July, 2nd — To the specialists

This article is part of the series “What is like to attempt suicide and fail”. Start there, if you have not read it yet.

Everything I’m going to write here was different ten days ago. And this is how it is with people like me. And that’s why it gets so unbearable. And that’s why some time it has to stop.

To the psychiatrist

The first week with the new Lithium (CR) was breathtaking. The depression was gone. In its place came nothing. And nothing is much better than depression. Done deal if you ask me.

A strange effect struck me in the first few days. I stopped seeing normally. My vision is now blurred, especially in the morning. It improves a tiny bit towards the end of the day, but almost nothing. Overall, permanently blurry view. In addition to that, flashes, traces of light that I “see” behind the eyes. All day long.

To read and write, 200% zoom on whatever screen I am looking at. And yet, I do not see well.

There’s more. I am having strong tremors. I’ve had this for a long time, but it’s getting worse. I can not hold anything too firmly. The phone, a pen, camera. Everything suffers in my hands, begging to fall.

Needless to say, the two problems get in the way of work and life.

And there’s more. The remedy of the night, Quetiapine, an antipsychotic, knocks me out in a way I can barely wake up the following day. When I wake up it’s to drag myself around like a zombie for several hours, until I’m eventually able to act better, possibly when the chemicals stop acting.

The worst comes now. Do you know that depression that disappeared at the beginning? Here at the end she’s back. And strong. With different triggers, but the same strength as ever. Disabling. I just think about the worst.

To the psychoanalyst

The weeks have been good until they get bad, really bad.

The change of medication by the psychiatrist caused a great improvement in my emotions. For as long as the effects lasted. And, I believe, just because of them. At no time was I able to direct the focus of my thoughts, my attention, to good things, sources of happiness, subjects that would bring me some kind of benefit. My well-being, from D-Day to today, is 100% artificial. It is weak.

The pain I feel at the moment is absurdly great. The old triggers are gone. The new ones arrived, with a sense of panic, feelings of being stabbed to the heart, thoughts of imminent, necessary death.

Yesterday I got home, in the passenger’s seat. I haven’t been driving much. With the car parked in the garage, I was supposed to leave, but could not move. I stood there, catatonic for a little more than two hours, staring at nothing. Two hours. Without leaving the car. Looking at nothing. The day before, I found myself in a similar situation, looking at the wall for a good 20 minutes.

Do you know that pride, that feeling that a new day comes around and needs you, or vice versa? I do not have it anymore. I feel worse every day. Closer to a finish than a start.

Click the heart to recommend this story. And comment if you feel like it.