Psych!

So I went to the psychiatrist today, and I figured I should tell anyone who is interested what happened.
I'll just do this kind of like a secretary who would have taken notes on the meeting. That aughtta spice things up!
Psychiatrist: So how have you been?
Josh: About the same as last time. So a 5 and a half or 6 on average.
P: So it hasn't gotten any better? What is your range from high to low?
J: About a 3 to an 8.
P: Well how do you feel about changing medicines?
J: Don't care.
P: Alright let me call in your parents.
J: Wait, can I ask you something? I have this weird pain thing(goes into detail about last blog post). Is that related to depression or God?
P: Well I can't speak for God, but that doesn't sound like depression.
(P goes to get mom and dad)
P: Well how do you think Josh is doing?
Dad: He seems pretty miserable.
P: Yeah, that's what I got too. Well I think I'm going to change his medication, even though I'm weary of messing up the balance. Cymbalta seems to have worked the best so far, that's what he's on now. So I'm going to put him on something that's in the same family. (He explains the families and the difference between the two drugs he had considered, ask me if you want to know more). So I think I'll put him on Prestiq.
D: How will you wean him off the cymbalta?
P: Well the 90 mg hasn't done anything so we'll cut him immediately down to 60 mg for a month, and then 30 mg for a month.
J: That seems long.
P: It's not, but we'll put you on the prestiq right away.
J: Is there a chance that the combination will make me better and then taking me off the cymbalta will make it worse?
P: Yes I have had that happen. If it does, we will work from there.
Ok that was the main regular conversation. Now I'll tell you about the other two big, abnormal conversations that happened after.
First, we decided that I should go to therapy again. I'm not sure how I feel about this.
Second, my mom told my psychiatrist about my lip biting thing (from reading my blog) without telling me that she knew, or was going to tell him. I'm sure how I feel about this.

This is going to be a very fast sporadic post because I am trying to capture feelings that do not last.
For some reason I have this thing where if my friends do some things I have this pretty much indescribable feeling that consumes me. It's really weird, and I've only met one other person who has anything like it.

As far as I can remember, this happens with substance use and sexual relations. The first time that I remember it happening is sophomore year. One of my friends did one of these things previously mentioned and I remember just feeling immense pain. So much so, that I was writhing in my bed not able to be still because of this new feeling. I remember not being able to understand it. I have tended to struggle with being a judgmental person, but since then I remember not feeling any judgement towards my friends, just pain and suffering for them. It has happened consistently with any situation like those previously mentioned.

When it happens, the feeling consumes my whole body. I start to feel very hot all over. I doubt my temperature actually rises, but I legitimately feel feverish. The next thing that happens is I experience a burning sensation on my exposed skin. It's not necessarily an intense burn, more of a prickling pain. I experience an odd pain in my chest. It's a beating, yet an emptiness at the same time. It feels like there is a hole wrenching and yearning for something to fill it. In addition to the outside burning I get an odd feeling in my head. It's like an inside burning that feels like a headache. Finally, I get nauseous. This completes the wonderful package that is my physical feeling during these times.

I wrote this on my depression blog because I think it is connected. It didn't start until I was depressed. I get extremely sad when it happens. I don't know if it will go away if my depression goes away. I don't know if I want it to go away. I'm not so sure it's a bad thing. I hate it, but maybe it's what God has for me. I've only told very few people about this, and never in such detail. So I decided to keep to the rules of this blog and write about it.

In true Doctrine and Theology format, I will now give the reason for these feelings, in my opinion.
2 Corinthians 12:2, Ephesians 5:18, Mark 12:30(more to come as I think about this and look up more stuff).

Feel free to respond with thoughts about this, if you have it, other scripture passages. Also, I'm trying to figure out wether or not I should go somewhere that I know this will happen. If you think God is telling you something about it let me know.

How are you?

I've been thinking a lot about how I answer people when they ask me how I am doing. It's kind of an interesting question because there can be so many different intents behind one simple inquisition. In my experience the average teenager says "Hey what's up?" when passing someone in the hall, but the average adult will say "Hey, how are you?". This in itself is interesting. Are adults really more interested than teenagers in how you are doing, or is that just the polite, or cultured way to say what's up?

Based on an experience I had this morning, I would have to say the latter. Today at church I walked by a woman that I know and I said "hey', like I usually do. She responded with "Hey, how are you?". I said "Good. How are you?'. As I turned to hear her answer I saw that she was already turning the corner not waiting to hear my answer, let alone respond to my question. As I think about it now, this is not uncommon. Most people that I pass that ask how I am doing are just walking by, so I answer "good" or "fine". No matter how I am feeling. This is because I don't want to share with them if they aren't genuinely interested. Also I just don't want to share.The problem that I have found is that I can't tell if people are truly interested so I just end up not sharing what's really going on in my life. Now, to be honest, I'm a closed off person a lot of the time, due to a lack of trust; so I'm not sure if I would share anyway, but I'd like to at least have the option. 

