Well, it’s that special time of year.

My doctor and I met this Saturday to discuss my medications and making adjustments of the same. I usually see one of The Two Brothers, (the family practice I go to, two of the doctors are VERY CUTE brothers, which only sucks when you’re discussing things like daily diarrhea…as I have had to do), but this weekend I saw the third doctor at the practice. He’s also fairly cute but doesn’t know me very well, so the appointment went longer than usual and felt more invasive. I completed the PHQ-9 and GAD-7; questionnaires regarding current symptoms of depression and anxiety, and scored pretty high on both. What can I say? I’m an overachiever. Doctor #3 was concerned, although I answered no to the question about suicidality, and I took the time to explain to him that this happens every damn year around this time, no biggie, just need adjustments.

Doctor #3 agreed I did in fact need changes in the dosages of my meds. Instead of changing both my psych meds, (bad idea), he raised my Lamictal and kept my Abilify the same for now. Lamictal is more for mood regulation and depression, and he’d rather boost me up to baseline before messing with Abilify. I was disappointed because Abilify can make me a zombie if I’m taking too high a dosage for the time…but being tired all the time is temporary and lamictal is my safety net against depression, so I agree it’s safer to raise that dosage before lowering Abilify. Barely. I agree barely.

He also asked how often I take clonazepam, and I told him honestly only when there’s no other option…I hate Benzodiazepines. They knock me out and make me essentially useless for the rest of the day. They’re also very likely to become addictive for the poor anxious person taking them, it’s easy to build a tolerance, and frankly I’d rather not. I think it’s idiotic and indicative of the arrogance of the medical profession to even suggest benzos to someone who’s not severely anxiety-struck. I, however, am pretty severe, but I also have a busy life and I can’t check out every night even when anxiety is raging. So I appreciate the offer, but I have so many unused clonazepam that I’m pretty much covered until spring. I really would rather have something else for anxiety, but Utah has stupid laws regarding what I would prefer to use.

So I took my new dosage of lamictal last night, slept in this morning, and I feel WEIRD. I honestly can’t identify the feeling, but it’s there and perturbing. Literally ever year I go through this process. Med adjustment, feel weird for a few weeks, eventually level out, feel moderately better. Every year it’s uncomfortable as hell. Every year I’m in an emotional/physical/mental pit of darkness at the start of autumn, and every year my loved ones and my doctors work to pull me out into the light. So feeling as if I can’t put my finger on the emotion and general feeling of the med change is frustrating as can be.

Don’t you recognize your own brain by now, Ms. Jady? Well, sure, I know we’re going into the dark forest, but every time the path has overgrown in a new and confusing way. Sometimes I stumble, discombobulated and unsure of myself. I have family and friends to cheer me on, but no one can walk for you. So my machete (meds) and I are navigating the underbrush (depression) until hopefully I get to a clearing (clarity and acceptance), and find myself knowing who I am. Every damn year. Every time.

The trick of this whole adventure is I have to maintain sanity in the world of work. I’m a goddamn professional, and even with my few years as a therapist, I know that giving therapy while you yourself are going through things is very, very hard to do. Of course, we manage, because giving up and giving in to depression is not a reasonable option. I work in the life-or-death world of substance abuse, and I matter to a lot of people. My work is important to me, and to my clients and coworkers. I want to avoid burnout (been there, not fun), I also want to feel as if I’m not constantly failing, and that’s a trademark symptom that lamictal will address. So this weird feeling following a dosage increase is worth it. I love my job, I want to do well in my job, and most of all I don’t want to feel like a fake and failure. It makes me anxious all day, every day, but as we have discussed my baseline anxiety is pretty high.

I think that’s why I’m handling the pandemic better than a lot of people. The world ended, but it was NOT my fault, and that’s weird comforting. When you run hot with anxiety, everything feels like your responsibility and every mistake feels like your problem. But ‘feelings’ don’t own you. You own your brain. She’s a little brat sometimes…but just like a difficult client, you have to approach her from a place of curiosity and love. Yelling at a challenge will never yield results (except for a hoarse throat and madness), being in a place where you are accepting and loving makes all the difference. It makes times like this tolerable. It keeps me from ticking off that ‘suicidality’ box. It’s the answer….because there’s no cure for what I have…and I don’t like any other option.

This weekend, being shockingly proactive, I accepting an invitation to visit a friend and decorate for halloween. I asked a friend to come over for dinner and a movie tonight. I want to curl up in bed and forget everything I have to get done, but charting will happen too. I even cleaned up the place a bit, and for that I feel I earned a big damn cookie. Hell, I might even fold a few pieces of the overflowing, clean but not folded, stacking up to the ceiling, pile of laundry. These things help. They are difficult, but they are helpful. It’s Sunday and I want to feel accomplished and ready for the week ahead. Having good memories of friend visits, having clothing ready for the week, and having my work in a manageable place, all important steps.

Of course, I blogged instead of immediately starting with work this morning. Because my brain deserves a bit of attention too. Maybe she won’t throw a tantrum daily if she gets love and care. Maybe. Or she will continue to be a brat and I will handle her bullshit, because I own her and I’m used to owning a little monster (thanks, Oscar).

In any case, I really am fine. I’m actually competent at this. I wouldn’t say no to a brilliant idea of how to calm down and relax. Right now ‘relaxing’ isn’t comfortable, it would be an unusual concept that I’d struggle to accept. However, ideas, well-wishes, cheerleading, and companionship help out a lot. I have to walk the path by myself, but that does not mean I am alone.

Lastly, please send good energy to my family, in particular the member headed into surgery today. What a wonderful human, and what a scary thing to do. Bravery and healing, please. Peace.