Day 232 of titrating
Starting dose: 1.5mg
Current Dose: 1.278mg
Yep, a Saturday post to make up for yesterday.
What a week. I’m told to focus on the now, but when you’re every single day experience is a roller-coaster of the stress amigos (Adrenaline, Cortisol, and Norepinephrine), things linger. When things linger in a cPTSD brain, there’s no telling how much ruminating is going to happen. Hell, throw in progesterone and estrogen not knowing what levels they need to be at this week, and you’ve got a perfect storm of internal chaos.
The hold went well, and since I felt my body and mind were in a week four kind of withdrawal state, it’s time to continue the downward trend.
Cognitively I’m feeling less foggy, but I still have what I call dissociative euphoria. The closest comparison I can give is when you start to feel the buzz of the rum and coke you started sipping on an hour ago. It’s the most ‘in control’ I feel of all the states I’ve experience. I hope it stays at this level if it’s not going to leave me alone. Physically, my body has become stiffer and slower to respond to physical movement. My digestive system has taken a hit: I’m used to rapid transit digestion. These past few weeks, nothing’s moving.
I learned a crucial lesson about myself while this is going on: don’t over book yourself, and stick to a simple routine. Only add a challenging aspect when you know in your gut you can deal with whatever outcome, and expect outcomes to have ripple effects a few days later.
Four of the days were scheduled for medical appointments. I switched out my GP appointment so my mother could have the slot. My GP is like every other doctor in this province: ill-equipped for chronic conditions, overworked and for some reason has no interest in learning when offered information on academic practices from other countries (not what Dr. Google told me, I’d hate that kind of patient too if I switched shoes). If I need an Rx, no problem. But I’m starting to lose patience with the lack of professionalism of taking things personally. I’m serious. An MD should not get mad at a patient for seeking a second opinion, alternative medicine, or methods of care in which are outside their scope of practice (and they told you this: why are you then offended and taking it out on me?). The position of not liking patients taking an active role in their care while in the midst of a healthcare crisis has to stop.
With the current wait-list to find another family doctor well over a year, it’s not a fact of afraid of starting fresh. It’s the fear of none at all.
Then there was all the therapies (physical and mental). The body and brain were put through the ringer.
I spend a lot of times in uncomfortable waiting rooms.
There was even one appointment where I didn’t move for two hours… Check out my heart-rate. I was in a two-hour state of panic that kept my heart pumping as if I was doing a brisk walk. My entire body and brain seized up for roughly seven hours afterward. I lost the rest of the day.
The last stress inducer was having to see family. It was a lose-lose situation. If I didn’t go, I didn’t get to see family who I haven’t seen in over a year, and partake in my youngest cousin’s birthday. If I go, I have to deal with a boat load of toxic behavior. I ate my spoonful of shit and went. I don’t regret for the youngster, but I reminded myself why I keep my distance from these people. Oh, and it was causally mentioned that my other uncle has now been in the hospital for two weeks waiting for a hip replacement. At least now I know?
It wasn’t all terrible. One of my appointments, I decided to change things up with my hair. My hair is a big way in how I express myself. It’s in stage one of becoming a fire ombre.
Hair days are both physically and mentally taxing, but at a level I tolerate.
Well, that’s all from me today. The goal for me is to get in a nice walk to reset, and challenge myself to eat a burger (it’s burger week here in Halifax). This week is reflecting on skills I need to work on, and figuring out how the hell you build self-confidence when it’s extremely difficult to find pride in simply waking up. What is it that people see in me that I don’t? Why don’t I believe them? Why can’t I just do things?
Good luck out there with your own weekly journey.