#<- which my doctor told me to do since the fluoxetine had me waking up shaky

[snowysobsessions]

So.

Today is my Rebirthday.

And I have a story to tell.

(Of which the first half is very medical, just a fair warning. If discussion of surgery and related things makes you uncomfortable, don't read the rest of this post.)

One year ago, at about the scheduled 1:30 pm, I had woken up from my anesthetic-induced slumber. But the only thing I could see was the inside of my eyelids, I hadn't regained control of my body just yet.

A voice I vaguely recognized from before going under was calling out to me from somewhere far away, "Wake up! Snowy, wake up! The surgery is over."

And with those last words, the mental weight which I had carried for as long I as could remember was instantly lifted. Despite still being trapped in my own skull, unable to see or feel anything outside, I felt a sudden mental clarity.

Anxiety caused by seemingly nothing? Gone. Depressive, self-deprecating thoughts lingering at the back of my mind? Eliminated. The general physical discomfort which I felt every day of my life? Quashed. I could think without interruption or negative influence.

Despite the drugs I was on my mind felt clear. Perfectly clear. The mental clarity I had gotten from taking Fluoxetine a few years earlier now looked as effective as shining a standard flashlight through thick fog. (Although at the time it very much helped.) Even a year later, this clearness of mind is still with me.

I'd noticed a very metallic taste in my mouth and a soreness of throat, which reminded me "Oh yeah, they said something about putting a tube down my throat, didn't they?" Right away, breathing felt difficult and my chest tight. Not because of anything in my lungs but because my muscles protested moving and my skin felt like it'd been pulled taut. The nurses instructed me to breathe slowly and steadily, which I understood the point of immediately. But I didn't feel scared, I was actually a little excited to be awake.

When I regained more control I'd noticed I was crying, which wasn't unusual. I always cry whenever I pass a certain pain level, even if I cannot feel it because of painkillers. This newfound freedom was so strong that I did not feel sad, panicked, or even hurt. I was able to calmly say to the nurses trying to comfort me that I was only crying because that's just my body's reaction, I actually felt very calm.

After the initial recovery, I was wheeled back to my room. The nurse turned off the lights and told me to sleep for 15-20 minutes to let the rest of the anesthetic wear off. I almost told her I couldn't because I was wide awake. A new chapter in my life had just begun. I was finally free. I could not contain my happiness. There was no way I could sleep now. I could hardly keep my eyes closed as those 15-20 minutes passed by.

On the two hour drive home, I remember I just couldn't stop smiling. My Mom, being very much a mom at this moment, was still very uneasy and worried because I'd just gone through major surgery. But, speaking with a confidence I was not used to, I assured her that everything was going to be okay. In fact I felt better than ever.

I remember I had brought my Switch with me to play Celeste on the drive. On the way back I replayed The Summit, and reaching the top had felt more fulfilling than ever now that I had conquered my tallest mountain.

Now we fast forward to today.

Despite an unrelated, very dark time over last winter, I would say my life has only been improving since that day. Without the crushing weight of gender dysphoria on my back at all times, I've just... felt better. I know. Crazy, right? But it's so much more liberating than I had ever anticipated when I had asked my doctor about the surgery.

I can often just... do things. Things which I've been putting off or avoiding for years, sometimes my whole life. Little to no resistance. I can simply sit down one day and solve a problem that's been bothering me forever. All because my mind is so much clearer. I can see the problem and the solution and immediately put my plan into motion. No more second-guessing myself for months on end. No more "I'll do it later" to things which should be done now.

Social media causing anxiety, depressive thoughts, or anger? I can just log off. I can just unfollow the person who keeps posting things that make me upset. I can even go outside for a little bit, maybe take a walk around the yard if I want to.

I've finally brought fruit and veggies into my diet, and I can't properly express how nice it is to finally eat a meal and feel FULL and SATISFIED. Or to drink the amount of water which I need and not just stay thirsty because I don't want to get up and refill my water bottle. Or not delay getting in the shower or brushing my teeth because then I'd have to look at myself. Or to look at a piece of clothing in a store, or on someone else, and say "I would look good and FEEL good in that."

When I introduce myself to people I do it confidently, as opposed to awkwardly, shyly, or even reluctantly. Which is great because (despite being an introvert) I love meeting people and learning more about them. I feel confident in who I am, which is something I've only just gotten used to. Sometimes it actually startles people a little bit lol.

The list of ways my life has improved is longer than I can put here.

I feel happy being the person that I am.

I feel like I'm living a far healthier life, both mentally and physically.

