Feeling Really Low


Maybe it’s the fact that I’m tapering my Effexor. Maybe it’s because my roommate has been in the hospital for over a month and I’m living alone. But I am really not about my life right now.

I don’t want to die. I have future goals, and I want to do something meaningful before I shuffle off this mortal coil. (Why is depressed Sarah so fucking unbearable?) But I have few attachments to my current life.

Basically, if reincarnation was real, and I could take my sister and my cat with me, I’d be out of here.

I am growing increasingly resentful towards my roommate (despite the fact that it’s mostly unwarranted), and I am realizing I don’t really have anybody else. I have other friends, but nobody who would notice if I just stopped existing. My family would notice, but they’re more of a source of pain than they are a comfort. My sister is the exception, but she’s my baby sister, so I can’t bring myself to lean on her for support.

I keep packing a bag for the hospital, but I can’t bring myself to leave my cat and surrender control over my environment. I know that’s a much better option than dying, but my anxiety about death will probably keep me alive until this passes, if it ever does. So I take my chances at home.

Jenn used to care about me. I have reached out to her, despite the fact that she abandoned me in a horribly cruel way. I don’t have any better options. But she has ignored me too, so that’s cool.

I don’t know what the point of this is, but I hope you enjoy it. Hurray.


February 22, 2017

TW: Depression, Suicide

Living is very difficult right now. My roommate is still in the hospital, and will now be there for AT LEAST 5 weeks total. I have an unbelievable amount of rage towards her, some of which is probably justified, and some of which is not.

Apparently I’ve been doing much worse than I thought. I e-mailed my counselor last night, saying I didn’t want to live anymore but that I would keep myself safe. I said I wasn’t requesting an appointment; I was merely seeking her guidance on which resources to access. She responded today asking if I was available for an appointment at 12:30. When I went in, she seemed more concerned than I had anticipated. She seemed especially worried about the episode of Hypomania that I had this morning. I have experienced milder hypomanic feelings in the past, but they were never severe enough to mention to my anyone. My counselor asked a lot of questions about this episode, and insisted that I tell my GP. Later, we discussed strategies for staying safe, including visiting the hospital if necessary. At one point during the appointment, my counselor asked if I thought I needed to go to the hospital “right now”. It was incredibly sobering. Of course, I declined this ever-so-inviting offer. Afterwards, she spoke with a receptionist at the Student Wellness Centre to ensure I would get an appointment with my GP tomorrow.

I had a great day outside of my appointment. I went to the gym, socialized, and went shopping. But still, I find myself wanting to die and feeling very agitated & angry about the situation with my roommate.

I have many more thoughts about all this, but the Ativan I took earlier is interfering with my ability to think. So I will go to sleep and update my blog soon. Again, I want to stress the fact that I am safe, thanks to my constant fear of death and some hope for a future that sucks less.

I hope everyone is well.


I need a new living situation

I am currently on day 2 of tapering my meds, so I could very likely be overreacting right now. But I can’t deal with my roommate anymore, and this has been a common theme lately, to the point where I think I need to not live with her anymore.

Her mental health is a large problem, as is mine. The difference is, she seems to really enjoy the attention that comes from being sick, and doesn’t seem to be trying too hard to get better. And I am working hard every day to improve my health and my life. So in that regard, she’s a very negative influence in my life.

I honestly can’t tell if what happened today is that bad, but I feel really angry and upset. She’s on a day pass from the hospital she doesn’t need to be in, so she went to the gym with our mutual friend Lizz, they came back here, and now they’re going to the mall. They are both friends of mine and were in the same room as me discussing these plans while I sat on my laptop in sweatpants clearly not busy, and they didn’t invite me to join them. That seems petty as fuck, but even if I didn’t want somebody to join me in a similar situation, I would invite them just because it’s good fucking manners. I’ve told both of them that I’m having a rough time right now, but nobody asks how I’m doing, nobody thinks I might need to get out of the house. My roommate is the one being dramatic, but somehow she ends up with all the friends. I’m so over it.

I need to get out of this house. I need to get out of this school. I need to go somewhere where I am valued as a human being.


Switching Meds

I have been on antidepressants since I was 16 years old. My doctor at that time didn’t know whether I had GAD or OCD (plot twist: it’s both) so she put me on Zoloft, a medication used to treat both disorders.

Years later, I became very depressed, and the Zoloft wasn’t doing enough in that regard. At one point, I was on 250mg daily (the maximum dose is 200). During my second stay in the Day Hospital program, the psychiatrist switched me onto Effexor XR. I found the Effexor to be much more helpful with depression, but slightly less helpful with anxiety. But I would choose anxiety over depression any day, so that was a step in the right direction.

After I recovered from my eating disorder, I began feeling stuck. I had been eating properly for months; I was exercising; I was receiving individual and group counselling. I was doing all the right things, and while I felt much better than before, I wasn’t quite happy. My doctor and I discussed changing my medication, and first we tried adding things to supplement my Effexor. I began taking a small amount of Wellbutrin. At one point, I was on Lyrica for anxiety. I now take Seroquel at night. But I’m still not happy.

