So, yep, met with my psychiatrist this morning, for our three-month follow up. Last time I had met with her was just after the November Elections. Needless to say at that time, I was quite rather distraught. She was curious to see how I was doing, since the political climate has not changed, if even sunk lower.
Nope, things have not dramatically improved mentally since November. Anxiety and nightmares have increased. No active thoughts of suicide during my waking/walking hours. However, I have been having a lot of dreams of me killing myself, often in a most dramatic fashion, of course. Combined with the dread of dreams, and the simple fact that I cannot go to sleep easily at a decent hour, my days are exhausting.
She is going to adjust my Wellbutrin so that it should be less intrusive on my falling asleep at night. She as well is adding Prazosin to tone down my anxiety, and my nightmares. She wishes that she could just simply tell me to buck up, and ride it out. But, however, not foreseeing any near future end to this era, it is best to change the meds. Oh, yeah, and get out and take walks.
She agrees with my EMDR therapist that I need to hold back on expecting validation to come from social media interactions. It is one of my primary connections with life. I do not dare reach out to any family members. Most any time I do such, the rebuttal always returns back at me regarding my “gay lifestyle.” It is just better to live with this on my own.
Overall, with life, I give much and receive little. I am grateful for work and Netflix being safe spaces for me. I really am grateful for this team of doctors helping grow through this difficult period. Through it all, I do know the presence and comfort of God.
Lately, friends have been telling me that they are sorry for how the current social climate seemingly is growing so anti-gay, to which I have responded that I have just grown numb. Actually, that isn’t fully completely true. I am numb, yes, but there are chinks. I want to put on a brave front for the next generation. I want to be strong and fighting for them so they do not have to live in an unwelcoming world like I grew up in.
Another close friend texted me this afternoon asking, “Is it just me or is everyone being extra dickish/reactive/and or crazy lately? Could be just me.” I responded with, “Nope. It is not just you.” Then, I sent this pic:
with the response of, “I am fixing to believe that I need to change my wardrobe to protect me.” It is tough. It is rough. I am not as secure as I want to be portrayed.
Lacking any positive, consistent and strong emotional support system, for now, I only but trust journaling here. Are there others who live with this cocktail of anxiety, loneliness, depression, PTSD, suicide? Would it be good if such a person is found, to keep each other accountable, raw and honest? Is it possible to have multiple male friends, each fulfilling a different role (physical, mental, sexual, emotional, spiritual, social, etc.) that either of us could provide for each other? Yeah, I didn’t think so either.
I just long for some guy to hold my hand, to just sit in silent presence with me.
I told you that these posts will be rambling (-; This is me.