I have never felt more empowered and free.

Here's to making through the first year of my new life, and many happy, healthy years to come! 💖 🎂 💖

#snowy speaks #long post #text post #rebirthday #queer #transitioning #transgender #surgery #medical #hospital #agender #trans rights #trans pride #pride #celeste game #celeste spoilers

[euargh]

vent post and general blogging

oh gawd, yesterday was stressful. Had to wake up early to go with parents to Hot Topic to pick up my mom’s shirt she wanted me to help her order. Which thankfully she gave me the exact amount to put into my bank because I’m drowning in bills and can’t afford a thirty dollar shirt. (I wear the same things every time I go out.) Anyways, mom is about to start conflict over nothing thinking a woman is trying to steal my dad’s cheese sticks. Dad snaps at her “STOP ALWAYS FUCKING FIGHTING!” which sadly is true because she makes everyone the enemy and randomly starts fights with people, but god, his constant anger all day caused me to want to vomit out bile. He is also a raging angry person. I forgot to take my fluoxetine to be able to handle all this crap a little better. (Speaking of which, I kind of hate my brother-in-law for saying I shouldn’t take that because it has “fluoride“ except if you actually google, it doesn’t have it. PLEASE SHUT UP, JAMES. GOD. I wish I could say that to his face, but I’d rather be on good terms with him. His side of the family are... “those” kind that self-diagnose and are anti-vax. and I hate when he picks on me for my personal problems thinking picking on me will magically make me not do that anymore, which no. All you do is make me uncomfortable.) Anyways, we went to Walmart, that was... a kind of decent okay trip. Except I learned my dad’s knee gave out and suddenly collapsed and he got irritated at me trying to help with offering to buy water. H-E-B next. The last stop. I had to go by myself into the store. Parents dropped me off and parked somewhere. I used the food budget to get last minute Thanksgiving food items. I’m really big on traditions that revolve around food (like Good Friday is fish day and I have fun looking forward to cooking/baking the usual foods we do every year for that day, every birthday I like making sure we have cake and ice cream, New Year’s Eve we get special champagne to drink around midnight, etc.) My year isn’t complete or okay unless there’s a big feast in November and I just love using that as an excuse to cook tons of food. Cooking is a good distraction and helps me forget I exist. PISSED I DIDN’T GET THE FRUIT COCKTAIL FOR THE FRUIT SALAD. but we have the tropical fruit cocktail. OH man, rambling. Oops. I obsess with food and cooking. Fast forward, I’m at H-E-B and it is ABSOLUTELY PACKED with people. I ended up trapped in aisles and kept internally sobbing lmaoooo Then my dad called me angrily on the phone when I was in line and shouted, “HURRY UP!! WE HAVE TO GO!! STOP FUCKING AROUND!!” unfortunately I snapped at him (something I rarely ever do because I always  swallow my rage whenever family members or in-laws are mean to me because nobody cares if they hurt me) I responded with “I CAN’T JUST MAGICALLY CUT TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE HERE TO PAY FOR MY ITEMS AND LEAVE.” Like?? I wasn’t even messing around, I was just trying my best to get around the crowds of people to get last minute items for Thanksgiving. Thankfully my mom told him off and to lay off me. That was nice of her. When we arrived home, she immediately began throwing items around. I had to defuse the situation and say “Look mom, I got you the butter you like.”  My dad went to the doctor. Then I spent two hours cooking dinner for them. Today, my stupid organs woke me up and I had to run to the bathroom where my insides hurt like hell. Heard my mom loudly throwing things around. I was just... why. Then remembered she had her neurologist appointment today. She gets surgery on her back and neck next year in January/February and now I’m nervous as hell. One, for her surgery because despite everything I care a lot for her. Two, because of all the freaking work I’ll have to do cleaning my sis’s former room when I just want to clean MY OWN room. I’m hoping she’ll agree to let me clean it later on since her surgery isn’t until January/February. but she makes groaning noises and gets pissed and starts throwing things. I hate how much of a control freak she is (my dad is also a huge control freak. They both retaliate in shitty ways if I don’t do what they want). Like with demanding I not donate books to this guy downtown that’s trying to bring a bookstore into this ghetto city. (There isn’t any bookstores all and all he’s trying to do is encourage reading. I support his cause.) She’s all “He’s just going to sell them” I’m like “That’s the point. Better than placed into a dumpster.” She said “Good Will accepts books.” I said “They toss out a ton of stuff. Clothes, books, toys. It gets thrown out.” and like they also freaking sell them? Jeez. Anyways, god, fuck you mom and dad for the shit you cause me that I have to put up with every day, I care about you both and will always look out for you guys, but god damn. Jeez. AND fuck everyone else in my family and my in-laws and just everyone else in my life that’s been awful to me. urgh. Anyways, vent post to scream out my angst into the void and to help warm up my typing... crap, and to work on a fanfiction today because I won’t have time tomorrow or the day after and so on. Please excuse how angry I sound. I am usually quiet when I’m pushed over by everybody, but today I’m making myself type.

