King-Anubis
Bluelighter
Four months ago, after 9 years of depression my psychiatrist finally decided that my depression wasn't part of my psychosis and thus not treatable with antipsychotics. He let me decide on an antidepressant. I did some research and went with fluoxetine. He put me on the highest dose (which I titrated up to over two weeks). He told me to keep an eye out for mania.
So I started taking them, and it was a week before I noticed anything. Within a fortnight I felt better. It wasn't mania levels of happiness, just normal. Like, I was happy. I had more self confidence, and most importantly I got through my days without even the slightest thought of suicide.
That lasted for a month. I thought it was over, finally. I thought I'd finally be able to get my screwed up life back together and do something meaningful. But no, that would be too easy. Steadily my mood began to drop, and now four months later I'm back to where I started, but this time it's worse. Not because I feel lower then I ever have, but because I had a taste of what it was like to feel normal. Until then I had no memory of what it was like to feel normal because this all started so young.
I just can't do it. I've been through worse but I don't think this is ever going to change. I could try other medication but I'm fed up of fighting. I just want to be at peace, and if there is a God he's clearly ensuring that I can't. I just want to be normal. Instead I'm a nearly 20 year old depressed schizophrenic, with no job, no friends, no parter, living on benefits and with zero hopes for the future. I'm the definition of a wasted life and I can't take it anymore. I give up. I fucking give up living my pointless tortured existence. I've known nothing but misery my entire life. What's the point. What's the point of continuing? Nothing will ever change, ever, and I'm tired of waiting for change. Yet... it's still so hard to go. Even in death there is no ease and I'll have to suffer even more pain to finally find peace.
In the words of Emilie Autumn:
So I started taking them, and it was a week before I noticed anything. Within a fortnight I felt better. It wasn't mania levels of happiness, just normal. Like, I was happy. I had more self confidence, and most importantly I got through my days without even the slightest thought of suicide.
That lasted for a month. I thought it was over, finally. I thought I'd finally be able to get my screwed up life back together and do something meaningful. But no, that would be too easy. Steadily my mood began to drop, and now four months later I'm back to where I started, but this time it's worse. Not because I feel lower then I ever have, but because I had a taste of what it was like to feel normal. Until then I had no memory of what it was like to feel normal because this all started so young.
I just can't do it. I've been through worse but I don't think this is ever going to change. I could try other medication but I'm fed up of fighting. I just want to be at peace, and if there is a God he's clearly ensuring that I can't. I just want to be normal. Instead I'm a nearly 20 year old depressed schizophrenic, with no job, no friends, no parter, living on benefits and with zero hopes for the future. I'm the definition of a wasted life and I can't take it anymore. I give up. I fucking give up living my pointless tortured existence. I've known nothing but misery my entire life. What's the point. What's the point of continuing? Nothing will ever change, ever, and I'm tired of waiting for change. Yet... it's still so hard to go. Even in death there is no ease and I'll have to suffer even more pain to finally find peace.
In the words of Emilie Autumn:
