Just woke up. Can't stop crying. 1 more day of work and I can relax for at least a day. I can't do this anymore. After work today I went to my doctors office/clinic because I can't take it anymore. Saw a new doctor who's first few words were “you can take celexa. It's the same as lexapro”. They're not the same. I said that. He asks “so you are telling me, a doctor that I am wrong?”. “yes” I say calmly but the damage to his ego was already done. He's already pissed at me, so I decide to leave. He's already lied to me. If lexapro or celexa were the same they would not go by two different names. One is not a genetic of the other. Granted they are similar, but the same…no.
Four months ago I went to my doctors saying shit's gonna hit the fan soon. I recognized what was happening, sought help at a facility for mental illness and have yet to have anyone on my side. I am not allowed to question or disagree anything I am told. I have no say in my recovery-i just have to shut up and go along with whatever they say. And when I don't I am classified as resisting treatment and difficult.
So I went home feeling worse then when I went there, so I slept. If all I can do is wait then I’ll just sleep til I feel better. But I hate sleeping. I can't sleep anymore. I wake up once an hour in such a huge state of panic that half the time I am hysterically crying when I awake. This is how I start my day, everyday
1:35 am. Still crying. Talked to two friends tonight but i'm too anxious to listen. My best riend lives 10 hours away. She suggested calling my local Assembly Person. I feel like I need a lawyer present when I go to the psychiatrist.
When io first started having panic attacks in college I went to a psychiatrist. He prescribed me xanax and I kept feeling worse. I would go to the ER to get shots of Ativan. I told my doctor I was addicted and was unhappy about it. He said he'd prescribe me another xanax a day. I got furious and started calling him a drug dealer. He pressed his magic button, told some men in white suits I tried to hit him. They jumped me and brought me upstairs to the psych unit…based on a lie…a lie that everyone believed because of my label.
Worst part was it was on Halloween in 2000…3 days away from Election Day! So I broke out to vote. Luckily I was upstate NY and they're was very little security.
As ridiculous and geeky as this makes me sound the main point is is that because I allowed my doctor to close the door, nobody saw that I didn't hit him, thereby concluding that the doctor was telling the truth.
Have been lied to too many times. I have been sexual intercoursed in a bad way (f*cked)) too many times by these people and yet I do have something wrong with my brain so I do need drugs and I do attempt the therapy thing. I have been therapeutically accused of having self fulfilling prophecies by the same people that are always ranting about doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of insanity. And that's the definition of irony I suppose.
That “psychiatrist” upstate, as it turned out, was giving me more than the highest dosage recommended and because I weigh less then 400 lbs, a doctor down here reported him to the Dept of Health.
The best way to determine the future is the past and if the past 8 doctors lied to me is it wrong to expect that from the 9th? I feel like I need a lawyer to speak on my behalf and if I had known I was going to go I would have brought my camera. I decided to record my visits-don't have a recorder so my camera will do. I have to be clandestine because this is not allowed but it is the only way I will feel like I am not being lied to or treated unfairly…and if I am-it's recorded.
I cant think anymore….that's it