On Medication, At Last
So I didn't exactly keep that last post up to date, huh. Well, here I am.
Nearly 2 weeks later. Ha.
The trip to the hospital was fine. I took a close classmate with me because one, I'm hella scared and not ashamed to admit it, and two, it's been my policy to always have a viable witness in case anything happens. Not that anything's gonna happen, but just in case.
* shrug *I'm paranoid like that.
At first the nurse at the counter was pissed at me 'cause we didn't make an early appointment and treated an expert facility like a walk-in try-out when I gave her the referral letter but she got quiet after reading the letter and asked us to sit somewhere while she ask for available professors.
I didn't read the letter when I got it and my classmate couldn't read the doc's handwriting (I could, it's a bit like Mom's) but I happened to read snippets of sentences as the letter was passed around to me in the process of getting my information administered in the system. My blood ran cold when I saw some of it and I tried to keep my calm in a pristine, fancy-ass looking hospital by breathing through my mouth.
Fortunately, my classmate had the perfect timing for funny jokes, and the panic passed without a scene. It was easier to gulp in the tight air if I was talking.
When my number was up and I went into the room, it was like walking into a dead space. There was a lone cot in the middle of the room, all pristine and unruffled, and the psychiatrist (MY psychiatrist now, seeing that I have monthly appointments with the same person) asked me to sit down and tell him what's the problem.
It was hard to get the words out, at first.
I stuttered a lot, and long silences followed up after that. He didn't seem to mind.
After a while, I got over my stuttering, and...well, opened the pandora box.
He wasn't fazed with the past.
He wanted to know the present.
One thing he kept insistent with was the details.
The dates, the years, the place, the situation, the people.
It was a brief silence after I was done, and he finished typing up my file. Then he turned to me and asked if I would be alright to take medication, or if I have ever had taken any kind of medication before. I asked him medication for what, and he said, "Depression. You have to take medications for depression, and though some people rejected, these could help you in the long run because as of now, you are running in circles.".
I decided to take a shot with it.
And the meds are free anyway since the facility belongs to UiTM.
He prescribed me with anti-depressants, anxiety, and sleeping pills (for the insomnia, he says, but he warned me not to take them in regular doses) that I have to keep a strict schedule with. Anti-depressants in the morning, Anxiety by night.
The sleeping pills is only when necessary, and not to be taken with the anxiety pills together.
He gave me a card and jot down my next appointment. And off I went.
For now, the meds haven't given me any issues. I've yet to have any breakdown tendencies either and looking at the sharp changes I've made in my journal from the past month, I'd say the meds are actually doing something good.
I've gotten the best sleep without feeling guilty or wistful or fear that I've associated with it, without thoughts of nightmares and night terrors and my demons never shutting the fuck up and my voice screaming fucking murder inside my head.
I've not gotten overthinking shit and mistreating my body health in turn for work because now that I've got meds to think about, I can't afford to miss daily meals.
I can't say the last time a self-harm image had been in my head and THAT'S a feat in and of itself because I've said it somewhere, somewhen, that I ALWAYS think about it. It's ALWAYS at the back of my mind no matter what I do and no matter what I do, I miss it.
And now I don't even think about my stash of pocket-knives that roomie keeps.
I think that's a good start.
For now, we'll see where it leads.
P/S : I don't fucking know how to break this to my family. Help?
Nearly 2 weeks later. Ha.
The trip to the hospital was fine. I took a close classmate with me because one, I'm hella scared and not ashamed to admit it, and two, it's been my policy to always have a viable witness in case anything happens. Not that anything's gonna happen, but just in case.
* shrug *
At first the nurse at the counter was pissed at me 'cause we didn't make an early appointment and treated an expert facility like a walk-in try-out when I gave her the referral letter but she got quiet after reading the letter and asked us to sit somewhere while she ask for available professors.
I didn't read the letter when I got it and my classmate couldn't read the doc's handwriting (I could, it's a bit like Mom's) but I happened to read snippets of sentences as the letter was passed around to me in the process of getting my information administered in the system. My blood ran cold when I saw some of it and I tried to keep my calm in a pristine, fancy-ass looking hospital by breathing through my mouth.
Fortunately, my classmate had the perfect timing for funny jokes, and the panic passed without a scene. It was easier to gulp in the tight air if I was talking.
When my number was up and I went into the room, it was like walking into a dead space. There was a lone cot in the middle of the room, all pristine and unruffled, and the psychiatrist (MY psychiatrist now, seeing that I have monthly appointments with the same person) asked me to sit down and tell him what's the problem.
It was hard to get the words out, at first.
I stuttered a lot, and long silences followed up after that. He didn't seem to mind.
After a while, I got over my stuttering, and...well, opened the pandora box.
He wasn't fazed with the past.
He wanted to know the present.
One thing he kept insistent with was the details.
The dates, the years, the place, the situation, the people.
It was a brief silence after I was done, and he finished typing up my file. Then he turned to me and asked if I would be alright to take medication, or if I have ever had taken any kind of medication before. I asked him medication for what, and he said, "Depression. You have to take medications for depression, and though some people rejected, these could help you in the long run because as of now, you are running in circles.".
I decided to take a shot with it.
And the meds are free anyway since the facility belongs to UiTM.
He prescribed me with anti-depressants, anxiety, and sleeping pills (for the insomnia, he says, but he warned me not to take them in regular doses) that I have to keep a strict schedule with. Anti-depressants in the morning, Anxiety by night.
The sleeping pills is only when necessary, and not to be taken with the anxiety pills together.
He gave me a card and jot down my next appointment. And off I went.
For now, the meds haven't given me any issues. I've yet to have any breakdown tendencies either and looking at the sharp changes I've made in my journal from the past month, I'd say the meds are actually doing something good.
I've gotten the best sleep without feeling guilty or wistful or fear that I've associated with it, without thoughts of nightmares and night terrors and my demons never shutting the fuck up and my voice screaming fucking murder inside my head.
I've not gotten overthinking shit and mistreating my body health in turn for work because now that I've got meds to think about, I can't afford to miss daily meals.
I can't say the last time a self-harm image had been in my head and THAT'S a feat in and of itself because I've said it somewhere, somewhen, that I ALWAYS think about it. It's ALWAYS at the back of my mind no matter what I do and no matter what I do, I miss it.
And now I don't even think about my stash of pocket-knives that roomie keeps.
I think that's a good start.
For now, we'll see where it leads.
P/S : I don't fucking know how to break this to my family. Help?
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