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The Crazy Katze – Static Medications. . . Am I Normal?

My family has a history of being treatment resistant to medications for mental disorders. Granted, it’s always been depression, but still. I went through I think 9 different anti-depressants, all different classes and none worked. So I’ve told my doctor that I’m worried about this. After all, I’m on the original medications that we started me on over a year ago/9 months ago. Given the history in my family, my own personal history with medications…I am worried about what will happen. I know that, according to my doctor, most bipolar patients have to go through several types of medications to find one that works, along with other strategies to cope with the disorder. Same with OCD.

I mean “static” in the sense not of dosages, but of actual types. See, being on the original medications that I was given after my diagnosis and learning what I really had, that isn’t really what I was given to expect. So I wonder how normal it is. I mean, how many people can say that they haven’t had to, 1.25 years in, had to tweak even something? And given my history of medication failures, I’m not sure how at ease I am with this. I don’t want to bother trouble for myself in worrying too much, but I am aware of what the risks are. And switching medications is not going to be pleasant (should it happen), because I know how much time that’s going to take, and what I’m likely to go through.

It’s just not what I was led to expect at all. Medication is supposed to be a finicky beast that requires constant tinkering and monitoring. (Not that I don’t monitor it, my doctor and I are constantly monitoring my medication) It’s supposed to be difficult to find something that works. Or at least, that’s what I thought would happen. I’m just not sure how usual it is to be able to have a steady, mostly stable self on the very first medications that one is given.

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The Crazy Katze

I’ve been told that I’m lucky. That it’s better that I’m so young and that I’ve been diagnosed and am getting help. In one hand, that is true, I’m sure. I haven’t had twenty or thirty years of wondering what is wrong with me…of rambling through life without having full control of myself. But in the other side of things, it still took them 10 years plus to figure out what was “wrong” with me. That is still over half my life with diagnoses that were wrong, medications that didn’t work, regimens that would fail after multiple months. It still was a nightmare of things to deal with. After all, uncertainty over one’s mental health is always painful, no matter how many years or how young the person in question was. . .

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