I tried to see a psychiatrist to start the diagnosis process about a year ago. The closest one that my insurance would cover is over an hour form my house. I went to see him and after talking to him for about 30-45 minutes he wrote me up a prescription for Lexapro and sent me back home, telling me to connect with an affiliated therapy program where I live. The place can't seem to keep good help... I'm on my third therapist already, and every time I see someone new I end up having to start over. It's like taking 2 steps forward and 20 back. I only see the actual psychiatrist once every other month to make sure my meds are still doing what they're intended to do, you know, make me lethargic, prone to yawning fits, and if all goes well, delayed ejaculation...
I feel like I'm further from a diagnosis than when I started my quest. Meanwhile, life goes on. I've been forced to cope with the way that I am for so long that the small town pseudo-therapists can hardly tell that there's anything wrong with me. I don't even know what to talk about with them any more. I can't seem to connect with them at all. I feel like they're just looking at me as job security, and possibly a welcome break from all of the weeping and gnashing of teeth they have to deal with from their other "patients."
I always thought that having a name for the condition that makes me me would help me cope, but lately I've come to believe that it wouldn't change a thing for me. No matter what, I still have to function. I have no choice. My wife and son need me. I have to stay in control. I'd love to just go home and sleep this off, for however many years it may take, but I have to pay the bills.
At one point, before I finally found out what was making me so physically ill, my wife hinted that she would be willing to go back into the Army. At first I breathed a sigh of relief, but then the guilt set in. Just to know that I had become so mentally and physically useless that she would have to take over the responsibility of caring for us broke my heart.
It's been several months since then. I finally found out that I was sick because of an allergy that had popped up a few years back. I've been in better spirits since I haven't been waking up with last night's dinner, and of course all of the stomach acid that was supposed to be helping me digest it, in my sinus cavities. I've almost come to terms with the fact that my therapy sessions' only benefit is a shorter work day once a week. I was even able to convince my wife that we may be able to function without having to resort to such drastic measures. But I'm still so tired - physically and mentally drained.
Do I have AS? Pfft, I have no idea. That being considered I don't know that I even belong here. I feel like a spectator, a voyeur of sorts, a wannabe. I almost wish I had AS so I could share, commiserate, or connect with like-minded people, and maybe even belong, but since there's no definitive at home "pee on a stick" test I think it's time I finally close this FireFox tab.
I wish you all the very best.
-The flailing failure.
_________________
"What if there were no hypothetical questions?"
- George Carlin
07 Jul 2009, 11:21 am
) I'm sorry you've had such a rough time. Three therapists in a year is a LOT of disruption- no wonder you're feeling like you're going backwards as far as therapy is concerned.
