A Light At the End of the Tunnel

Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could accurately describe the ridiculousness that has been this week. An intense roller coaster of good and bad news filling my skull with an intensity that made me think it might explode. It was the sort of week where the alternating periods of important information and total isolation left my thoughts spinning through an odd emotional centrifuge.

Monday and Tuesday brought on a near mental breakdown. Seeing my therapist at the end of Tuesday was what really saved me on that one, and I spent Wednesday with my sister feeling slightly less agitated.

By Thursday my mood had already dipped down and then back up before I realized it has almost been a month since I applied for the Latuda patient assistance program.

In a brief moment of clarity I called their hotline to check on my application. It turns out I have been accepted and the medication should reach my doctor by Monday.

Suddenly, I remembered that this is what has really shlepped me through this month of exaggerated mood swings with a particularly grim outlook. This new, free medication sitting in a truck somewhere driving toward Seattle has the potential to change things. I realize my track record with medications isn’t a particularly hopeful one (we’re at 14-0 for helpfulness here) but somehow, despite crotchety depression and erratic irritability, I am hopeful again.

2 responses to “A Light At the End of the Tunnel

  1. I’m glad that you can find it in yourself to be hopeful during all of this. Positivity goes a very long way!

  2. Roschelle McGowan

    OMG I gained 50 pounds on Zyprexa which was the ONLY thing I’ve taken in years that helped me sleep (yes I’m bipolar as hell). So I’ve been on Latuda for two weeks. I’ve never cycled so fast in my life. I think my judgement is gone like I can’t decide on whether to eat some cantaloupe or an apple so I just don’t eat anything then I’ll eat both. I’m crying one minute, thinking about how BADLY I want to be dead (but promised my parents and my daughters a long time ago that I would not take my own life). I obsess about being dead. OBSESS ABOUT IT.

    I won’t go to the door, I won’t answer my phone, this paranoia is all a new thing for me. Crying, crawling over my bed, crying, punching pillows, just then feeling this overwhelming unbearable sadness. Afraid to go anywhere. Unreasonable fears. (The fears are kind of new I suppose).

    I’m constantly creating new physical symptoms like stomach cancer now and lung cancer. The reason I’ve gained all this weight is definitely because of the stomach cancer. This is NOT a made up thing but I do have horrific pain syndrome especially in my back and living with chronic pain is a definite trigger for depression.

    But yeah daily I make up new personal illness. Now I’m making up illness for my dog (which most are true but I’m adding to the pile). I constantly spend hour after hour building disasters in my mind. Sleep is just completely foreign. I got a referral to a pulmonary doc and I went to see him but after a whole month he didn’t call me back about a prescription, all true, so I didn’t go back to see him, true. He referred me to a sleep study, true. I told them I wasn’t seeing him anymore so have to go get new referral for sleep study, all true.

    Sleep, what a concept.

    Maybe you call tell I’m cycling out of my mind right now and all over the place. See shrink next week. SIGHS


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