Another thing that I have noticed is that my answer compensates for my depression. In reality, I am never fully doing well(as well as I was before depression), but I don't want to answer like that, so I say good if I'm as good as I can be while experiencing depression. If I were to rate on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the most depressed I have been and 10 being the least. I answer good for about a 7, and fine for a 5. Sometimes I'll be as low as a 3 and still say fine.

So, How am I doing? Well, I'll tell you. I'm about as good as I can be with my depression. I have had some great conversations recently; some of which I even started. I've taken initiative to go down to the city, do some homework, and invite friends to go to concerts with me. I haven't been very sad since my first blog post. So if you asked me, and many have, how I am doing. I would say that I am good. My conclusion: Good is a relative term in my book. Although, as I'm learning in philosophy, aren't all things?

P.S. I'm interested to hear any readers thoughts on this. Please comment below and say your thoughts on the culture of greetings or just answer with how you typically respond, wether it be good, fine, terrible, or anything else!

Bite Your Lip and Take It

So I have this really bad habit of biting the inside of my lip. I do it whenever I'm stressed or depressed(not that those two are usually separate). It's a very odd thing, but I thought that I would try and come clean about it and also attempt to put words on why I do it....so here it goes!

The thought process behind it is, for the most part, nonexistent. I mean it's not like I am completely unaware of what is going on. I realize that it is happening, but I don't consciously think "Oh I think I will go ahead and tear up my inner lip now." Truth is, I don't want to do it. Well part of me doesn't. The smart part of me doesn't want to do it, but that would be pretty boring to write about now would it? I guess the part of me that bites my lip has a lot of different motivations. Part of me likes to be in control, and that is an easy way to be in control. Another part honestly enjoys the pain. I don't know if that's a depressed thing or a weird person thing, but sometimes it feels good to hurt. Also, part of me just needs to feel something, anything, to know that I'm real. The pain preoccupies me and takes my mind off of whatever is at hand. Obviously, this is of value to a depressed person. Pain takes me somewhere else so that I don't have to face the problem at hand.

Another part of me that I'm still just beginning to understand likes to think that I'm screwed up. I don't know why, but a part of me wants to be dark and messed up. I think that depression is almost becoming hip, for this reason, but that's for another post in the future. Anyway, I wrote this short post because I wanted to be real about it and I wouldn't be opposed to reader's keeping me accountable on stopping it because I know it can't be good for my lip. Here's a picture of my lip, so you can check how I'm doing if you want. the white part on the left is my lip trying to compensate for the lack of flesh so it kind of laps over with this white stuff that I am fascinated by. I just bit this like yesterday and today and it's already healing!

Even Writing A Letter Is Hard

My Grandpa's birthday is this Sunday so I had to write him a note. I don't have a very good relationship with my grandparents. My Grandpa isn't a Christian and we don't see eye to eye on very many things. My Grandma married him and we have issues of our own. I call them after Christmas and my birthday to thank them for my gifts, or money, and talk to them occasionally, but they insist that I write them notes.

This doesn't sound like a big deal to most people, but they constantly guilt trip me about it, and by constantly, I mean constantly, and by guilt trip, I MEAN Guilt Trip. It's bad, and I let it get to me. I have wanted to write that note so many times, but have never gotten up the courage to actually write it. Lately I have felt really convicted that I need to be a better witness to my grandpa, and I decided the best way to do this was by writing a note.

So I set out to write him a note today. The big problem came when my grandma decided to shoot me another email, and by shoot I mean stab me in the heart with. See the thing is, my grandpa is slowly going blind, and he fainted last week so he has been in the hospital. Obviously this was perfect ammunition for her to take me on yet another trip (of what type you can most likely infer). Anyway, words were typed to me, and I felt awful. So I sat down to write this note. I laid there with my head in my hands for about fifteen minutes before I could even begin to write the note. For some reason, my depression took over and I was overwhelmed with the task at hand. It's a weird feeling that I can't really describe since the moment has passed, but it's one of complete loss of control and a great big heap of apathetic despair. I finally got up the courage to write it, thank God, but writing a note should still not be so difficult.

I realize that this first post may come off as a pity party for me. That was not the intent. My grandparents do not know any better. I do. This situation was my fault, and I am so glad that I am on my way to reconciling the problem that I have caused. I just chose today to write my first post as an instance where depression definitely played a role in the every day life.

P.S. I decided not to post the note here, but if you really want to read it I will be happy to share the note with you, just let me know.