The following blog post includes discussion of my lived experience with mental illness. Continue reading at your discretion- KW

Writing is really difficult right now. Honestly, doing anything that brings me joy is really difficult right now.  I haven’t put on a full face of makeup since Valentine’s Day, even though every night I tell myself I will set aside the time to do it before work. I used to love taking the time to make myself look beautiful. It could always brighten my mood, even when I felt completely out of control. The thought of it is exhausting.  Right now, I consider washing my hair in the evening, laying out an outfit for the next day, and maybe making myself a sandwich or something to bring to work an achievement.

I had a brief, amazing window of time where I was full of energy, and motivation, and hope and excitement. I did everything I could to take advantage. I did the 3 months worth of dirty laundry piled up in my room. I started exercising again, and tried to be more conscious of what I ate. But quickly, all those good feelings were just…gone. This isn’t a completely new phenomenon (I’m quite familiar with bursts of energy followed by depressive stretches) but it has rarely been this drastic.

I’m worried I’m becoming too tolerant of my medication. I don’t want to raise the dosage, because it’s like saying I will never be able to live normally without it. I’ll have to keep raising it and raising it until there’s no higher dosage and I’m royally fucked. Alternatively, I’ll have to try a new medication, and suffer the withdrawals of my current antidepressant. I was temporarily out of my medication recently, and I had textbook  symptoms: dizziness, dissociation, blurred vision, sensory disturbances, and anxiety. I would not wish this upon anyone.

People who glamorize mental illness don’t understand what it’s like to live like this. Fuck, I don’t even really understand what it’s like to live like this since it seems like my familiar symptoms are melting away and making room for new, unpleasant ones. I don’t want to self-diagnose (I have a therapist whom I love and whose opinion I trust), but I find myself checking symptoms online during stolen moments at work. I feel like there’s something else going on with me that isn’t being treated, or hasn’t come to light yet. It’s certainly something to talk to my doctor about.

At any rate, thank you all for reading this. I hope you are doing well, and if you aren’t right now, that you’re doing better soon.

All my love,

Katherine Wheel.

Author: Katherine Wheel

Katherine is a twenty-something year old writer from Greater Boston who is just trying to navigate adulthood. When she isn't writing, she enjoys going to concerts, painting, and spending time with her loved ones.

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