Another Terrible Trip to the Psychiatrist's Office, Is There light at the End of the Tunnel?

I haven't written for awhile, because I wanted to be the kind of enlightened mental health writer that always has some fresh perspective on my recovery from depression.  Turns out it's a one day at a time struggle for me just like everyone else.  I also realized I don't really like doing research for every article, and so this blog is going be part of a larger project called "Breaking Free" An Alternative Approach to Depression and Bipolar, or something along those lines.  It will be semi autobiographical and consist of edited blog entries under different time periods or ideas about mental health….we shall see….

So lets get back to the story that is unfolding shall we? I have had five months depression free since doing a really short round of rtms. I got lucky, because it worked so well, but it didn't propel be into a mild hypomanic state, but instead left me with residual depressive symptoms, which I have been experiencing to some degree ever since.  I actually think this might be a good thing because it's giving me a chance to use my tools, while the depression is much smaller than me.

So now to my interpretation of Wednesday's doctors appointment….

The preceding week I had been feeling a bit tired of the daily grind, and a part of me just wanted to give up and let the negative thoughts run the show for awhile.  I was hoping that the Doctor would reaffirm that I was doing a pretty good job overall, which I am.

Sitting in his office I wrote the following…

Sometimes I wish this life could be easy and carefree all of the time,

My mind calm and collected,

An ocean of tranquility.

Instead the ocean is unruly,

Ripetides like Tofino,

Dragging me towards the rocks.

Now is not the time to panic,

But to swim diagonally towards the shore.

I am a pretty strong swimmer, and this did happen during a depressive bout, and my survival instinct did figure out how to get back to the shore quite easily.  I remember an intense feeling of calm and certainty that even though I was depressed, I wanted my life quite badly and I could trust my instincts and swim at an angle.  Sure enough, wave by wave, I got closer to my sister and her boyfriend who were oblivious to the fact I was in trouble.

Anyways, I read this to him, and he said…

"Only bipolar people can right prose like that. What symptoms possessed you to write that?"

Me: "Mid afternoon tiredness, fear of depressive thoughts…wishing things where easier."

Him:  " Do you have racing thoughts?"

Me: "Not really, maybe occasionally."

Him: "Are you anxious?"

Me: "On bad days for up to 30 min"

Him: "Did you know these mixed bipolar states are eating a hole in your brain?"

At this point I'm pretty taken back, not the kind of help I was looking for. He went on to explain bipolar damages your neurons.  Definitely a scare tactic.

Me: "That's pretty harsh, do you want to let me know what builds neurons?"

Him: "medications, mindfulness and exercise."

Well he's got two out of three, lol.

Anyways the rest of the appointment was spent with him telling me I'm oppositional and hard to work with, at which point I defended my right to have my own opinions based on my experiences.

We did reach the conclusion that I need to completely abstain from nicotine, because it can cause sleep issues, agitation and tiredness.  Fair enough, I have 48 hours nicotine free today!

I went back to my truck, dumbfounded, and on the Christian radio station I heard a song about God bringing us back to shore.  It was as though my higher power was answering my prayer, because psychiatry certainly was incapable of such a feat.

Later that day I went into an AA meeting, and when it was my time to share, I burst into tears.

I was so sad, I wanted assurance, but all I got was Bipolar is eating a whole in your brain and you need 5  medications instead of 4.  WOW…

Some kind people offered their words of wisdom:

"Take it one day at a time sweetheart, one hour at a time if you have too…"

Another member read me the following:

" As we go through the day we pause, when agitated or doubtful, and ask for the right thought or action. We constantly remind ourselves we are no longer running the show, humbly saying to ourselves many times each day “Thy will be done.” We are then in much less danger of excitement, fear, anger, worry, self-pity, or foolish decisions. We become much more efficient. We to not tire so easily for we are not burning up energy foolishly as we did when we were trying to arrange life to suit ourselves. "
From Alcoholics Anonymous: The Story of How Thousands of Men and Women Have Recovered, the so-called “AA Big Book,” 87-88. (AA World Services, Inc., New York, NY, 2001).

At this point I felt like I could go on, and stop obsessing about my apparently broken brain.

I than realized I'd lost my $700 IPhone…not to cool.  So I drove back to Calgary and retraced by steps. Sure enough, my cell phone was in the field by the psychiatrists office.

In the name of my own self esteem and self worth, I decided to let my psychiatrist know that that ignorant "bipolar is eating a hole in your brain" comment was hurtful.  I needed to go in there with no expectations of a positive outcome.

Fear and anxiety over confrontation made me feel like a nervous jello woman.  I went down to the river  to pray, and found a small pocket rock to give me strength for the 2nd face-off, with Calgary's self proclaimed Bipolar specialist.

Sitting in this office, images of emperor penguins danced across the television screen, and I knew my spirit helpers where near, and that this was important.

To be honest, the 2nd meeting was no better than the first.  When I told him how I felt, he said:

"What do you want, for me to lie to you?"

Fuck, what an asshole, I thought to myself.

I remained calm and collected.

I told him that in my experience, healers need to help build their clients strength and help them mitigate their problems.

He than told me I shouldn't be making friends with my illness, and that I needed another moodstablizer because I was under medicated.

I got the last word thought…

I told him I was going to write the alternative guide to living with bipolar, and he could preface it.

I left happier, lighter.  We both agreed no cigarettes for a month and see how I feel.  Sean will be coming with me next time, because my psychiatrist agrees with our light handed approach to medications when another person is present.

I went there looking for his approval, so that I could feel empowered.  Strangely his complete disregard for my holistic approach only solidified my truth:

I am no longer looking for a pill or a diagnosis to feel good about myself.  I will find my strength by sharing my journey with others and being of service to humanity.

I watched Intervention the other day, and I was moved to tears.  An alchoholic who left a trail of destruction and misery in her life, turns around and finds sobriety and goes onto be a drug and alcohol counsellor, and save hundreds of lost souls. All of her pain and suffering is transformed and becomes a catalyst for helping others.

As I was crying and sharing at AA, I said "I just pray that all of my depression and my attempts to find meaningful and sustainable recovery will eventually help someone else so that there can be meaning in all my suffering."  May this be so. Amen.

Watch out for overly indoctrinated, polypharmaceuticalist psychiatrists.

Stick with your penguins.