#vent #blogging #angst #excuse how angry i sound #i just get so fed up of all the crap flung at me so often #it is tiring #i just want to create content #thank god everyone is freaking sleeping right now #i can work on the fanfiction while i actually have some time to myself for once

[floweringpopcat]

nobody told be that SSRIs could make me hypoglycemic

#i am shaking so much right now #gonna eat some peanut butter and maybe a small handful of skittles #one of the pros of my mom being diabetic is that i can check my blood sugar whenever i want #<- which my doctor told me to do since the fluoxetine had me waking up shaky #now i'm shaky in the middle of the day :D #on sertraline #fun #my blood sugar is currently at 63 and while that isn't /that/ low it is considered low and my body knows ot lmao #anyways i'mma go eat sugary things now to bring the number back up #drugs cw #antidepressants #ssri #bry talks

[musicalluna]

hey everyone. so in honor of mental health day, i want to talk to you about my experience with realizing i’ve been depressed over the last 3+ years.

for several years, maybe starting after i got laid off of my first full time job, or maybe just increasingly throughout my twenties, i had on and off periods of depression (the months while i was underemployed were particularly bad) where i was just generally anxious and not generally optimistic about the future. more resigned. i was very stressed about money all the time. la is a horrible place to be if you don't have a job or even if you do and it's not like, millionaire movie star. except i loved la.

when i did finally get a job, i hated my commute. (commuting sucks. how do people commute.) i also hated a lot of the deeply prejudicial and, frankly, illegal discrimination i was seeing at my job. i loved la, but it was also murdering my peace of mind.

i did a good thing and did something about that though and applied for a job in another state where life is cheaper. the move was stressful. from the time i accepted the new job to the time i started the new job, i think was three weeks. no more than a month. i packed in a month, told the roommates i'd been living with for 6 years i was moving in a month, put in my two weeks notice in a month, and then over two days, drove to my new place of residence with my car jammed full of all of my belongings that weren't books (those i mailed ahead).

i found an apartment the first day i was here with a stranger online.

the new place is VERY different culturally from la. pretty much everywhere is lbr. but it's an extremely conservative state with a huge religious population and winter, which i have only dealt with in very small doses up until now.

i don't know whether it was the stress of the change, being alone in a new area, the political climate, being anxious about being a queer person in a conservative space, winter being a thing now, or a perfect storm of all these things, but despite having a job i like pretty well, enough money to live comfortably and have a little left over, and a much nicer place to live, i was struggling.

i also didn't REALIZE i was struggling. i would think "wow today sucks" or "this week sucks" or "i'm so tired" but i didn't see it as a pattern. plus it built over time. things seemed okay overall. i went to work every day. i got to come home and hang out in my own space and do what i wanted and i didn't have to worry about money. i also never really went anywhere that wasn't work or the grocery store once a week (if that).

i was tired a lot (i still am so idk that might just be a thing). i didn't want to go out to run the simplest errands. i had to force myself to get up and go out in my pajamas just to get groceries. eating was a huge chore. a lot of nights i just went to bed hungry.

there was one point almost two years ago where i told a friend i wanted to take some of the vicodin i had just because it would make me feel better in general. they told me at the time that that was a sign i probably needed to talk to a professional, but i was pretty much like, well i WANT to but i won't. and it sort of niggled at me that it was kind of an alarm bell, but i still didn't really do anything about it.

i saw the doctor multiple times over these months. for migraines, for allergies, for a physical. my doctor makes each patient fill out a mental health evaluation sheet every time they come in. mine was basically the equivalent of 'you seem a little down but you're fine overall'.

i cried sometimes on the way to or from work. or to the store. seeing a pretty sunset once made me sad. i cried a lot in my room, especially on my period. i figured, eh, whatever, i'm emotional, i have my period, it's a bad day

i went to visit my friend back in la over thanksgiving and it was wonderful while i was there. i was happy and comfortable and enjoyed doing things like cooking for them. then i came back home and i crashed hard emotionally and i couldn't understand why i was like this. why couldn't i just enjoy the good thing?

