My life took a bad turn and I was hospitalized for a week and a half. It’s hard admitting that I lost the fight. Not that I did anything drastic since that would be unthinking of me but I let my family down and I let myself down.

I was put on Seroquel and I think it was the second worst medication I’ve been on and I’ve been on a lot. At the dosage the psychiatrist at the hospital put me on I was a zombie. I was unable to hold a conversation and thinking was very difficult. If somebody asked me a question it was very hard to answer so I went with “I don’t know” because I really didn’t know what I was thinking or feeling. I wouldn’t recommend my next move which was to only take part of the dosage. I had never been full of so much rage. I got into a lot of fights with my family. It wasn’t normal to hope people would drop dead simply because they existed. On the days I didn’t take it at all my family sighed in relief because I wasn’t angry and I wasn’t a zombie either.

I saw my regular psychiatrist on Monday and I’m on a new medication and am feeling all right. Not sure how it’s going to turn out but I’m keeping my hopes up. He also reassured me by reaffirming my (and my family’s) belief that the diagnosis the psychiatrist at the hospital gave me was wrong since I didn’t fit with the symptoms.

I try to keep a lot of the negativity off this blog on the odd occasion I write in it. I have what I have and my main goal is to live my life as normally as I can. I don’t want to write my diagnosis here but it will never go away, neither therapy nor medication can make me recover, but I am not going to let it win.