Managing Life with Migraines

Today was another doctor's appointment for me, in yet what has become a long, and sometimes desperate search for relief from the chronic migraines in which I suffer.

This time I went in 90% with my mind made up that I was finished with preventative meds. I wanted to remain steadfast in this stance, so I would not be persuaded in the moment, only to regret my decision on the way home as I often do. Still, I left the door cracked open so I could listen to reason, with a healthy mind frame of skepticism. I wanted to express that the current preventative med that I am taking is not helping, and the side effects were outweighing the benefits at this point, namely weight gain (which is a very touchy subject for me to begin with) and stomach pains.

And, so I did. I explained how I feel like I can't separate the side effects from my illness(s) at this point. There's no way to differentiate what is where, and I'm tired of putting my body on this roller coaster with only a small amount of relief. I asked for a pain reliever, and a break from everything else related to migraines. Long term, this may not be a good option. I'm aware of this. I just feel it is for where I am now. I can always take the doctor up on the offer for another med, or a referral to a neurologist later on.

I'm sure that there are loads of people that are in the same situation as I find myself in right now, chronically ill, and feeling like they're out of options for relief, or even a shot at living a life that they once knew. It's hard to accept

Can We Stop Vilifying Antidepressants?

The doctor entered the room, and asked how I was. "Not well," I responded dryly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here, right?" She laughed as if she hadn't heard it before, or maybe she just wasn't expecting it from me. I had no energy for pleasantries, and small talk. My words were dry, and blunt. Any fears I may have held about what others might think of me were simply gone. It had been swept away in a torrent of blackness that had enveloped my entire being. It was such an odd feeling to be absent from anxiety, as it was replaced with a depth of depression that reached further down than I knew existed. In that office, that day I sat there with the last bit of strength I could muster, and admitted that I needed help.

What had brought me to that point? Surely it was not an overnight thing? It couldn't have been, and it wasn't. I have been depressed on, and off for the last 23 years. Quite a lot more on than off, I should say. I'd been told by numerous doctors, and psychiatrists that I had depression. When I was evaluated a few years ago the clinician tacked on dysthymic disorder to Asperger's. I balked. She didn't know what she was talking about. I was not chronically in a state of melancholy, I thought. Except I was, and I couldn't face it.

But, why couldn't I face it? What was it that made it so difficult?

Feeling Sunny Again #autism #depression

I thought that I might do a little update about how things are going since some of my recent posts about Beans' struggles ( HERE and HERE) things have improved, as well as other issues I've spoken about here, and on my FB page.

I am happy to report that with a med change Beans is doing very well. He is sleeping through the night, and not agitated all day like he was. It was a scary transition from okay to not okay, and back to okay again. I know that at times this is part of what living with autism is like. I wish that there was more support, and resources for when these times happen for us, and families like us, but I feel incredibly lucky to be back to a peaceful calm period.

I also am happy to tell you all that my recent trial of antidepressants has been wildly successful. I really regret waiting as long as I did to try it. I feel so much better, and am able to enjoy life again. It's like night, and day, and it's not even been a whole entire month since I started them. I think Spring coming around the corner is also helpful, but even on our recent gloomy snow days I have been in a good mood.

I don't think I mentioned it much on my page, but Bubby had also been struggling with a lot of tears, and oversensitivity the last few months.

Miss Despondent Gets a New Attitude

When I penned the last entry I noticed something that I definitely would not have if I had not been blogging. I was talking about how depression had shaped my current thinking, and whatnot, and I relayed it to a past post about depression, Kinda hard for regular readers to recall what recent entry has not been about depression, right? Anyway, I went to link it up, and noticed something as I was copying the link location. That entry was from a couple months ago. Then, I decided to look at the list of all of my blog entries, and realized that the first one that I begin to discuss this current bout of depression was in October. October?! I did a quick count on my fingers. That was four months ago! Has it been that long? Surely I have not been in this state for four months. I couldn't have been. Wouldn't I have known?

I had no way around the facts that were laying out there in black, and white. I have been slipping into a very serious depression, and I was not fully aware of it.

I thought, how could this be? My only answers were that it was comparable to a frog in a pot of water that is slowly heated until he's done. I didn't notice it, because it was a gradual decline into discomfort. Every now, and then the water might cool off, and then I'd notice it when the temperature sharply rose again, but for the most part it was a game of complacency. I would know I was down, but I got so used to feeling that way that it became my new norm, so when the depression pulled me even deeper the slight change was only a tinge of noticeable difference in mood.

At first I thought that I really shouldn't write yet another blog entry about depression. Won't my readers get tired of reading about my woes? Maybe. I don't really know. What I do know is that I write what I feel, and right now my truth is this horrid black cloud hanging over my head. I'd never bring it up in real time conversation, and you'd never know I was so far down if you were talking to me. The thing is, on my bad days no one talks to me, because I make sure they don't. I cancel appointments, and don't answer the phone. I sleep a lot, and watch tv. (Two things I don't do much of.)  It's not like it's something I really want to bring up in everyday conversation.

If this were one of my bad days I wouldn't be writing this entry at all. I'd not have the thought process to do so, nor would I feel that I had anything of value to share with anyone anyway. I simply wouldn't bother. If I did it would be full of dark humor, and swear words. You might think if someone is depressed they lose their humor. That's when some of us get ours really warmed up. The more down I get the more twisted, and sailor-ish my thoughts get. Think Lewis Black, or Anthony Jesselnick. Not only are my thoughts crude, and dark, but that little part of my brain that says "No. Don't say that." isn't there. It goes away leaving me no filter, at all. I simply don't care enough to care. I don't even consider if I sound offensive to anyone. That would require too much thinking, and anxiety. Did I mention my anxiety goes almost all the way away when I am feeling really down? Yes. I no longer care about my weight, or if I might be late, or if I'm upsetting people. I really have zero f*cks to give about pretty much anything related to myself.

It's not that I feel rock bottom low all the time anymore. I have days where it isn't so bad. Most days are a big mixed bag, though. Mornings have been by far the worst. This is new to me. I have had other depressions before, and all of them caused my mood to dip in the evenings. All my energy was spent by then, and I would fall into sadness. This time, however, my mood fares much, much worse earlier in the day rather than later. Most days I am hit with a wall of sadness, and despair as soon as I open my eyes. Literally, the first moment of consciousness is one that reminds me I am still here, and I am still feeling the same. It's almost as if I'm disappointed that I even woke up most days. By late afternoon my mood has usually improved to a very solid coping stage. I am able to get moving, and get stuff done.

Except I don't get it all done.