i did actually see some therapists over this time too. i never went to one more than once and there was one in particular who responded to me saying that i hated eating because it was too hard with 'well you're going to have to do it for the rest of your life' which was when i stopped trying new ones all together because i was just like, that's the LAST thing i need to hear right now.

at some point maybe a year, year and a half ago, i'm not really sure, i started wishing i didn't have to wake up. that i'd just die so i didn't have to deal with anything anymore because it was all too exhausting. it was more days than it wasn't. and at some point during that period i had a doctor's appointment and circled the little number indicating i had several days where i felt i'd be better off dead. my doctor checked to make sure i hadn't made any plans and i was just like, no. i'm just tired. i'm so tired. my doctor said that was concerning and he wanted to put me on some medications. we talked about how my periods seemed to make it worse.

so at that point he prescribed me fluoxetine and birth control.

it was probably six months ago when i started feeling like "oh this is making a difference. oh, wow, i was in a BAD place." i started having moments where i felt like i used to (i hadn't even realized i didn't feel like i used to). i didn't cry in the car on the way to work or on the way home because i was inexplicably crushingly sad.

there was a bad time in april where stuff going on with my roommate got to be too much and i freaked out, but i talked through it with my mom and after that i was okay. it was just a week or so of being haywire. since then i've been really good. i've been cooking dinner more nights than i don't. i shower every other day, sometimes more, rather than every 3-4 days like i was doing. if i think of something i need or an errand i need to run, i just go do it rather than spending 3 months thinking about it before finally dragging myself out of the house. i don't feel like everything is insurmountably hard anymore. i've been exercising a couple times a week.

anyway, my point is that i was depressed and didn't think so, despite being on tumblr where i was seeing posts almost daily about mental health and depression and getting help. none of those felt like what i was experiencing. i could go to work and be fine while i was at work, so this was just how i was. 

no. 

if you have the slightest hint that things are off, they probably are! i feel like if i had been able to go to my doctor two years ago and be like 'i'm sad a lot for no real reason and i'm not sure why or if it's normal' i probably could have gotten the issues addressed sooner. don't think you have to be wishing for death or unable to get up and go to work to get help. i am on the lowest possible dose of fluoxetine and it's completely changed things. (to be fair, i also met a friend about a year ago and moved in with another friend about six months ago. i think both of those things also had a hand in it. but the medication was so important for me.)

if you feel sad or resigned about the future or too exhausted for basic life activities half or even 1/3 of the days out of a week tell your doctor! i am only just realizing as i am feeling better that the way i felt was not typical (even for me). take care of yourselves. i love you. <3

#personal #mental health #passive suicidal ideation #depression #anxiety #this is rambly but i hope it's somewhat coherent

[itsagentsix]

A Note.

I don’t have a lot of followers (I think five maybe?) on here so I’m gonna write this out here in hopes it will make me feel better. I’m not focusing on grammar or style, so it’s gonna seem like a giant mess but oh well. I need to get this out before I do something bad. 

I’ve been depressed since eighth grade (I graduated last year, and I’m 19 now). And it’s become a part of who I am and I hate that. I was diagnosed pretty early on by multiple doctors but unfortunately, my parents were in charge of my treatments at the time and nothing really got done. We tried multiple medications (Fluoxetine, Citalopram, and a few others) as well as birth control, which I am still on. The prescriptions did nothing to aid my mental health, and I suffered from the side effects pretty heavily. Eventually, we gave up on the medication and tried counseling. I saw many people. The last time I truly trusted a doctor enough to tell them exactly what was on my mind, I was sent away for a week to a facility in which they isolated me and convinced me I was selfish for feeling this way. They made me work for ‘privileges’ like having a clock in my room, going outside, and being able to see or call my family. 

A quick side story about this place - I am a very shy and anxious person, especially when I’m in a stressful situation. I tend to whisper during tense situations. I had just gotten the privilege to see my family for thirty minutes in the afternoon that day, so I was excited to be able to talk with somebody that wasn’t analyzing my every word. I had also been reprimanded for not asking to go into the kitchen before doing so. That was a huge rule there - You ALWAYS have to ask for permission to enter the kitchen no matter the situation. This was supposed to train us to be respectful? Mindful? I have no fucking clue, all I know is that it was early in the morning and I wasn’t fully awake. I was following the adults into the kitchen and I passed the threshold without asking first. That was my sin. So I got in trouble. 

