April 20, 2010
And I had to go out in it at 7 o’clock this morning to go to my psychiatrist appointment. Ugh.
I told the doc how I feel I’ve been slipping a bit. The last few days have been pretty good, but overall, these past 3-4 weeks have been kind of low for me in terms of mood, anxiety level, and self-harm urges. I thought maybe my body is adjusting to the medication to the point where it is losing effectiveness, but my psych said it’s likely I’m experiencing what he calls “breakthrough depression,” which is common at this point in treatment – and that if I weren’t on medication, my symptoms would likely be much more severe. Anyways, I’m taking a greater dosage of Lexapro now.
I also told him about waking up 1-3 times a night from vivid nightmares. Apparently the Seroquel doesn’t cause nightmares, but it can cause you to remember your dreams more clearly. So it’s likely that I have bad dreams all of the time, but now I’m just recalling them. Great. I think my brain is just too creative for my own good – or simply masochistic. Or both. Anyways, he doubled my dosage of Seroquel so I hopefully sleep better. We’ll see how that works.
I had a thought while I was sitting there in the psych office… One that I would never act on, but intriguing nonetheless: “You know, I could totally B.S. my way through this whole thing and get whatever I wanted out of it.” All of the psychiatrist’s medication adjustments are based on my reporting of my symptoms. I could make up anything I wanted to just to see what he would do. It could go both ways too – I could go to one extreme and tell him I’ve been seeing purple elephants everywhere, which would lead to a diagnosis of some other mental illness and being put on lithium or something. Or I could tell him everything is back to normal and nothing’s wrong and I could get off meds entirely if I wanted. Good thing I have no motivation to fake any symptoms or lie about anything. Besides the fact that my conscience wouldn’t let me be anything but honest. But I’m more than a bit intrigued by the fact that I could pull the wool over the doc’s eyes…
Naughty, naughty Edde…