some music.
Oh yeah, and hoping to start seeing a difference over the next little bit, with the med change.