26 September 2008
Pitching a fit
There are pros and cons to the meds. Pros - - - you don't feel worthless anymore, you feel like there is a possibility that things might maybe get better, you're able to function a little better. One of the things that bothers me about them can't really be called a con, but it does bother me.
I can't believe that I'm going to kvetch about this.
The meds change your outlook, and not a little, either. I don't get angry, or super-upset, about much of anything at all. As if there's a refrain of REM's Shiny Happy People running through my head. I see others get upset about something, or lose their tempers, and most of the time, it is difficult for me to understand why they're all in a tizzy. Is anyone going to die over whatever the problem is? Are we standing on the precipice of complete disaster? No? Well, then, geez, dude, chill.
How do I know that these reactions are the meds? Hahahahahaha. *snerk* Hoooo! Wait, wait, lemme catch my breath.....bwahahahahaa! Ask anyone who went to elementary/high school with me about my rage. I spent most of my teen years being pissed at the world in general, and even into my 20s, I still had the occasional anger issue. I never physically hurt anyone; but I can be bru-tal with what comes out of my mouth. Words that can wound badly, I'm good at that when I've got some rage going.
I'm also a little mystified when someone gets angry at me. Especially when I've done something that was not planned with an eye to piss them off. Sure, sure, I snark a good deal, say sarcastic and biting things, which I then have to apologize for when what I thought was smart and funny was instead hurtful, or worse, unfunny. But I don't go out of my way to make someone angry, it just isn't in my agenda. I've got too much else to do, I haven't the time to construct elaborate plots to offend someone in my daily circle.
I think that the depression plays a part in this, too; that feeling which tells you you're worthless is the same little demon whispering in your ear who tells you that nothing really matters. Why bother? Its all pointless. So when someone gets mad at you, you automatically think that you deserve it, and somehow, if you were a better person than this worthless, empty shell, they wouldn't be angry with you. (Because that makes perfect sense, no? There's a reason that they call it mental illness, people.)
Outwardly, that is easy to conceal; you don't show that you're hurting, there's that brave, tough-girl facade that I talk about often, which fools the world into thinking that you're an independent little cuss. Inwardly, however, you're agreeing with every word as someone calls your intellect or whatever into question, reads you the riot act.
When the meds first started working for me, but before they were at the correct dosage, I wasn't feeling much of anything at all. I didn't feel like I had this pit of despair sloshing around inside, but I also couldn't get excited about something, didn't feel much joy. I had thought that feeling nothing would be preferable to feeling so horrible, but then I wasn't so sure. Feeling nothing was sort of a relief. But only for a little while, because that "nothing" faded back into the suffocating misery.
With the proper dosage, I regained the ability to be happy and excited about things, and also finally had the correct perspective on the world. Losing your keys is not a reason to have a meltdown.
But has it gone too far in the other direction? That I don't think anything is a big deal unless it is a catastrophe?
Being a grownup? Not the constant party I expected. :-)