I didn’t update yesterday, but I also wasn’t in the hospital. I actually felt like crap after hardly sleeping the night before. I don’t know what was going on in the apartment below us, but it was chaos at 2:30 in the morning. This combined with my unmedicated insomnia and vulnerable stomach left me puking at 4 AM. It was not ideal.
I awoke again at six to go to my first PNP (psychiatric nurse practitioner) appointment. I wrote last week about what it was like to make the call and start therapy, and this is a step in the process. It took about an hour, but it was a great hour, because for the first time in a long time I was heard. I was listened to and believed and understood. It was akin to the first medical professional that said to me “Oh I know what trichotillomania is!” It was a great feeling.
She started me on the path to a therapy I have been advocating for. She listened to why I needed the meds I am on. She did everything right and for the first time I had a prescriber I wasn’t a little disgusted by.
Afterwards I got a free coffee at Tim Hortons, because it’s Roll Up the Rim season, and then I headed home. I had every intention of updating my blog. And then I got sleepy. Did I sleep? No, I sat on the couch and watched Arrested Development and ate cold pizza. I felt some depression creep in as I thought about all the costs of my medical treatment. I considered writing about that, as I also did before I sat down just now, but it’s such a shitshow I can’t even focus on it. I couldn’t really focus on anything.
My mind flashed back to the little questionnaires they give you at therapy to determine if you are depressed. I realized I was checking boxes all over the place. One change my PNP made was an increase in my depression med. I noticed that it had been on the rise since Christmas, and I am 100% positive it has to do with my health insurance. Again, I should be writing about THAT. As pro-ACA as I have been, this thing is killing me financially. Why can’t we just get what Canada’s got? But I digress…
Depression has been a difficult adversary, far worse than anxiety or OCD have managed to plauge me. Depression is my oldest foe, always there to throw a wrench into my plans, and I suppose that’s what happened yesterday. I was feeling high and happy after my appointment, but it faded away to another bout of sadness and stress, as it is wont to do.
As I lay in bed last night I thought about my cup of coffee. It was a nice little treat, and I tried to hold onto that feeling of both winning and receiving my free coffee as a way to appreciate the little things. I have always found adages like that to be vaguely corny, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t useful. Sometimes focusing on something else helps you get your mind off what’s really bothering you, and I would rather fall asleep thinking about a free cup of coffee than a pile of medical bills.
This morning I didn’t want to blog, either. This is forced. This is me making myself type because I will not let my depression take a second day, which is silly when you think about it. My depression is obviously waning today or I would not be sitting here, because when it’s really bad I can’t “make” myself do anything. Today though, I make myself type. I make myself vacuum. I make myself shower. I make myself go on, because I can. It’s all I can do some days, and it’s enough.