mizPossum

I don't know if there was another forum I could post this on, but I couldn't find a family forum. I have an anger problem that is actually my anxiety and depression. Anger is just my go-to emotion instead of feeling pain. My son is my world. He is almost 8. He sings songs about how much he loves me, leaves me little notes, and loves spending time with me. But I can be so mean to him. I say things that make him cry. Then, later, I myself cry over how cruel I can be to someone I love so, so much. I don't know how to stop. I just get so mad at some of the things he does that I can't help but yell at him! I don't know what else to do. Sometimes I just walk away without even saying a thing and lock myself in my bedroom for 10 or more minutes, seething. But that's just as mean, leaving him on his own. He calls himself a jerk and says he cant do anything right. I feel like I'm harming him in a fundamental way. I don't know what else to say or do. I just needed to get this out. I cry so much over this.

My psych put me on trazadone around March. I have insomnia really bad, and have been on all sorts of different meds for it. Trazadone is horrible. It made me feel so hungover. Nauseated, confused, tired, headaches, irritable. But I took it, because I figured it was better than no sleep. The other day a different doctor put me on 50mg of amitriptylin for a totally different reason. I did some research on it before taking it and found that some people use it as a sleep aid. Two nights ago, I stopped taking the trazadone and took that instead. The difference in the way I felt was incredible. I didn't feel any of symptoms that trazadone gave me and I slept through the night. I woke up feeling so much better and alert and rested. Is anyone else on amitriptylin? I've only been on it for 2 days, so Im curious as to what its like for long-time users.

I've been wanted to start a daily mood chart. I looked online & there are sooooooo many. Has anyone found one that they like? I feel like tracking my moods & things like that will give me better insight to my illness.

Thank you

I cried so hard in the shower last night that my eyes are swollen today. I can't even put on my trademark raccoon eye make-up (thick black eyeliner, black eyeshadow, layers of black mascara). They hurt. I sat in the bottom of my shower with the water spraying in my eyes, crying. I saw blood. I thought about blood. The water, in my mind, turned red. The walls seeped with blood. I heard the word BLOOD over and over and over in my head. I suppressed a scream so loud it would have burst my ear drums. Last weekend I went up north. I thought it was what I needed. It wasn't. What I needed was to go into the woods and let out that scream. I needed to punch trees and tear leaves off branches. I needed to be alone and dig blindly through dirt, ripping up roots. I NEEDED TO DESTROY THESE THOUGHTS. I NEEDED TO HURT TRUTH AND SOMETHING REAL. The forest is indestructible. It could have handled me. The trees will survive me. My decade long relationship with my soul mate will not. I am denying the urge to cut. I can not cut. I will not cut. But my eyes hurt so bad. I put spoons in the freezer to make cold so I can put them on my eyes to help the swelling. The pain of my eyes though are nothing compared to what is on the inside. Something needs to change. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do. I don't know whats wrong with me. Whats wrong with me. What do I do. How does this end. I don't know what to do.

Off and on since around Christmas I've been thinking about cutting. Over a decade ago, I was daily cutter. I cut multiple times a day for countless reasons. Sometimes there was so reason, it was just something I did, a part of my identity, so I did it. I became addicted. There is no other word for it. It was an addiction. It was everything I needed. A lover, a friend, a quiet space, a distraction. It was a scream on an unbearably quiet day, and it was silence on a day so loud I couldn't even think. I needed it very, very badly. I was comforted by a rusty razor blade. I'm sure some of you understand. Those of you who don't, I'm truly happy you never wandered down that ****** road. When I was 15/16, my parents sent me to a facility that- to this day- I am still not sure was a rehab or pysch ward. They sent me there for the cutting, and also because I abused illegal drug and prescription pills. I spent 56 days there. I haven't cut since then (although I did smoke and pop pills, and was later sent to a what is DEFINITELY a rehab center). There has been, inbetween then and now, a handful of times where I thought of cutting. Of doing it. But I never did, and it was a passing thought, one I never really dwelt on. Its a lot more than a passing thought now. A couple of times the only thing that stopped me was the fact that my boyfriend of 10 years would leave me. There is no place on my body that he doesn't see, so it would be impossible to hide. He watched me go through that in high school and refusing to watch me go through it again. I don't blame him. Most times, however, its plain old common sense that stops me. I know one cut will lead to many, many more. I do not want to start that addiction again. I know it would feel good for a few minutes, the screaming would stop, there would be no jumble of thoughts in my head to try to sort out and piece together. But it would only be that way for a couple minutes, then it would go away and I'd be left with a ****** mess to clean up. I will not give in. But still, I want to do it. Some days I feel like a zombie. I am so tired. I walk around in a daze, unsure of where I just came from and where I am going. Those days I think of cutting because it would wake me the **** up. It would shout in my ear, electrocute me, hurtle me into being. The days where my brain is so loud and there are so many thoughts going through my head I want it. Those days there are so many thoughts and I can't decipher ANY of them. Most aren't even full thoughts, just a jumble of words thrown haphazardly together, like a child trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle. On those days, cutting would make it quiet. But I don't, and I won't. I can't. It would be a temporary fix that would inevitably lead to disaster. I know that. I know that it's not a sane option, and I'm trying so desperately to hold on to the small thread of sanity I do have. I just...it just sounds so good. BUT I WILL NOT CUT. I WILL NOT CUT. I WILL NOT CUT. I WILL NOT CUT. If need be, Ill ask my boyfriend to remove all sharp objects from our house. Because I WILL NOT CUT! I'll stop now. I hope I didn't trigger any of you to go self harm, I just needed to get this all out.

