Dismissed

9:05 a.m.

(Our washer is fixed. I can now battle the load of clothing that has been dripping wet for a week, and um. Hopefully un-stink it. Hooray, clean clothes. Oh, and in the course of my washer/laundry googling, I stumbled across some message boards where women were complaining about husbands putting socks in the hamper not turned right-side out. What? Does it matter? How could it matter, and why not just wait until they are clean if you're that concerned? Was I the only child--and on some days, adult--in the world who ran around in inside-out socks? I had no idea people were concerned about washing socks right-side out.)

(Also, the uh, dog is expelling worms today, and he's been a saint about staying in the garage. Not that I'm not going to the screen door and cooing to him constantly about what a good boy he is, because I am. Oh, yes, I am.)

Yesterday was frustrating. I've been trying to find a job, and the results have been disheartening. The whole needs-employment-mindset is nasty, and there isn't much available in this tiny town. I've found a few things to apply for, but I'm feeling pretty terrible about the whole situation.

I also went to the new brain-doctor yesterday for the first time, and the experience left me tired, upset, and angry. Our insurance covers a place that is essentially a substance abuse organization, and a guy with prescriptive authority comes to town a few mornings a week to see patients who are on meds. (For anyone new here, I'm on medication for ADD, depression, and anxiety.) The waiting list to see him is long, and I'd already gotten stern letters from the place about being on time, bringing my tax forms, blah blah blah, and seeing a new psychiatrist is nerve-wracking for me anyway, so I woke yesterday feeling apprehensive. And somehow I was nearly late for the appointment and showed up all breathless and out of sorts.

First I had to meet with the financial person, and something was wrong in the paperwork and she had written down that J earns DOUBLE what he actually earns, and I had to argue that, which got me all defensive. Then I had to fill out paper work on any substances I've used/am using, including exactly how much caffeine I drink a day and in what form, which I understand, as they are treating substance abuse, but it also made me feel defensive. When the doctor came out to the waiting room and called my name, I was really sure he said "Hannah" and not "Kara" so I sat there, passively staring blankly at the ugly carpet, until I realized I was the only one in the room and he must have meant me.

I always feel awkward, when someone has a heavy accent that I am not used to, because I am embarrassed to ask them to repeat themselves. And I am even more embarrassed when they repeat themselves and I still don't understand the word and have to ask again. I don't know why it is so mortifying to me to have to ask for a repetition, but I always feel slow and stupid and non-understanding, and it is horrible. So you can imagine how my evaluation went, when I had to agonizingly ask over and over what the man was asking me because I was having trouble understanding through the accent.

I'm so ridiculous.

The evaluation was short, and left me all kinds of angry--he immediately told me to stop taking the afternoon dose of ADD med and said that he probably wouldn't refill the anti-anxiety, because he didn't like to prescribe it. He was abrupt, dismissive, and forgetful. He waved aside my current feelings with his hand, saying, "You've just moved!" and that was it. He didn't seem interested in my background, and asked typical background questions as an afterthought at the end. I felt he was a little, well, rude when I had to explain a past sexual assault. Or...something. I felt that most of the evaluation was spent in me spelling and slowly respelling my last name, and him trying to learn to pronounce it. He asked me a few times if the ADD meds were actually helping, and I ended up snarling, "Yes, it's changed my life" at one point in a not-very-nice way. And, because I am a glutton for punishment (and because I was wondering, as I have read all kinds of crazy things about it) I asked about pregnancy and Adderall.

He told me that it wasn't a big deal to take it (I asked about the baby going through withdrawal after birth and how it makes them grow slowly and he said, "Yes, that happens, but whatever") but that when I wanted to get pregnant, to let him know and I could stop. He started talking about how pregnancy hormones change women and how I wouldn't need anything for ADD or depression anymore, because the hormones change women mentally in a positive way. And I was sort of befuddled, because...I've never seen anything about pregnancy curing ADD, or depression, for life, and said, "Wait, what? But then people take it after they give birth, is that what you're saying? They feel good during pregnancy and then after birth continue treatment?" And he said, essentially, 'No, pregnancy and childbirth will change you for forever, and your hormones will be different forever and you won't need treatment for ADD or anxiety anymore. It's too life-changing. I won't see you anymore after that, it'll be a closed case.'

