Don’t Let It Go

I went to the doctor and she agreed that I should have medication to help with the way I’ve been feeling.  Because I have Cystic Fibrosis I am on 20+ medications, one of them being a certain antibiotic that I am on every other month, (I’m on antibiotics 24/7, if not I will get fevers within two days), I can’t take any anti depression meds.  Apparently, that one drug doesn’t mix well with literally any of the anti depressants on the market.  Just my luck.  Of course, I can’t stop taking that antibiotic because it is one of the very few (two to be exact) that actually work for me.  I am screwed.  SO, of course, things aren’t any better and I have no idea what to do next.  Therapy I feel like isn’t working, but I’m still going regardless.  I’ve been going to the gym so much that I feel like my legs are going to fall off.  I read somewhere that going to the gym is supposed to help with getting happy.  If someone out there has an suggestions please comment.  Help a girl out.


Like the Weather

Tomorrow I go to a family doctor to talk about what kind of meds to get on.  I’m nervous and kind of scared honestly.  I’ve never had to be on any kind of medication for depression/anxiety before and I’m still on the fence about it.  The only thing that is making me do it is knowing it is best for me and the people around me.  I don’t want to keep feeling this way anymore.  Whatever medication they decide to put me on, I hope it works.  I’m afraid that it will do more damage than good.  I also don’t like the thought of myself going to a doctor I’ve never met and telling her everything, but I have to.

Lonely People

I’ve been off the IVs for a while and my PFTS (lung function) didn’t go up that much, I’m not where I should be.  I can tell though, I’m still coughing more than usual, but no fevers so I can’t complain.  In case you’re wondering I still haven’t gone to see a doctor about getting on meds.  I’m not sure why, it’ll probably help, but I don’t know I just don’t want to.  I have an appointment next week so we’ll see.  I probably will end up doing something because nothing else is helping.  I’m back at my childhood house watching my dads dog and it’s really hard being here.  The weather isn’t great and there’s nothing to do except to be alone with your thoughts.  If you’re like me, that’s scary.  It’s hard being here because my mom died in this house in the room next to where I am sitting.  Being here, especially alone, is a constant reminder of what is no longer.  It should be me and her going to the beach or spending way too much money while my step dad is off for work.  But it’s not.  It’s just me with my psychotic thoughts in a house with a lot of opportunities to act on those thoughts.   My birthday is in a few days, the big 2-1, and I hate that I feel this way.  I probably won’t go out, I just want to go back to my apartment and not have to deal with anybody.  The one thing I hate about coming back to my hometown is seeing everyone I know and the people here stress me out.  I can’t handle it.  Only a few more days and I’m out of here.  I hope.

My Own Worst Enemy

I’m still having those thoughts.  Shocking.  It’s not going to get better.  Apparently, it could be biological.  I have all the reasons in the world to feel this way; my CF, my mom is dead, school sucks, etc etc.  When I feel sad or have thoughts of ending it I don’t think of any of those things.  I could be walking around campus and the thoughts creep up on me.  Maybe it is biological, my genetics are fucked anyways so it wouldn’t surprise me.  My therapist suggested medication.  I don’t like that idea, but maybe it’s necessary.  On top of all of this, me and my relationship problems aren’t getting better.  I thought we were supposed to be a team, but it’s clear we’re not.  He wants to go back home every weekend and I don’t.  It stresses me out and I don’t need it.  He doesn’t even ask me if I want to go home he just says he’s going and asks if I’m coming with him or not.  Either way is a lose-lose situation for me.   I go home and stress myself out or I stay in my apartment alone.  Alone with my thoughts.  My thoughts that consist of taking a handful of pills or taking my car and wrecking it into a tree, praying that will do the trick.  I often daydreaming about jumping off a cliff or my funeral.  I feel insane.  Like I’m losing myself, my mind.  I don’t know what to do anymore, about anything.