WordPress, thou art my confession box, as it were, or one of many, for the internet’s good like that. But this is the place where I talk most frankly about mental health, and I’ve certainly come to the complete realisation today that there is no way that I can be on prednisone/in this current mental state without some kind of corresponding medication for my head. Three days back on my highest dose of prednisone, three days of on-and-off mental trauma. It really can’t be coincidence.
Spending half an hour lying on the bathroom floor, alternating between foetal position and sobbing and spread eagled, staring at the ceiling… that’s not the way evenings are supposed to go. I shouldn’t be telling myself ‘I don’t want to die’ over and over until I’m hysterical. I’m certainly not suicidal, it’s quite the opposite. I’m terrified of dying before I’ve proven myself. I’m terrified of something going wrong with my disease or my head or my medication and not being able to be all that I hypothetically know I can be, at least not when I’m in the throes of mental anguish.
I think I’m reacting far too much to this medication/situation for it just to be a psychosomatic thing. But regardless of what’s caused it, I need to get it to stop. As long as I can hold out the next couple of days, until I see my GP, it might all be okay.
And this was just one of those things that I needed to get out of my system. Much like so many things, but at least typing out feelings is actually able to be done. Getting rid of poisonous synapses and intestines… that’s what we’re working on.