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It stopped working (trigger)



Took 50mg of seroquel last night because I felt like 25 mg wasn't enough the night before. This got me into feeling side effects and paradoxically my depression got worse. I'm so frustrated. I thought I was better and then it goes downhill again. Some day I'll learn there are no magic bullets against depression.

My thoughts are noisy and disorganized. I try to figure stuff out but my brain changes the channel every 20 seconds or so. There are also the intrusive thoughts. Reality seems to have a flange pedal on it.

It started when something just occurred to me which is that I kind of regret seeking help in the first place. At the time when I was suicidal, I naively went to a psychologist cause I thought that's what you do for bad thoughts in the same sense that you go to the dentist for a toothache and the ER when you need stitches. At the time I was Christian and scared of suicide sending me to even worse suffering in Hell.

Since then my eschatological views have become markedly more naturalist but now my reason for living is based more on empathy for the people who have helped me. Nonetheless, the suffering inside has increased if it has changed at all. What therapy & medication have done for me is increase my ability to carry on trying to be productive even though I'd rather sink my life savings into hard drugs and inject them until my heart explodes.

At the end of the day, week, or year, the pain outweighs any intrinsic rewards of life. From a purely selfish viewpoint I'd rather be dead. If I had done it as a teen, it would have been understandable. Now I'm an adult and such an indulgence would be more pathetic than anything else. By seeking help & getting talked out of suicide I missed the opportunity to exit at the time when the irresponsibility of such an act was least.

The confounding factor is that I'll probably feel the opposite way tomorrow, just as I did yesterday. Except I am tired of being so careful. I want to quit walking on eggshells around my symptoms for fear of my bad impulses finally taking over.

I wonder if my loved ones would understand, if they knew I'm dragging myself through life out of a sense of obligation. Probably not. Chances are they are fighting the same battle too except don't see any use in whining about it. I should find a better use for this energy.


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