I've been on it for 5 months

I LOVE reading. Its an escape for me. My favorites are memoirs. Marya Hornbacher has a memoir called Madness and it is my favorite book. Its actually the thing that inspired me to get help. I highly recommend it. It made me feel less alone.

Iv been taking it since March. Sooo like 5ish months. It wasn't this way at first. The first couple months were great.

Does anyone else taking Prozac feel like a damn zombie? Im only on 20mgs but its just draining me of everything. I don't know how to tell my psychiatrist that I want off Prozac. I do feel like i need something to keep me afloat, but Prozac has always done this to me. I'm just to timid to tell her, hey, this sucks.

I feel so far removed from everything. My boyfriends snoring in South Africa, my hands on the keyboard are in Antarctica. My mind and my thoughts are just so far gone from what is actually happening. I find myself zoning out, gazing into space. Its almost like daydreaming, except with no dreaming. I just breath. I go about the motions of a stay at home mom, when really I'm a robot. A zombie girl. EVERYTHING is exhausting and seemingly pointless. I dread putting on my makeup in the morning, then at night dread taking it off. Showers are put on hold. Brushing my teeth is like running a triathlon. Tomorrow I am going back to school shopping with my mom and my son. Both my son and I are getting fresh new school supplies. I get to splurge on pens (I have a slight obsession with pens) and my son gets Crayola markers. I'm trying to be excited. Im normally excited. I've always loved back to school shopping. The unmarked paper and never used pens were something I loved. But now, I don't want to go. I want the things, but I do not want to actually GO GET THEM. That means interacting with people. My mother has always drained me of energy, I love her but she just hits a nerve in me. I have to go though. I have to go and pretend to be normal and pretend to smile and pretend to care. I know trying to sleep tonight will be pointless. Its hard for me to sleep with make up on, its just so uncomfortable on my eyes, but can I actually take it off? Can I go through the motions of walking to the bathroom, standing in front of the sink for eternity while the water warms, then scrub my face until its raw? All the layers of mascara, all the water-proof, 24hr eyeliner I wear. I paint my eyes in all black, deep black, thick lines. Im getting a headache just thinking about it. Headaches, too. So many headaches. I'm not sure if they are from being so tired all the time, or if Im tired all the time because of the migraines. I can't help but wonder if this is the Prozac. If Im a zombie because of that little pill I take every morning. Im only on 20mgs, which Ive been told is a low dose. It worked at first, for a couple months. And now I don't feel depressed, I don't feel anything. Only the ever-present exhaustion, taunting me ALL DAY LONG. I can't do this anymore. I'd rather have emotions, any emotion, than this. This is hell, and I can not stay here any longer. I think tomorrow Ill take myself off the Prozac. I just can't do it anymore. I feel like when I see my psychiatrist next week she'll only up my dose, saying its not working anymore. She clearly loves Prozac, she always says its a miracle pill. I am too meek to say no, to say I want to try something different. Prozac has always done this to me. I don't know why I agreed to it in the first place, besides for the fact that I can't say no. I'm too timid to have a say in my own recovery. **** this.

Thanks for the input. I am going to talk to my pysch about maybe changing my meds. I can't be this tired all the time, not with a 7 year old son.

And just like that, I fell out of love. I've been with my boyfriend for over a decade. We're high school sweethearts and have a 7 year old son. It happened at night. We were laying together in bed, and I felt it leave through my fingers. And I cried. I cried for days. He asked me why I was crying and all I could manage to say was "I don't know." In truth, it was because I felt such a profound loss. It was gut-wrenching. I felt lost. I knew I still loved him, but I could not feel it at all. At night, in bed, I moved as far away from him on the mattress as possible. He often slept on the couch because he could feel my discomfort. Our sex life dwindled, as did the simple acts of affection. The hand-holding, the soft kisses, the secrets, hugs. It was almost totally gone. Those motions felt forced. He could tell something was wrong. Sometimes I'd cry during sex because the intense passion I've always felt for him was nil. It was so, so sad. For both of us. We became distant. He even said at one point that it felt like he was living with a roommate, not a girlfriend. My poor boyfriend. The pain I was feeling manifested in him and he started drinking more, going to the bars, and working longer hours. This, on top of depression, made me go to a therapist to seek help. I wanted to be in love with him again, I wasn't going to give up and neither was he. My therapist sent me to a pysch, who prescribed Prozac. And slowly, the feelings came back. I could feel it when we touched, that electric spark we've always had that sets static electricity to everything we touch. He sometimes come to therapy with me. Things sometimes feel a little forced, but I am in love with my love of my life again.

I recently went through a bout of anhedonia. I've been with my boyfriend for 10 years. I am very, very much in love with him. However, around Christmas I suddenly fell out of love with him. I knew I still loved him, but I just didn't feel it at all. I would lay next to him at bed at night and not feel a thing. It was like I was laying by myself. It sucked and I went deeper into depression. My suggestion is to just be there for him. If he asks for help, help him. If he says he needs space, as painful as it might be, give him space. If you think he needs nurturing, then nurture him. I would say to not push him though, it might make him retreat further.