I was at UCLA Monday for more bipolar testing, and I told Chelsea about how suicidal I was feeling over New Years. She called my therapist Jane, and Jane called me into the clinic to have a meeting with her and my psyc doc. They say the same thing~~u have to make changes in ur life and stick to the meds...I say, well, I've been on everything and none of it helps me. What about Wellbutrin, the doc says~~I say I've been on it for years and years, and it gives me vivid nightmares. Ok, you don't wanna be on Zoloft anymore because of the sexual side effects, and Cymbalta dries you out. If you are not willing to stay on the meds, how are you going to feel any better? Me: But I did try those damn drugs! I was on Zoloft for years and Cymbalta I tried for about a year, maybe less. It dries me out until it's unbearable. Doc: So maybe you have to have a trade off? Me: Why? They don't help me! I've taken them every day, and I still feel like shit. I still feel depressed and un motivated! Around in circles we went. I eventually consented to go back on Lexapro.
My doc says, "Sandra, Jane and I like you~~we don't want you to kill yourself. We want to help you." I tell him, "I like you guys too! But I can't go on feeling like this~~it's excruitating!" Hell, I forgot how to spell. Anyway, he basically lectures me again for the 40th time that I have to commit myself to changing my life~~start going out and stop isolating myself. I say, "Don't you think I say that to myself every day?? I ask myself, What the hell is wrong with you, Sandi? That you can't even get showered and walk outside your apt.? Even go to the lobby to the mailbox? " He says," Well you enjoy being miserable and then complaining about it." I say, " No I don't enjoy being miserable! I want to get well and be normal, and I'm a fucking alien!"
I told him when I was on UCLA campus the other day, I was like an alien observer, watching hordes of people scurrying this way and that. They looked miserable too. But they had some sort of purpose. I have no purpose in life. I just exist. Anyway, we spoke a long while, and it all comes down to the fact that I hate myself. He says I must work with Jane to find out why I hate myself so much. They both know how I self sabotage to drive men away. How I think I'm a big loser. I want to feel better about myself, but aging is getting me down so much. Like I have missed the boat on happiness, and it's too late. I made an effort to put some make up on and am about to leave to go back to UCLA, but instead of thinking I look nice, I see all the damned wrinkles my skin is turning out. I can't deal with losing my looks. It truly sux. That was my only armor I had, and it is crumbling away. I feel like I'm losing my identity, and since I have shitty self esteem anyway, I find that it is getting even lower still. I've been hiding myself from the world over 10 yrs now, and I just can't deal with life anymore. I don't matter. I am nothing.