Friday, May 14, 2010


I finally remembered to update my blog. I honostly can actually use this blog now, because, same as how I have returned to my blog, so have my depression symptoms.

On March 8th I was accepted into Dominion Mental Hospital for suicidal thoughts. I was there for 5 days, during which I participated in group after group with the other girls at the hospital. During my stay, they upped my medication from 50mg of Zoloft to 100mg. At that time, my suicidal thoughts seemed to go away. On the day I was to see my physciatrist to make sure my medication was alright, I self injured. Self-injured is a term I will be using often, because while cutting is a form of self injure that many use, I have never actually performed the act. I had been at school and had become overwhelmed with life. For reason I could hardly understand, I felt the need to hurt myself, such as raking my nails against my skin. Between my classes, I went into the bathroom, and repeatedly ran the sharp edge of my house key against the soft skin of my forearm. The redmark that was left was there for around 3 days, just for a reference for you to know how long/hard I did this. After this, I had gym with my bestfriend of 6 years, who has been through this with all of me. While sitting there with her during the silent reading we are required to have during 4th and 8th period, I began to dig my nails into my palm. When I got to the physicatrist, I had already told my mother about what I had done. In attempts to fix my problems, they changed my medication to 150mg of Zoloft. This never seemed to change a thing, and the next day, I did not go to school. Or the day after that. Or for the next week. Eventually my parents realized I could not return to school in my condition because I needed to be watched to insure I did not injure myself. My father works from home, so I am now on Homebound education, where a teacher comes to my home to give me work and teach me the things at school. I am now finding that I not only wish to self-injure, my suicidal thoughts have returned.

Many of the times that I find myself seriously craving to injure myself to the point I must be watched completely and not left alone, is at night around the times of 7-8pm. This does not mean I do not have symptoms during the day, I have them quiet often. Because of this, we increased my appoitments with my therapist to once a week, however, she wishes to put my into Intensive Outpatient program, which is a group therapy that is for 3 hours, 3 times a week.

I will most likely begin to post often to express what is happening in my life, as a therapy method.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


Floccinaucinihilipilification-The act of describing something as worthless.
Ex. 1741: William Shenstone, Letters,
I loved him for nothing so much as his flocci-nauci-nihili-pili-fication of money.

Taken from Wikipedia, I believe that is an accurate word for the title of bringing you all up to speed on whats happened in my life. I deem everything horrid that happened in my past/is happening in the present, as worthless.

This is not a blog to talk about how my life sucks and to just complain. While I will talk about how tough my life has been, it is meerly to give insite into the life of someone with serotonin problems.

A few months ago, I was diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder, Depression, and I was informed that while I did not have full OCD, I'm merely missing the Compulsive part of that disorder. I will be using this blog somewhat to express myself and vent, but I will mostly try to keep myself in check from complaining to much, kay'?

I am currently in 10th grade, and am 15. Call me Stephanie, Steph, whatever. If anyone is offended with my use of the term 'insane' in my title, well, I'm sorry. I don't find it offending and I have many mental problems myself. I was thinking of using 'Insite into the mentally wrong', but what blog with a title like that would get read, eh? Now on with my introduction of myself I suppose.
Age 1-7:
I was born in Orange County, California. When I was young, I was constantly afraid of everything. I hated the dark, and the unknown. I cried often, and had a habit of opening my closet and shower curtin. I figured everyone went through this so I never explained myself to anyone. I had an overall fear of most things.
Age 9-11:
When in the car I would find it hard to breath occasionally. This usually only happened when the car was very warm. I started having minor panic attacks.
At summer camp in the summer leading into 7th grade, I had an anxiety attack. They speaker had been talking about needles, which had led to me feeling claustrophic, scared, and I felt like braking down and crying. I wouldn't let my friends touch me unless I saw their hands. At the time I had no idea what these were, and refered to them as panic attacks, and didn't understand the severity of them. I had only about 2 more of these in the 7th and 8th grade, but they increased severally once I got into 9th grade. I had started First Aid which had quiet a graphic book used to teach the lessons. Eventually my anxiety attack increased to about one every-other class.
My mother had becomed very concerned with my anxiety attacks, seeing as they would start to appear at very random times, with no mention of anything that used to set me off. She hinted at it to my new doctor, but they did not recomend a therapist. So my mom asked my old doctor, who gave my mom a therapist to see. I met my therapist for the first time, who sent me to a phsyciatrist to be diagnosed.
Age 15:
I was diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder and put on Zoloft which is medication often used for OCD, Depression, Anxiety Disorder, ect. The starting dose was 12mg, a very very low dosage to get my body used to the medication. Right before the I had gotten the medication I had started to have suicidal thoughts. The thoughts continued even when the dosage of my medication was doubled to 24mg. I cried often for no reason, and found myself afraid to go home alone in fear that I would hurt myself. I was touchy on almost every subject, and went to my guidence counciler at school almost everyday. I told my theripst that I was sad constantly. She said Anxiety Disorder and depression usually go hand and hand. Finally my medication was then increased to 50mg. Slowly I found myself becoming less anxious and my suicidal thoughts went away.

If all of my problems seem to be solved, your probably wondering why I am posting this blog. My problems are not gone. Merely they are postponed untill I have the skills to deal with them and change them. This summer my phsyciarist wishes to get my off of my medication. The thought scares me and I feel like I'm holding onto my medication for dear life. I know how it felt before, and don't wish to go back, ever. I still get anxious. I still am depressed. And so I'm documenting my journey to fight against my own brains inability to make the correct amount hormones. And I'm showing the world that if I can get out of this, they can get out of what is going on in their lives.