This page has been blank for at least ten minutes. I am at a coffee shop. In a past life, before my depression consumed everything, I frequently dropped into a bunch of different local coffee shops. It is nice to get out of the house, work on whatever and people watch.
Of course, in the last few months before I entirely went off Adderall I rarely left the house other than for work. At work I was scared much of the time, a low level of panic throughout every day — all day. I feared social interaction, going to sleep, eating out, everything. The anxiety poisoned everything.
I’m fairly confident I’ve always operated in a state of mild anxiety. I know my first suicidal thoughts were in third grade. I relished the thought of the teacher telling everyone. The students would look shocked, some would cry, the boy who was mean to me would know it was his fault. Killing myself would solve so much.
At thirteen I began to grapple with my sexuality. Always, always had I been attracted to boys, to my friends. In fourth and fifth grade I’d play with myself while imagining my friends and I all wrestling and rolling around naked. I didn’t know why I liked it, maybe I just want to check if I looked normal.
Growing up conservative I knew about the homosexuals. Perverts. Pedophiles. ——
You know what. Never mind. I want to explain why I am this way. I want to justify it. Tragic childhood. Self-hatred. Blah, blah, blah.
However, when I crash, when I want to die, taking a walk doesn’t pull me out of. Neither does going for a drive, or writing about it. Spending time with friends or having a dog also doesn’t interrupt my suicidal thoughts.
Telling myself my thoughts are just words, doesn’t help. Singing my suicidal thoughts to make them sound ridiculous, that is ridiculous. The thoughts still persist.
The desire to kill oneself isn’t rational. Even in those moments, the lowest of the low, when I am curled up into a ball screaming in my head to spray my brains on the wall, I know those thoughts aren’t rational. To some degree I’m aware I don’t want to die, even in those moments, it is why I am still here.
I feel fine right now, I’m glad to be at a coffee shop. I don’t feel fine because I got out of my house and went to a coffee shop. No, going out when crashing, terrifying, panic inducing.
Medicine can fix this. It is why Adderall got so out of control, it gave me access to a life I never realized existed. I hate myself, I hate myself because I view myself as a disappointment. And unless I become a tech billionaire and president, I’ll continue to be unsatisfied with my life.
Adderall showed me a life were I wasn’t paralyzed by the constant internal war. Adderall let me experience the world in the moment, it let me ignore my head and concentrate on now. Nuvigil is doing that right now. It goes up and down, part of the day/dose is better than others, parts are still bad.
I’ve always tried to fight this battle, always. There wasn’t a choice, you either fight against the suicidal thoughts or obey them.
The idea that my actions are useless, I hate. Partly because I feel personally responsible for every failure, I love torturing myself with those failures. Inability to function emotionally — failure. But I don’t think it is within my control. Medication is so different than therapeutic tools. Therapeutic tools comfort, to some degree, during those moments of internal warfare.
Medication removes the conflict from erupting, it prevents the war. There is no fight to lose, no carnage. There is just Saturday, me and a coffee shop.
Current Medication: Nuvigil 250mg (125mg at 7am, 125mg at 1pm), Memantine 10mg (new), Lamictal 200mg, Pristiq 100mg, Trazadone 100mg, Strattera 80mg, Seroquel XR 300