I have been wanting a bigger change for months now. I have brought it up multiple times with my doctor and my psychiatrist, only to be told it “wasn’t a good time” to make such a change. It was the middle of the school year, then it was Summer and I had a full-time job, then I was doing poorly and (correctly) wasn’t trusted to keep myself safe, then apparently things were “going well” and it would be a bad idea to rock the boat. Through most of this time, I was eating well, exercising regularly, and engaging in regular therapy. I was working SO hard to do whatever I could to improve my mood. But it wasn’t enough. I still felt shitty.

Finally, I felt semi-comfortable complaining to my doctor, and said I wanted to make this change over reading week when I wouldn’t need to worry about unpleasant symptoms interfering with school. My doctor surprisingly agreed, and consulted my psychiatrist to come up with a plan.

Today is day 1 of this transition. First, I need to slowly taper my Effexor, so I took 225mg today instead of 262.5. I will stay at this dose until I see my doctor next Tuesday, and we will go from there. Apparently, my psychiatrist has two ideas for what I can switch to. I don’t know what they are yet, but psychiatry is essentially reaching into a bag of pills and saying “I don’t know, try this one?”, so I don’t really care. Once my Effexor dose is a little lower, I can begin cross-titrating with the other medication. This is what I did when I switched from Zoloft- it involves slowly increasing the dose of the new drug while decreasing the dose of the other. It’s a complicated process, so usually a psychiatrist comes up with a specific schedule for dose changes.

I am pretty scared that this will be difficult. More likely than not, I will experience unpleasant side effects. But I don’t want to live the rest of my life at my current level of happiness. So if there’s a chance I could feel better on a different medication, I’m going to find out whether I do. I thought my roommate’s hospital stint would long be over by now and I would have someone to hang out with during this process, but whatever. I am growing increasingly resentful towards her, but that’s a whole other issue.

On the other hand, I am very excited about the prospect of feeling better. Medication changes always give me hope that things will improve. And I would really, really like that.

That’s all the information I have for now, but I will definitely update once things get going. I hope everyone is well!


Not a Real Post


As the title suggests, this isn’t a real post. This is me, lying in bed, feeling desperately alone and wanting to reach into the internet and pull out human connection. I’ve been incredibly depressed lately, and it only gets worse by the day. There’s no hope that a new pill or exercise regimen will make this go away, because my life is the problem. I have nobody and that makes me feel horribly alone and extremely anxious. I don’t want to live this life anymore. I miss last year, when I had somebody and I was happy. I am so far from happy. There are so many things I want to accomplish in my life, but I don’t want to continue living like this until I’m in a position where I can do that. Please don’t worry; I’m too terrified of death and worried about my cat to do anything. All I’m doing is wishing.


Today’s Crisis: Part 2


Yesterday, I had a lot of really strong feelings and not a lot of ability to make sense of them. Instead of paying attention in my lectures today, I spent my time in deep introspection, and I gained some important (not algebra-related) insights.

I figured out why I am so upset about my best friend being in the hospital and why I am so angry with her. It is because I have abandonment issues, and an intolerance to unpredictability. 5 months ago, my girlfriend suddenly broke up with me and cut off all communication between us, which was both unpredictable as fuck and textbook abandonment. 3 weeks ago, my best friend fell into a major depressive episode and thus stopped holding up her end of our friendship. Then she was hospitalized and thus isn’t even being my roommate right now. All of this was unpredictable and out of my control and I was left all alone.

Now, of course you can’t blame somebody for getting sick and having larger priorities than being your friend. But you can blame them for dramatizing their illness and not trying to get better. I feel like a friendship is an implicit agreement to not dip out of nowhere without a good reason. And I don’t think she has a reason right now.

Again, I know how much of a piece of shit I’m being. But I can’t make myself believe something different. I don’t think education about mental illness would change my opinion, because I have very extensive first-hand knowledge on the subject. I just know this person very well, and this is the conclusion I am reaching based on her words and actions.

Here’s where I will sound like an even bigger piece of shit (again). My roommate told me she has started trauma therapy for something she has never told anybody. Later, she implied that it was some sort of sexual assault or rape. And I don’t believe her.

I would be hating me if I was reading this too. I hate myself as I write it. As a rule, I always believe survivors. I know that their are fewer false allegations of sexual assault and rape than of most other crimes. I know that it’s extremely difficult to come forward as a survivor of rape or sexual assault, and that these disclosures are often met with heavy skepticism. I know these things. I hate the people who don’t believe these types of allegations. But again, having known this person for 3 and a half years, I find it very hard to believe.

