*Good News* From The Trenches
*Good News* From The Trenches
I find myself avoiding mental/behavioral health support groups and forums because rarely are there reports of positive developments. Seeing as I've made tremendous progress this year, it's time I shared the good news. Maybe this will encourage someone.
Yesterday, I officially graduated to monthly psychiatry appointments!
I'm sorry this is long, but here's my story:
I had a recurrence of suicidal depression in April of last year. My plan was a tad elaborate, timing wise, so I had many months to let my depression spiral out of control. I was supposed to stay clean and sober in the interest of appearances, but that lasted about a month. Add my favorite hard drugs to the mix, and I crashed and burned real fast.
If it weren't for the waiting period for firearms, I might not be here. Within that time, my plan was discovered (that'd be the long version), and I was hospitalized just as soon as I was located, three days before Christmas.
I went into the hospital in the worst shape I have ever been. I had to come down off a massive amount of meth. I had no fight in me whatsoever; I didn't hardly talk for days (and boy am I a gabber, if you hadn't noticed), just sat and stared at the wall.
The psych there was a smart dude. He put me on Wellbutrin, and gradually but steadily, I got better. After 10 days (On New Year's Day, fittingly), I left with actual feelings of encouragement about the prospect of rehabilitating. I even thought maybe, someday, I might stop dreaming about killing myself.
I attended the IOP and did well. I saw a therapist thereafter, and did well. I left the hospital in my usual suicide's-not-out-just-postponed-indefinitely mode. Gradually, that has morphed into I'm-not-thinking-about-suicide-at-all mode, which I haven't seen in a long time.
My psych had me coming in every week for a good while. Then, I graduated to biweekly. Now it's monthly! I'm doing better now than I ever have in my whole life; that is doubtless!
I'm getting along with my family. I'm stepping up to the plate with a declining grandparent, and I feel good about that. I even do the cooking around here, which is a feat for me! I haven't returned to working, but I'm volunteering when I can (I am so indebted to my family for all of their support, in every possible capacity.). I've stayed almost entirely clean and sober (smoked pot a few times ), which makes this recovery period my new record! And, I'm starting to make real friends, not drug buddies.
It's been a slow process, but with mercifully little recidivism. My journal entries prove that my mindset has been changing. A few months ago, I was writing how I was beginning to resent responsibilities because they were gonna keep me from being able to die when I might want. Lately, I write about respite and storms weathered.
Yesterday, I officially graduated to monthly psychiatry appointments!
I'm sorry this is long, but here's my story:
I had a recurrence of suicidal depression in April of last year. My plan was a tad elaborate, timing wise, so I had many months to let my depression spiral out of control. I was supposed to stay clean and sober in the interest of appearances, but that lasted about a month. Add my favorite hard drugs to the mix, and I crashed and burned real fast.
If it weren't for the waiting period for firearms, I might not be here. Within that time, my plan was discovered (that'd be the long version), and I was hospitalized just as soon as I was located, three days before Christmas.
I went into the hospital in the worst shape I have ever been. I had to come down off a massive amount of meth. I had no fight in me whatsoever; I didn't hardly talk for days (and boy am I a gabber, if you hadn't noticed), just sat and stared at the wall.
The psych there was a smart dude. He put me on Wellbutrin, and gradually but steadily, I got better. After 10 days (On New Year's Day, fittingly), I left with actual feelings of encouragement about the prospect of rehabilitating. I even thought maybe, someday, I might stop dreaming about killing myself.
I attended the IOP and did well. I saw a therapist thereafter, and did well. I left the hospital in my usual suicide's-not-out-just-postponed-indefinitely mode. Gradually, that has morphed into I'm-not-thinking-about-suicide-at-all mode, which I haven't seen in a long time.
My psych had me coming in every week for a good while. Then, I graduated to biweekly. Now it's monthly! I'm doing better now than I ever have in my whole life; that is doubtless!
I'm getting along with my family. I'm stepping up to the plate with a declining grandparent, and I feel good about that. I even do the cooking around here, which is a feat for me! I haven't returned to working, but I'm volunteering when I can (I am so indebted to my family for all of their support, in every possible capacity.). I've stayed almost entirely clean and sober (smoked pot a few times ), which makes this recovery period my new record! And, I'm starting to make real friends, not drug buddies.
It's been a slow process, but with mercifully little recidivism. My journal entries prove that my mindset has been changing. A few months ago, I was writing how I was beginning to resent responsibilities because they were gonna keep me from being able to die when I might want. Lately, I write about respite and storms weathered.
It's been a slow process, but with mercifully little recidivism. My journal entries prove that my mindset has been changing. A few months ago, I was writing how I was beginning to resent responsibilities because they were gonna keep me from being able to die when I might want.
Congratulations on your progress. Keep it movin
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