@sincere, I was diagnosed as bipolar with major depression and anxiety about fifteen years ago. In hindsight, and with a little education, it is clear that I have suffered with at least mild depression all of my life. Now, at 49, I’m on disability for this, as well as fibromyalgia. My goal is to be content.. I have never been happy, and don’t even strive for that anymore. My mania isn’t the delusional, life’s a party, thinking I can fly off the top of a building sort. Mine is the extreme agitation, irritability, and I’d like to strangle (not really) kind. To make matters worse, I am taking care of my mother, who is only 70 but acts like she’s 90, my 31 year old son, who is also on disability for mental illness, my 14 year old niece, who considers & calls me her mother, and my 12 year old nephew. I’ve had the two youngest for the last 9 years, ever since my sister abandoned them because she didn’t want to be a mom anymore. My mother is the one who adopted them because the backwards county we lived in didn’t know how to let two related females adopt. If we were lesbians they could do it. Anyway, my mom was afraid I’d get mad at her and take the kids if I were the one to adopt them. Except for ADHD, they are really good kids. Thank God for Adderal! So, I find myself getting extremely frustrated with my mother and my son because neither of them will help out with housework, cooking, or trying to make our family function. I can’t take my frustrations out on them, and the kids definitely don’t deserve it, so I end up turning it back around on myself. I get mad that I have always had the responsibility of taking care of my family (pretty much since I was 9 years old), and I am incapable of walking away because I know that they can’t function without me, especially the kids. I hate myself for being too weak to get out before I had my son and got stuck in this permanent situation. My point is, I have never had a life of my own. And when I get this frustrated, with no outlet, I cut myself. Just last week I had to get 11 stitches in my arm. So, comparing this to worrying about my weight… My mental health has to come first. I know I need more medication than what I’m taking, but at least the Cymbalta helps. I’d like to take another 60mg pill in the afternoon, but I know they won’t prescribe any more than what I’m taking. I don’t want to switch to something else because I can’t afford to wait a couple of weeks for something new to kick in. I’m fairly certain that I would end up committing suicide. My older brother went through that, where they were constantly putting him on something new, trying to find something that would work for him. They even tried electro-shock therapy on him. He finally had enough, and he had gained about 300 pounds, and he killed himself. That was 16 years ago. I know I have given way more information than anyone probably wanted, but I have a hard time making a statement without giving the back story.
@safetyshield gave good advice about being strong and firm with the doctor. They aren’t gods. If one doesn’t seem to be helping, or you don’t seem to have a good rapport with them, look for someone else. I’m at the point with the doctors available to me here that I’m going to start looking for someone in Pittsburgh or Cleveland. I don’t respond well to a doctor who doesn’t value my opinion and thinks they have all the answers, which is what I am encountering now. I guess my last PCP, which was in Indianapolis, spoiled me.
Good luck with your doctors appointment. Good for you for dealing with this now. The longer you ignore the problem the worse it tends to get.