Lawrence Bailey77 As expressed by:
I’ve officially gone off the Fevarin. I can't help but wonder—was I just feeling incredibly nauseous because of it?
To be perfectly honest, I ended up tossing most of my medications in the trash.
I've been trying to cut back on the xanax lately... I really only reach for it when I need help sleeping, mostly because it’s the one thing that keeps the nightmares at bay.
I’ve been grinding all day trying to find an alternative, but honestly, I’m coming up empty. It’s a tough spot to be in. As long as things stay this difficult, I feel like my true self—but then I take the pills and suddenly I just feel sick and drugged out, which honestly makes me even more depressed. I suppose I'd rather deal with the psychological and physical ache of reality than face the realization that I’ve turned into a total zombie.
There is just so much weighing on me... it’s been dragging on for such a long time. Honestly, no pill or medication seems to actually fix anything; they only manage to dull the symptoms. And if I’m being completely honest—though it's a difficult thing to admit—it feels exactly like when I have a drink to numb the pain. It doesn't solve the issue; it just makes me feel like I don't care, as if I'm forcibly stripping away parts of my own identity just to ignore the reality of what's happening.
The thing is, I am actively seeking help, but the real dilemma lies in the balance: how much of myself am I willing to let someone else carry, and how much am I still trying to shoulder on my own? 🙂
They keep trying to convince me that I’m actually normal. It gives me this flicker of hope, I guess—this idea that there might be a real chance I'll actually feel alive again. You know, like how I used to feel? Most of the time, not just in those occasional, fleeting memories. It’s been like this for a few years now.
My mother-in-law seems to be doing much better on Brintellix. In the beginning, she had quite a few side effects that bothered her, but those passed, and now it actually seems to be working. From what I can tell, Olanzapine works for her too. It’s wild because when she was taking Brintellix alongside Zyprexa, she looked like a walking corpse. She spent most of her time just lying in bed—zero communication, total lack of motivation, neglecting her hygiene, and just completely losing interest in everything. She lost so much weight and just let herself go. That went on for about three months. It honestly makes no sense to me how that could happen if Zyprexa and Olanzapine belong to the same drug class with the exact same composition, just made by different manufacturers. It simply doesn't add up. Which means, in all likelihood, she wasn't actually taking her therapy—specifically the Zyprexa. She lied to us; she promised she would take it and then totally betrayed both me and my husband, though I suppose that's beside the point. She probably thought that just the Brintellix would fix her, which is impossible. And that state she was in? It was a psychotic episode, at least according to the psychiatrist I consulted. I eventually found a massive pile of pills among her things—three or four entire boxes of Zyprexa—with only a couple of tablets missing. She’s okay now... well, as okay as she can be given her condition, but she is functioning. She isn't spending the entire day stuck in bed anymore. Personally, I have taken over her medication management; I give her her doses every single day and make sure she swallows them right in front of me, since I keep the pills myself. Unfortunately, she refuses to help herself. I can't wrap my head around whether she somehow finds it "comfortable" to be sick—as if being ill allows her behavior to be tolerated—or if she simply doesn't grasp the reality of what's happening to her. She knows she has a mental illness, but it’s like she doesn't realize just how much that illness has taken over her entire existence. It's also heartbreaking because the illness has progressed so far that it's affecting her intelligence and her motor skills. She trips over her own feet and drops things constantly. And let me be clear, she doesn't just look clumsy—I know what actual clumsiness looks like, and this is different.🙂It’s really just about whether her motor skills are actually improving or not. Honestly, even on her "best" days—whether she's taken her medication or not—it's pretty obvious where things stand. I honestly can't picture her ever coming onto a forum like this to talk about how she's doing. I don't think she'd even know what to write, let alone be able to grasp what any of you guys are saying. Her ability to communicate is... well, let's call it "minimal." It would probably just be small talk, like asking about the weather, or complaining about the economy, or how much gas prices have spiked lately. A conversation with her would go something like: HER: "Hi." ME: "Hey, how are you?" HER: "Fine." ME: "How was work?" HER...😁So, there was this long, heavy silence. Then, after about two minutes, SHE just breaks it: "Got a cigarette?" Me? I’m like, "Yeah, here you go. Can I get you a soda or some coffee?" She goes, "Sure." And then... nothing. Just silence again. She picks up her things and leaves. Bye. I’ve tried so many times to actually have a real conversation with her, but it’s impossible. It’s just a constant loop of "Yes," "No," "Fine," "I don't know," "I don't want to," or "I will." Or she’ll just make some random comment about whatever is playing on the TV, and that’s it. It is incredibly rare—like, vanishingly rare—that she ever asks me how I am doing or anything even remotely personal. The root of all this, from what I can tell, is probably twenty years of improper treatment or, frankly, no treatment at all. But I don't blame her. How could I? And I don't blame her parents, who have both passed away now. My husband told me what he remembers from when she was a kid, and she never really wanted much help; she always felt like everyone was picking on her. I just don't know... We fight for her as hard as we can. I don't expect much, really. My only real hope is that things don't spiral further—that she doesn't wake up ten or fifteen years from now and look at me and my husband like we're total strangers. But man, it is so, so difficult. Especially mentally. It hurts. It’s heartbreaking to deal with that level of indifference, and having to maintain this endless reservoir of patience when you don't even get a "thank you" for it... it wears you down. But you try to find peace with it. You try to learn not to take it all so personally.
Kudos to everyone here who keeps the conversation going regarding this topic. I honestly wonder if the core struggle for people living with this diagnosis is that tendency to withdraw entirely and just shut down communication with the world. Personally, I don't hold any prejudices against any kind of mental health condition—not this one included—but sometimes the whole situation can be just so exhausting. It’s hard when you genuinely want to help someone but feel like your only real option is to suggest medication. It feels a bit tragic, truly, but thank God those treatments work; when my mother-in-law hits her lowest points, things get incredibly intense, and without the meds, we simply wouldn't know how to handle it.
My advice to you is this: as difficult as it may feel, please stay consistent with your medication and keep working on yourself. It helps maintain a level of control, and hopefully, it might even lead to recovery or at least help you regain a sense of reality, which is a huge step toward healing... please don't fall into the same trap my mother-in-law did for years. If you don't mind me asking, are you currently working? And do you live on your own or with someone else?