He laid open his palms, and then snapped them shut in a clap, slamming an invisible book, as if to say, "Duh! Childbirth will cure ADD and anxiety forever!" He said, "This is temporary for you!" He then turned on a tape recorder and spoke into it quickly, giving an overview of the session and stopping it to have me pronounce my last name a few more times, and he spoke so quickly into the mic I didn't know what he was saying. The drone of doctor speak made me feel very much like a subject or lab rat, and perhaps it is normal, I've just never had a psychiatrist do that while I was still in the room.

I was feeling a bit incredulous, and then we went out to the waiting room again to make my appointments, and on his way out, he yelled, in front of the now-full waiting room and office staff, "Oh, hey, I have to see her every month instead of every two, because she is on a CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE. Every month!"

And then the earth opened up in a giant yawning crack and swallowed me whole, the end!

Seriously. How is that appropriate? Behold! This woman is on a controlled substance!

I need to research and see if I can see someone else I am more comfortable with. And with whom I feel like I can communicate effectively.

The Adderall has changed my life. I spent so much of my life forgetting things, losing things, not being able to prioritize, getting overwhelmed when I had an afternoon of chores. I once forgot about a midterm and once forgot about a final exam. I dropped things a lot, I couldn't keep things straight, and I would get so angry. So angry! With myself! It didn't take much to frazzle me, and anytime something unexpected would come up or my plans would change, I'd freak out and get anxious. I felt depressed, I felt bad about myself, I felt guilty for things that I wasn't supposed to feel guilty about. I was a distracted driver, I had trouble listening in conversations, I couldn't remember things I had been told repeatedly. My frustration would escalate to rage quickly, and sometimes I felt I would explode from the sheer anger and disgust I felt at myself. I wanted to hurt myself when I got that way, and sometimes I did. An afternoon of paying bills was enough to send me into an angry fit of tears, because I was so...out of it. Just drowning. I was up and down, I jumped from thing to thing to thing, and never focused clearly. I remember how clear things were the first few days I took it--it was like I was noticing my surroundings for the first time. I wasn't a ball of overwhelmed confusion. I could see. I felt normal. I could sit through an entire movie.

Adderall is a stimulant, a mix of amphetamines, but on it I am calmer and more focused. I feel more productive and less obsessive. I am more stable and less angry. I like myself. I can listen better, and I don't lose things as much. I don't have nearly as many mornings where I lose things and forget things and have to run in and out a million times to grab something I missed. I feel like who I really am was underneath all these clouds of confusion, and I swam to the top and here I am! I feel good! I feel normal! I can handle living my life now! I feel capable. Capable! I'm not being swallowed by my inability. I'm not being suffocated by frustration at myself.

In fact, the drowning feeling has gone away. I can breathe.

I've been on a variety of anti-depressants, and this is the first time something has made sense or truly worked for me. Reading about ADD was like reading about myself, reading about all the parts of myself I was so ashamed of. When I left the doctor's office for the last time in Wyoming, I grabbed his hand and shook it and babbled about how he had changed my life, thank you so much thank you. I feel like an intelligent person who worked WITH her doctor to find a good solution, and it's like a huge slap in the face to see someone who dismisses things so lightly. I know how I was before, and J has seen a huge difference in me too. Even friends and former bosses noticed. I can't imagine having a new baby and being so overwhelmed with everything anyway, let alone with ADD overwhelmed-ness, and not having at least a doctor who would talk things over with me. Who assumes that pregnancy hormones would just make me feel SO GOOD and SO FOCUSED, and will also cure anxiety disorders, because, um, isn't there postpartum depression? Is this a part of childbirth I've not heard about? Please correct me if I'm mistaken. And don't get me wrong here, of course I'd love to not be on meds forever, and I hope I can find a way to work things out so I won't have to be, but I don't know that this doctor is the one who's going to help that happen in a productive way. Maybe after birth, whenever that is, I will feel awesome and won't want to be on meds, and that would be fantastic. I just would like to be able to have some say in the matter, give some input.

Now I'm going to go do laundry and work on a painting and do some more job hunting.

Have a beautiful weekend,
black sheeped