Current Mood: exhausted
Current Music: “Survivor” by 浜崎あゆみ
It feels so weird and yet so right to be blogging in a diary/journal format again. I held back from posting yesterday, still in the habit of posting snippets on Facebook instead. I’d really like to move away from that some, I think. Social media feels so fake and contrite these days. I’ll obviously still use it, posting Instagram photos and sharing memes and infographics; it’s what I do. But I’m glad to have a little extra space to sort my thoughts and type them out into the abyss, whether anyone else reads much of it or not.
I’m struggling a bit today. Whatever mysterious chronic malady plagues me is seriously affecting my day-to-day ability to function, some days worse than others. Today is one of the worse days. I woke up and had to stay in bed for about an hour, which has become pretty normal, but today my limbs felt especially achy and heavy. My head felt even foggier and groggier than typical; I ended up falling back asleep for a bit which is unusual for me. I’m finally able to get up and move around now, ignoring the constant pain in my arms, legs, hands, feet, hips, and back…basically my entire body. The brain fog is killing me, though. I made it through some reading with the kiddos, enough that they could move on to either playing or their independent work, depending on the kid. I have to rally at some point to make it through my own homework, as I have an assignment due this evening.
It’s really discouraging to know my options for getting medical help may be next to nothing. Right now, they just want me to take an SSRI (fluoxetine/Prozac) and wait for the referral to go through to see a mental health counselor on base. It’s pretty clear to me that they think my illness stems from anxiety and depression, rather than the other way around. Ironically, before my health started to degrade, I was in the best place mental health-wise that I’ve ever been in in my life – since I became a teenager, at the very least. I was feeling so sure of myself and ready to actually live instead of constantly worrying about society’s expectations or continuing to make myself small to please others. It was amazing. The physical problems took me by surprise and began to worsen exponentially about 6 months ago; I rarely have days where I feel remotely decent now. I’m always run down, in pain, and having trouble processing information that once came to me as easily as breathing. It’s infuriating that I’m being brushed off by the medical staff here, and it’s terrifying to feel like there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop the decline in my mental and physical abilities. We are not scheduled to move again for another year and a half, at least. I don’t know how I’m going to make it that long.
I’m afraid to even message my doctors and confess that I haven’t been taking the meds. (I insisted I wanted to be seeing a therapist first, but somehow they took that to mean I was cool with meds as long as I did eventually also see a counselor. By the end of that appointment, I was so beaten down and upset I couldn’t fight for myself anymore. I just nodded, smiled, and took the prescription home.) There are so many tests that haven’t been run that would make sense to try with my symptoms, but every time I go in suggesting something I feel like it just feeds their theories that I’m a hypochondriac. It’s a very trapped feeling to not be able to take control of my own health because doing so immediately makes doctors assume I am not actually in control of my faculties. This system is so horribly flawed, don’t even get me started. I’ve lost faith that I’ll ever get help, especially out here, and I’m worried about what that could mean. Suffering for at least the next couple of years. Worsening symptoms to the point of permanent damage. Or worse. I really just don’t know what to do, and it feels like there is absolutely nothing I can do. That’s where the anxiety is coming from; that’s why I’m getting depressed. Because they won’t actually help me. They can’t be bothered.