Many of our previous conversations do not make sense now. She used to tell me that her psychiatrist suspected she had PTSD, but she had never been through any trauma. It was later determined that she experienced complex trauma (trauma that occurs over a period of time as opposed to a single incident) when she lost her stepmom to cancer. We had conversations about how that surprised her, because she had assumed PTSD only impacted soldiers and survivors of rape. She then spoke of her complex trauma regularly and casually. She mentioned having nightmares about her stepmom. She claimed to be triggered in hospitals (though that didn’t seem to apply whenever she was admitted). She never mentioned anything about a sexual assault. Once, she found out her previous priest was later convicted of child molestation, and she was worried that he had assaulted her and she had repressed the memory. She grilled her parents about it until they assured her that she had never been alone with him. She said the incident felt possible, because it would help to explain her PTSD. She has been extremely open about her mental illnesses and the past experiences that contribute to them. Yet she apparently hid this one thing. I am completely aware that a survivor of such a horrible trauma might not want to mention it, but why would she start related conversations only to lie? She has started saying she has 2 recurring nightmares; I assume she means 1 for each trauma. But she never said that before. It was always about her step mom. And in casual conversation yesterday, she implied that this new trauma was sexual in nature. It seems weird to hide something like that so well for years, tell someone for the first time for an unknown reason, then be able to talk about it casually a couple weeks later. I have not experienced rape or sexual assault, so maybe this is a normal pattern of behaviour, but it makes absolutely no sense to me. All these things taken together, along with my recent assessment that she actively seeks attention) make me skeptical of her claim.

But obviously, we can’t be friends anymore. Either she’s telling the truth, and she shouldn’t stay friends with an asshole who doesn’t believe her, or she’s lying, and I shouldn’t stay friends with someone who would lie about a rape for attention. Those are the only 2 possibilities, unless my belief changes. But I don’t know how that could happen. I certainly can’t ask her to explain our previous conversations. She likely wouldn’t react well to my questioning her story. So one of us is a shit person, and I will never know which one.

But what do I do now? I have nobody. And we live together. And we’re in the same tiny math department, so I would see her everywhere if we were to stop being friends before graduation. And everybody would take her side (I know I would, as a hypothetical mutual friend), so the friends/acquaintances I’ve made through her would be gone.

So I have figured out my thoughts and feelings on this matter, but I have zero solutions. I’ll just continue having no friends and being a reprehensible person.


Today’s Crisis

I am low-key (high-key) freaking the fuck out, as I have been for around 3 weeks now. I’m sorry for unleashing all this negativity on the internet, but you don’t have to read it, so I think it isn’t my fault. Probably.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but my roommate/ best friend has been in the hospital for 2 weeks now. She started being super depressed 3 weeks ago, so that’s when the whole ordeal really started. I found out today she might be in the hospital for 4 weeks. I cannot fucking do this anymore.

I am having such a hard time, every single day, and I have no support. I didn’t realize until now that she was my support. And now I have no one. So I suck it the fuck up and rally every single day and remain the strong one because I don’t have a fucking choice. And she has a boyfriend and a million friends and her family and everybody in the whole damn world to support her, and it’s like she isn’t even trying.

I know that’s a horrible thing to say that somebody with a mental illness isn’t trying. And I don’t know if it’s just too terrible to think she’s really suffering this much, so I make myself believe it isn’t true, but it really fucking feels like she’s doing a lot of this for attention. Again, I know I am a piece of shit. But I can’t stop feeling this way. And I suffer from severe mental illness myself, so it’s not like I don’t understand depression. But I don’t see why she needs to self-harm in obvious places. I don’t see why she needs to tell everybody and their cat that she’s in the hospital. I don’t fucking know.

Now is where I become an even bigger piece of shit. She says she’s doing trauma therapy for a trauma she has never talked about before, and I don’t believe that it happened.

I realize how terrible I sound. I’m reading these words too. But for years, she has insisted that her only trauma was her step-mom dying of cancer. She was asked by doctors for years if anything like this new trauma had happened. And I know it makes sense to not want to talk about a traumatic experience, but we had multiple conversations about this. And why would she bring it up only to lie about it, if it really did happen? How could she seem so casual about it? I feel so strongly that she made this up recently for attention.

I am now re-evaluating everything that has happened since we became friends. And when I think about it, she does seem like an attention-seeker. She talks about having Bulimia with anybody who will listen 24/7. She tells everybody in existence when she’s having a hard time. She will casually talk about killing herself for a week. I’m not 100% convinced that this new analysis is correct; but it feels possible. Again, I know I’m a piece of garbage. But I know what it’s like to experience severe mental illness, and I still feel this way.

If this is the case, we can’t be friends anymore. I can no longer be friends with my roommate, my only support, and my friend of 3 and a half years. I have truly and honestly been fighting everyday to get better. And she seems very content to stay sick and reap all the attention that goes along with that. And that will hinder my efforts to improve my own health. But if I have to do that, then I really have nobody, and then my brain starts going to really dark places.

I don’t know whether these thoughts are true, some defense mechanism, or just me being a worthless excuse for a human, but they’re my thoughts. They’re thoughts I’m too ashamed to mention even to my therapist. I hate her and I hate myself simultaneously. Everybody is selfish. Everybody is a bad person. Everybody hurts people around them. I don’t know. Life has just been so hard lately.

The Ativan I took a while ago is really starting to hit me now, so I don’t know if any of this makes sense, and I definitely need to stop writing. I just needed to get that out there.