I was so fucking scared of the woman who was on duty that day. There were multiple adults who alternated shifts (2-3 at a time to watch over us every day) during the week to ensure that we were thoroughly watched. Anyway, this lady was in her mid-thirties with an awful attitude. She was NEVER consistent with her personality. One day she would be an evil bitch that insulted your every movement, the next she would get offended because you didn’t catch onto her ‘sarcasm’. The other girl and I were terrified of her. 

I was in the kitchen making breakfast with the other inmate as the Witch watched us from the table. She was close enough to hear us if we spoke softly - which we did. It was painfully awkward and quiet that morning, speaking at a normal volume would have just felt uncomfortable. So the other inmate and I spoke softly while working around each other. At one point I asked for the peanut butter, and the Witch snapped at us for whispering. I guess she assumed we were hatching an escape plan or talking shit about her. I apologized and continued. 

Inmate was standing in front of the cabinet with the plates - I said ‘scuse me with a smile and she stepped out of the way. 

Witch had had enough of our scheming. She came over and drilled into us about how disrespectful we were being for disobeying her. She locked eyes with me and bluntly told me that she might as well take away my meeting with my family this afternoon. In her words, “Unless you give me a worthy apology”.

I started crying. I hadn’t seen my family in days and I was so excited that I could finally see them. To have that one hope taken away from me for WHISPERING POLITELY ten feet away from that snob literally shattered me. I was fourteen years old for Christ's sake. I managed to pull together an apology with the excuse of it being first thing in the morning and we’re all still waking up. She barely bought it and I got to see my family that day. 

That place damaged me, plain and simple. I genuinely thought that I was an absolute failure while I was there. 

I know it doesn’t seem like it was that bad of a place, and I know that their intentions were good. But putting a middle schooler into a situation like that when she’s already in a fragile state? Bad idea.

I went to the emergency room a week after I got out for 23 stitches. 

High school was a shit show for me. I had a bunch of really good friends and a lot of teachers that cared and were supportive of me, but I loathed myself so much that I refused to let any of that sink in. I used self-harm as a crutch - at that time I felt completely disconnected from my body. I felt as if I lived inside of my head and I was dragging around this lumpy carcass with me wherever I go. Cutting was the only thing that brought feeling back to that part of myself. 

My senior year everything really went to shit. The closest friends I had decided to come clean about how much they actually hated me, I was failing all of my classes, and I was gaining weight. I was pushed out of the only friend group I knew and was left in the dirt. I graduated alone and went home early because I had nobody to celebrate it with. The graduation party that my family and I were planning failed miserably. Only one person showed up, and he ended up assaulting me a couple weeks later and expected me to “return the favor”. 

That summer was one of the loneliest times of my life. 

It’s been almost a year, and I’ve started doing things to better myself. I go to the gym four times a week, I’ve been working on my diet. I even reconnected with an old friend. 

But every time I look in the mirror I see a failure. I see something ugly. Unlovable. I keep gaining more weight no matter how hard I try, my diet is so hard to control. I have really bad skin that is prone to bad breakouts and it’s always red. My hair is the texture of hay. I’m 5′1 and 135 lbs with an awful chin and gross fat rolls. 

Tonight I’m having a really bad episode. I can’t sleep at all and I’ve been crying quite a bit. There are so many stresses in my life right now. I try to imagine my future and I can’t see anything.

I’m tired. So, so tired. I’m not good at anything. I can pick up new skills and abilities but I can never become remarkably good at them. I’m always mediocre, average. 

I want to kill myself. I want to do it quietly and painlessly, but my dad also owns a Glock. I know how to use it, and where it is in the house. It wouldn’t be quiet but I only have to shoot it once. 

It’s hard to believe that my parents love me. I’m so useless to them, so ugly. I can never live up to my brother’s reputation as a Marine. I’ll never live up to anything if I’m being honest. I’m not pretty, or talented. I’m not funny or smart or useful. All I’m good at is crying over minor inconveniences. 

The only thing that’s stopping me is the terror of not knowing what’s waiting on the other side for me. I believe in a Heaven and a Hell. I believe in Jesus and what He did. 

Nobody likes me. Nobody would care if I actually left. I am an embarrassment. 

If you actually read this, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see this. I just figured it would get lost in the feed. I needed to get this ‘out there’. It’s helpful to have a medium like Tumblr so I can post things without anybody seeing them. 

My depression is so bad right now, that I’m greatly considering hospitalization. The walls are closing in and I can’t breathe at this point. I know I’m pathetic, I know I’m annoying. I can accept those realities. 

I am so tired.