Saturday, 1:30 AM
Continuing on the chronotherapy experiment…
Thus ends the first sleep. It was supposed to be 7 hours but apparently, that was not to be. I went to bed at 6:oo PM as directed, but sleep would not come. I didn’t sleep any sleep medication as I felt that after 36 hours I would actually fall asleep on my own. Ah, have I learned nothing about my brain!?…
Friday, 5:30 PM
Continuing on the chronotherapy experiment and just about to set down for my first sleep in 36 hours. I’m exhausted and tired and pretty much shocked that I survived 36 hours awake. Really, I don’t recommend it.
I’ve got increasing anxiety that when I actually do lay down in 30 minutes I won’t sleep. And then I’m scared that I won’t wake up again at 1:00 AM like I’m supposed to. I suppose if there’s nothing to worry about I’ll make sure there’s something to worry about. Sleep and stress. They are so tightly knit…
Friday, 12:45 PM
Continuing on the chronotherapy experiment. Feeling much better. Almost felt like I was going to pass out a few times around 10 AM but I seem to have picked up a second, or third, or sixty-fourth wind or something.
The panic is gone and the anxiety has diminished. My friend is awake again after he napped off and on for 2.5 hours. He’s allowed to nap, I’m not.
I think I’ll be able to make it to 6:00 PM but I wish it would hurry up and get here already. This has been the longest day, ever…
Friday, 9:00 AM
I’m still alive and ticking on the chronotherapy experiment. Still pretty tired. Dizzy. Nauseous. Feverish. Coffee’d. But still going. My friend is still here but he’s dozing in and out. It’s mostly Dexter keeping me company at the moment.
I had some moments of pretty high anxiety and panic but as long as I sit still and focus on the TV, the computer or my iPhone it seems to be OK. Quietly. The word of the moment.
I think I can stay awake until 6:00 PM. We’ll see. My brain is pretty scrambled…
I’m still alive and ticking on the chronotherapy experiment. Pretty tired. Dizzy. Nauseous. Coffee’d. But still going. My friend is keeping me company and on-track. It’s early days, but so far so good…
Today I read about a new therapy known as Triple Chronotherapy. Yes, it’s a big fancy word. Chronotherapy. Quite frankly, it sounds made up.
But it isn’t.
Chronotherapy is a combination of light therapy, prolonged wakefulness and sleep phase advance. It aims to reset the circadian rhythm to treat depression.
Pretty much weekly I get messages from people who are desperate to help a loved one with a mental illness. I hear versions of this story over and over, my child/parent/sibling/friend/spouse is sick and won’t get help for their mental illness. They say they would rather be in jail than be on medication for their mental illness. They can’t take care of themselves and they are going to end up on the street. Their behavior is destroying our family/relationship. Their behavior is destroying them.
Believe me, I get it. I really, really do. And sometimes you have to except that not everyone with a mental illness will get help. Sometimes you have to say goodbye to a person with a mental illness.
When I tell people to see a mental health professional, I recommend they get someone who specializes in whatever mental illness the person has. This is just common sense. You don’t go to a neurologist when your foot hurts.
I also tell people to get a therapist who specializes in their disorder. Again, this makes sense. Honestly, if your therapist is used to hearing the woes of the Real Housewives of Some Rich Place then they may not be the best choice for a person with major depressive disorder.
I tell people to get a therapist for their mental illness because psychiatrists don’t do psychotherapy.
I am very medication-reactive. Not so much with the positive effects, but I can almost guarantee you I’ll get all the side effects.I get every side effect for antidepressants, every side effect for antipsychotics and every side effect for pretty much anything else.
And sometimes, just for good measure, I’ll get side effects that doctors say “aren’t possible”. They are my favorite. And those overractions are often on the lowest known effective dose of the medication.
But if you add a low dose, lower than thought effective, of an antipsychotic, can this be helpful?
I get emails and messages now and then from people asking what to do about their mentally ill loved one. They want to convince their loved one to get help for a mental illness.
These people are in the unenviable position of watching someone they love be sick. And the unfortunate thing about mental illness is that when you confront it, it doesn’t like it very much.
It’s kind of a tall order.
And the thoughts I have on the matter don’t really make the issue sparkle either. Because let’s face it, the person either listens to you or they don’t, and really, they have the right to do either one. Here’s a bit of reality on convincing a loved one to get help for a mental illness.
And for the record, even if you don’t immediately succeed, many of us first hear about our mental illness from a friend, but sometimes that takes a while to sink in.
Here at BurbleCo I try to relate matters in a very even-handed, logical and frank way. I attempt to deliver my opinions and facts as just that, opinions and facts. I try not to inflame groups with whom I vehamently disagree. I try to respect everyone’s point of view as I wish to have mine respected. I short, I try to act like grown-up. A kind, caring, reasonable grown-up.
Well. Fuck. That. Shit.
I have written thousands and thousands of words in this blog and elsewhere about how much I hate medication.
I hate it in the car, I hate it on a train, I hate on a boat, I hate it in the rain.
I hate it in the snow, I hate it in the sun, I hate it standing still, I hate it on the run.
I hate it before breakfast, I hate it after lunch, I hate it in the morning, I hate it during brunch.
And while I could fill an entire blog with all the ways I hate psych meds, I still, take them, everyday.
Weird you say?
(Well, yes. But no more so than the disease it treats.)
Because no matter how much I might hate psych meds, medication non-compliance kills.
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