Today, a brief story

Once again I’m playing around with my meds. Unsupervised. No overdoses yet, but the groundwork is getting set.

In my eternal quest for energy, i currently take Ritalin three times daily. I have also previously been prescribed Provigil. As much as I wanted Provigil to work, it just failed to give me physical energy (I was mentally alert though). Despite my history of drug and alcohol abuse, my doctor, a physician with the Harm Reduction Center, prescribed Ritalin to combat the fatigue. Technically, i take Concerta, the long acting formulation, because it is less easily abused.

Today, I wanted to get rid of the fog and lethargy, so i took both Provigil and Ritalin. Within 20 minutes I was sweating like a whore in church, stomach in knots and heart pounding, making me dizzy and nauseous. The cloud in which I was operating became more intense and fuzzy than before. I managed to make it to work, but they took one look at me and sent me back to where I came from.

I am truly disappointed that this apparently toxic combination did not work out. The Ritalin doesn’t chase the fog away, and the Provigil simply doesn’t give me energy. Anyone have some thoughts on meds to try for energy?

I am absolutely blessed with city-funded healthcare, for which I currently do not pay a dime. With Special coverage under the separate Mental Health Plan, reserved for the city’s problem cases, I get free therapy, no-cost psychiatry appointments and no-copay medications. I just wanted to send a big thank you to the city at this moment for taking me in, feeding me, providing shelter, and providing the means to not just live but to get ahead in life. I currently take around 20 different medications each day, some costing several thousand per month, which I could not afford if this were a regular insurance plan or if I had to pay out of pocket. The city has given me new life. Now just don’t mess it up.


thorazine dreams redux This poem I wrote back in February perfectly sums up how I feel now. Once again, alone, in my room, mattress on the floor, shivering in the cold, and wondering if any of this is worth it. I do miss my thorazine dreams. Perhaps I’ll expand on this train of thought in the coming days. I hope some of you can relate to parts of the story. Life on the suicide bed. Life never lived or enjoyed. Life broken and charred. Life that begs for death to spare it from itself. I may soon get put back on thorazine. I look forward to the sweet stickiness of thought and mind, the out of body experience, the feeling that everything is ok, though the world may be crumbling away. Yes, I miss this feeling of bliss. I miss my thorazine dreams.