September 27, 2007 (log)
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As you may, or may not, be aware, I've endured a long, uninterrupted [Of all the Seasons, Autumn is the Most Dangerous|fall from grace] over the course of the past year. To sum up, [October 18, 2006|I lost my job], which I'd held for over six years, in October 2006, due mostly to diminished performance caused by a [July 6, 2006|bevy] [July 12, 2007|of] [September 15, 2006|medical] [March 29, 2006|problems] at the time (some of which are still ongoing). I [Temping|temped] and [Contracting|contracted] for the first several months of this year, but since my last contract ended in May, I haven't been able to find any [Unemployment|work] at all.
What little savings I had were gone by July, leaving me unable to pay my rent, and at the end of that month, I moved myself from [New Orleans, Louisiana|New Orleans] to [Franklin, Tennessee|Franklin], [Tennessee], to share a house with my 59-year-old father, who himself has been out of work since May 2006 and who was [The worst things about divorce|divorced] by my mother, after 33 years of marriage, in October 2006. The divorce settlement she received entitles her to about 90% of my father's [401(k)|retirement money] (his unemployment came about due to [Redundancy|forced retirement]).
These things make for a particularly downtrodden atmosphere in the house of [avalyn].
It gets [It could always be worse|worse].
With the end of my longtime job and the contracting that followed it, I find myself without [The insane cost of U.S. health care|health insurance]. Without it, I've been slowly descending into [The Madness of George III|madness] as my [prescription medications] run out one by one, because I can't afford to refill them at uninsured prices. First, I ran out of [pregabalin|Lyrica]. Not a big deal, but it did lend a small hand in controlling my [panic attack]s. Then I finished the last of the [quetiapine|Seroquel], which had quite a bit more to do with controlling panic and [anxiety attack|anxiety], and left me finding it difficult to stay asleep. Adding insult to injury, the [eszopiclone|Lunesta] dried up next, leaving me unable to get to sleep at all; spans of seven to nine days of [sleep deprivation|severe] [insomnia] followed on an almost predictable basis. Have you ever stayed awake for over seven days? It's not something I can recommend unless you have a penchant for horrifying hallucinations, extreme muscle fatigue, inability to eat or to form complete sentences. A couple weeks later, I bid farewell to [alprazolam|Xanax], which was more or less the last bastion of defense I had against panic attacks. Luckily, I had enough samples of [escitalopram oxalate|Lexapro], my [antidepressant], around thanks to the far-seeing [due diligence|diligence] of my former [psychiatry|psychiatrist], who gave me several months worth of sample packets the last time I saw him. Two months after I'd run out of everything else, I still had it, keeping me [Wonko the Sane|sane]. As of last week, I've run out of it, too. As a result, I've gone into deep [withdrawal symptoms|withdrawal]. There hasn't been much [There is no good depression. It's not sexy. It's not fun. It's not the new rock and roll.|depression] yet, but I'm sure it's in the [United States Postal Service|post]. Panic attacks and unprovoked feelings of anxiety now whip me multiple times daily. [Brain zaps], a common symptom of [SSRI discontinuation syndrome|SSRI withdrawal], prick me with each move of my head, neck or eyes, or if I even find myself [racing thoughts|thinking too quickly]. [How to get to sleep|Sleep] has become a [Stop me if you think you've heard this one before|bad joke], oft-repeated; it seems I'm capable of it for only minutes at a time. All I have to look forward to is months (at the very least) of this kind of thing as my brain slowly becomes accustomed to the lack of chemicals it's been receiving in daily doses for the past five years.
Some have suggested replacing my prescription drugs with [St. John's wort], [Gamma-aminobutyric acid|GABA] supplements, [melatonin] or [valerian root]. Much as I'm willing to give these things a try (despite melatonin and valerian root never having much of an effect on me to begin with), I don't have even a [No Penny|penny] to my name; my bank account is woefully overdrawn and I have to practically beg and plead with my father to get him to spot me even five dollars for petrol so I can drive to a [The worst job interview ever|job interview] and back (not that any interviews I've been to thus far have been successful, of course), and said begging and pleading will occur only in times of dire desperation, because he doesn't have much money either, which is why I can't ask him for any money for food or to pay for refills of my long-lost meds. Getting five dollars out of him is like [(Anesthesia) Pulling Teeth|pulling teeth] as it is, or at least it would be if [guilt trip]s and disdain were parts of the normal [tooth extraction] process.
Even if I could find employment now, I honestly don't think I'd last too long, due to my mental state. Thinking things through has become impossibly difficult. The attention to detail that most work requires isn't something I'm capable of any longer (at least not presently).
With a bit of luck, my drug withdrawal won't morph into full-blown [vertigo], which is what happened the last time I was forced to abandon an antidepressant drug regimen.
To top that off, I had a court appearance scheduled for [August 23, 2007|August 23], due to a very minor car accident I'd been involved in early this summer. Since by that time I'd been in Tennessee for three weeks and I have no money, it goes without saying that I had no way of attending. As such, there's been an [You're Under Arrest!|attachment for my arrest] issued. I have no idea what to do about this, although at this point, there's nothing I can do at all other than hope for a complete lack of interaction with any police force in the future.
The only thing separating me and the [Human existence of the homeless|homeless] right now is the roof over my head, and I can't say with any certainty how much longer it will stay there. If I disappear from E2 abruptly, fear the worst.
I'm in a [How to die in a crevasse|very large hole with very steep sides]. Climbing out of it will be a major undertaking, and I don't know if climbing out of it is even possible at this point. My goose is pretty well-cooked. All that's left is for something or someone to come along and [Stick a fork in their ass and turn them over, they're done|poke me with a fork]. My only ambition now is to [Don't give up|stay alive].
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to curl up on my bed and [Who would cry for me should I die tonight?|cry] my eyes out.