“Here, let’s pray about it. Just think positive thoughts, now. You’ll be okay.”
I’m aghast that here it is 2016, and still some people think I can pull my self up by the bootstraps, out of depression. Really, people???? No one in their right mind would say that to an amputee!!! But, because my disability is invisible, it’s fair game????
I have spent a whole week, in such deep, dark, depression, that I’ve been suicidal. Crying, aching for someone to just hold me, and cry with me. Whisper “I’m here. I love you. I’m so sorry you’re hurting.”
But no. Instead I got that first line up there. Almost feels like I’m being told it’s my fault. It’s NOT my fault!! Yes, it’s all in my head- brain, and thyroid, which is in my neck. But the blood chemistry being off, and missing vital chemicals is NOT my fault!!
When I figured out Thursday afternoon, what was wrong, I wanted to punch my doctor. I have hypothyroidism. Which means, my thyroid is sluggish, and doesn’t make enough thyroid hormone. I’ve had this condition for 26 years, ever since I was pregnant with DD2. My thyroid, for unknown reasons, just decided to quit functioning correctly. So, I have been fighting this battle a LONG, LONG time. This combined with bi-polar makes my life extremely difficult. So many variables, and they have to be all lined up exactly, in order for me to function optimally. My levels have been fluctuating, and my Dr. kept lowering my dose. This last time, she lowered it to HALF of my dose from last year. I BEGGED her not to do it. “I’m doing okay. Please don’t lower it.” Nope, she did it, cuz my “Bloodwork” showed my levels were wrong. Well, to her, it’s numbers on a report, to ME, it’s my life!! And so, because she didn’t listen to me, I spent a week in hell. Life is not even worth living, if you’re constantly in hell, and looking for a way out, and all fire exits are blocked.
(This is a pretty good visual. Even though it doesn’t completely express the depths of despair.)
L0026686 A woman diagnosed as suffering from melancholia. Colour lith Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images firstname.lastname@example.org http://wellcomeimages.org A woman diagnosed as suffering from melancholia. Colour lithograph, 1892, after J. Williamson, 1890. 1890-1892 By: J. Williamsonafter: Byrom BramwellPublished:  Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
So, Friday morning, I took my old 200 mcg dose. And Sat. and Sun. No improvement yet. But, I will keep on taking the 200, till I feel myself at least at ground level, instead of a thousand feet down in a hole.
Physical recovery takes a long time. And when your Doctor doesn’t listen, and sabotages you, it takes even longer. I don’t mean that I think she did it on purpose to hurt me. I know she is doing her best to help me. But, I’m not just numbers on a paper. I’m me.
I’m writing this Sunday night. I was so desperate to get to my counselor, and then go see my Doctor tomorrow. Then I remembered it’s Dr. Martin Luther King day. So, they’re both closed. The only thing I’ll be celebrating, is if I live through another night.
Sorry, I know this is a heavy topic. And there’s no jokes, or anything to make you laugh. Welcome to my reality. It’s not always a very pretty place.
Update: Monday I feel so much better! It’s amazing what having what you need, will do for you! Even did stuff! Cleaned!! (Don’t faint!!) De-cluttered!