I need help; life is not good at all. 2015

I have worked out that I have been clinically depressed for almost 3 years now.

I haven't cleaned most of my house in all that time.  This means the cheap linoleum floor in my kitchen makes a sticky sound when I walk across it.  There are daddy-long-legs cobwebs everywhere.  The light switches have grime all over them, as do handles everywhere.  The kitchen cupboards are stained with brown streaks of dried liquid such as milk which I've spilled and now it has turned brown.  My bathroom is a cesspit of mould.  You get the picture: Addams-Family house.

Then there's the garden: tall weeds everywhere.  I paid a man to mow the long grass recently.  All the plants need pruning desperately.

You'd think I'd have woken up to myself long ago and demanded help from my psychiatrist with my meds.   He has tried me on 3 different anti-depressants since January 2013.  They haven't worked.  It all lies with me being on the Saphris, the antipsychotic he put me on in January 2013.  Saphris is the key.

In 2012 I was drinking heavily, and was on Zyprexa.  Aside from the drinking I was functioning better than I am now, except the Zyprexa had caused me to gain 15 kilos (which I could ill-afford).  My psychiatrist offered me a deal: an anti-psychotic that didn't make me hungry in exchange for me quitting the booze.  I said ok, and haven't drunk since Xmas day 2012.

When I was in hospital switching from Zyprexa to Sapphris in January 2013, I had a manic and psychotic episode.  My doctor later explained that the Saphris didn't have the sedative qualities  that the Zyprexa did so as a result I had to be on a slightly lower dose of anti-depressant.  I am highly sensitive to having too much anti-depressant, despite being on Lithium 1000mg; Epilim 1500 mg and Saphris 25 mg.  Not even 10mg Lexapro and 20mg of Brintellix has helped.  This has seen my mood dive since March 2013 when the last of the mania wore off.

I accept that I can't "demand" an increase in anti-depressant from my psychiatrist; he calls the shots.  But my life has become worse and worse.  I am not coping.  Sometimes I think about overdosing on pills, but I know I can't.  But this is hell.

First post for 2015......in November for fuck's sake

Long time between drinks, so to speak.  Still sober, still smoking, had two stints in hospital and became isolated to the extent that I have mild agoraphobia now.  Just another shitbox year.  Christ something has to give.....

Have been to about a dozen AA meetings this year all up; like to keep my distance for a few reasons.  I've been burned from 3 friendships made in AA and find many who attend to have weird outlooks on life (like me a bit I guess!).  I also find it impossible to avoid the chest-pointing zealots who challenge me to attend more than the 2 meetings or so a week I feel comfortable with, not fucking 4 as a minimum or god forbid, daily meetings.  Mainly though I find it hard to stick at doing anything so I drift in and out.  Thankfully I don't feel like drinking.

The hospital stay was as a result of trying to quit smoking again; my psychiatrist put me on Zyban which elevated me so he instructed me to not only cease that but to halve my anti-depressant.  Unfortunately a couple of months later I became suicidal hence hospital.

Over the past few months I have had a lot of trouble with bedtimes, usually staying up till 3, 4 or 5am.  It might be depression or some sort of dysfunction, but I like staying up and watching YouTube, if only to get my regular dose of hilarity in watching Donald Trump's latest pearls of wisdom.  Megalomaniac dickhead.

My agoraphobia has reached new heights in the past 18 months or so; not quite sure how it started; I think depression and anxiety have a lot to do with it.  What I have learned is the more you stay in, the more you don't want to leave.  I find mowing the front lawn really hard now; my head tells me the neighbours who might see me would say "about time that lazy fat bitch mowed that disgusting overgrown lawn".

My head also tells me charming stuff like: shops attendants laugh and giggle about me as soon as I've paid and left; if I eat in public people would think "look at that fat elephant stuffing her face, she's fucking disgusting"; or basically anyone I meet face to face would think that I look awful and am weak and pathetic.

Hence I avoid people.  Full stop.  Unless forced not to.

I need to work on this with my clinical psychologist.  I see her in 2 weeks.

Shit I'm getting tired.  4.15am.  Bed soon.

Oh, on a positive note I've managed to lose 8 kilos using meal replacement shakes twice a day.  My GP says it's ok provided my night meal is nutritious and that I eat snacks as well as the shakes due to my diabetes.

At least something is going right!