Gimme my meds!
It’s been about four years since I quit my meds (fluvoxamine) and not once during those four years did I seriously consider taking them again. Until now. For the past six months or so I’ve been having bouts of depression again. Well, that sounds really dramatic. Let’s just say that before these past few months, I wasn’t sending Rob text messages like this one:
I feel like shit. I make your life impossible and I’m just stuck. I can’t do anything and I don’t know what to do anymore. I love you so much but I don’t even really deserve you.
This didn’t really come out of nowhere. In fact it was to do with a 5000 euro gas bill (!) we received Wednesday. We normally use about 1700 m³ (cubic metres) of gas per year. Our gas company would like to have us believe that in the past year, we’ve used 8600 m³, which is just preposterous. At least they’re knocking half of it off because their estimate was way off. According to our meter we’ve used 4000 m³, which is still way too much. This meter is 22 years old so that’s probably where the problem lies, but there’s no way to prove it. So in addition to paying about 2500 euros for the past year, we will also have to pay about 300-400 euros a month on advances, instead of the usual 120 euros. We’ll get most of it back next year when our gas use has gone back to normal, but that won’t help us the coming year. Goodbye comfortable living.
Rob was angry, and I blamed myself, because I moved in with Rob last year so that’s the only reasonable explanation for this dramatic increase in gas use. It’s impossible, of course, because no one person can cause a 500% increase. But try proving that to the gas company. We’re going to write them a letter, at least demanding a new gas meter, and we’ll also include the last three annual bills, proving that the average gas use per year is in fact about 1700 m³. We’re not counting on anything, though. Rob’s going to cancel his dentist appointment, we won’t be going to any concerts anymore and we certainly won’t be redoing the kitchen as planned.
In addition to that major setback, I haven’t been doing very well on life in general. I sent an application form to the school I really wanted to go to about a month or two ago, but they didn’t get back to me and now I don’t care so much anymore. That’s another year gone to waste, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should. Ergo, I WANT MY MEDS. I need some help, and everyone, Rob especially, is doing all they can but it’s just not enough. I keep spiraling up and down, down mostly, and it’s so frustrating. What’s even more frustrating is that I can’t even call my GP because I’m too scared to even go near a phone most of the time, plus I’ve never seen him before.
Today has been a pretty good day, good enough for me to be able to make a phone call to a store in my parents’ hometown, where we’ll be going tomorrow, to ask them to hold back an outdoor bench we want (and will be paying for entirely with coupons), but calling my GP is still one step too far. I plan to get drunk with Rob and my parents tomorrow and forget about everything for a while. No meds can beat alcohol. And buying pretty new things helps too.
Nanda
Aw I’m sorry you feel like that right now. Maybe those negative feelings will go away soon? I’ve used anti-depressiva since I were 12 years old (I’m 18 now), and I realised it doesn’t help at all. I hope you’ll figure out what to do, and I hope those meds will work for you.