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State of the Amy - One Year Later
Nov. 10th, 2023 12:09 pmHi!
I’m Amy. Content Warning: I’m going to be talking about some tough stuff here, namely suicidal ideation and death by suicide, but also depression, anxiety, and treatment.
I’ll give you some space to decide whether that’s something you want to read about today.
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I never got to meet my maternal grandfather. Mom was always very honest about why. He shot himself after a bad business deal. It happened while she was in college. It was such a shock that she didn’t start to grieve for a year afterwards, and then it was hard to explain why she was grieving then. It was really tough for her.
Over time, I grew to learn that my mother’s uncle also shot himself. Twice, in fact, if the family story is true. The first time he lived, and he did it again ten years later, and did not live.
At first, I thought being obsessed with death just meant I was a goth, until I really, really, really wanted to jump off a roof freshman year of college and it never entirely went away.
Because we had a family history of suicide, I had some warning. I got into student counseling. I started taking meds.
I had intrusive visualizations of crashing my car into walls and trees, of cutting myself with sharp objects, of taking all the pills I could find. It seemed like almost anything could trigger them, whether I was at home or away, no matter what kind of day I was having.
Later on, my sister attempted suicide after a rough time in her life. Thankfully, she lived, and things are a lot better for her now.
Eventually, my mother killed herself. The entire time I knew her, she struggled with mental health. I used to say that her mental house began to lose rooms until she felt trapped in one hallway, with only one door. The way out.
I tried going to a survivors of suicide loss support group. I learned some very important things there. I’m glad I went a few times, but at the end of the day it was hard to attend.
I tried different meds. I found one that made the intrusive visualizations go away, and for a while I thought it made the suicidal ideation go away, but it just became episodic.
I had wake-up-crying days, where the tears would start as soon as the reality of the world hit me and my mood would tank for weeks thereafter.
I looked up different therapies and medicines. I tried two more SSRIs, even though the one I tried in college hadn’t agreed with me. I was so nauseous, and I wouldn’t let myself stop trying for a while, even though I couldn’t eat, because what if this worked?
Eventually, I found myself at a crossroads. Try lithium, which has a lot of drug interactions, or look into electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), or try TMS.
Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, it’s called. It’s sometimes recommended for people who might be running out of other things to try and aren’t ready for ECT, which sounded about right for me.
I didn’t think my insurance would cover it, but I worked with the local TMS center and provided form after form and Beck Depression Inventory questionnaire after Beck Depression Inventory questionnaire.
I was ready to do benefit concerts and crowdfunding if I had to, but thankfully I didn’t have to.
A post I made on September 9, 2022: “Yesterday was my mapping session and first therapy session of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). The office I'm going to uses a BrainsWay branded machine.
The first thing they put on me was a blue skullcap (which happened to match my face mask!) and then they affixed a measuring strip to the cap. Then they used the helmet, one pulse at a time, to find my motor threshold. The magnetic pulse would make a loud click, and if my right hand twitched (just a tiny movement of my ringfinger for me), they knew they had found the right place in my brain and the right strength. Once they had located that, they could use the skullcap to measure to find my left and right dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. Then they position the magnetic coils there and fire almost two thousand pulses per session to make the neurons fire and give me neurotransmitters and regulate them. (I may be explaining this poorly. Feel free to google!)
I will be completely honest with y'all: the first session was terrifying. I was all strapped into this atrocious thing, it was incredibly noisy (they have very good earplugs there and you are required to use them to protect your hearing, never fear), and it made my head and jaw tense up (they gave me a mouthguard and the jaw thing will likely go away in a week). It sounds like woodpeckers and feels like tiny hammers. It doesn't hurt, exactly, but it doesn't feel nice. It has the otherworldly buzzing sensation of a tattooing needle. I sat there unmoving except for the tears running down my face dampening my mask. The pulses continued every twenty seconds for about twenty minutes.
I hated that I had to do it. I hated my brain for putting me there. I hated the psychiatrist and technician there for doing this to me, and I hated myself for not taking it off and leaving.
However. The pain and oddness only happened a few seconds at a time, and it stopped as soon as the session was over. They had tissues at the ready. My husband told me how brave I was. We went home and ordered in and I got pasta and tiramisu. I reminded myself that I have been suicidal for twenty years. Can I not withstand eleven or twelve hours of intermittent magnetic zaps over 2-3 months to try to combat those twenty years?”
I continued those appointments until I had completed thirty-six of them in the span of three months. The mouthguard never went away. I kept it as a trophy. I had my last appointment on November 10, 2022.
It has now been one calendar year.
My depression and suicidal ideation did not go away immediately. And I think my depression is still there, it’s just easier.
But since January, my suicidal ideation has been gone.
Just gone.
In May, I wrote: “I haven’t been suicidal. For four months in a row. I don’t know if that means that TMS works for anybody but me, and I don’t know how long it’s going to work, and it doesn’t take away all the problems in my life. I’ve had fewer wake-up-crying days. Most of the time I’ve been at a four or under on my mental health scale, but I haven’t felt the need to categorize or journal to document my moods. I am having more good days.”
My friends say I’m more resilient lately. I still cry a lot, but it turns out I’m just a naturally weepy person.
I’m not getting a lot more done. I feel bad about that. I thought if I fixed my suicidal ideation, then maybe I’d be more productive because I wouldn’t be crying on the kitchen floor all the time.
I spend a lot of time confused and unsure. I spent a really long time living sort of pass/fail, as though I was telling myself, "okay, if everything doesn't work out I can just go home and wipe myself off the face of the planet!" And I'm taking that option off my table for myself. Now, I feel like I'm being graded with the rest of the other students, which is terrifying.
Living with the consequences of my actions, living long enough to suffer the indignities of aging, living long enough to see my partners die… It’s a lot to come to grips with.
I’m still glad I get to try.
I’m Amy. Content Warning: I’m going to be talking about some tough stuff here, namely suicidal ideation and death by suicide, but also depression, anxiety, and treatment.
I’ll give you some space to decide whether that’s something you want to read about today.
+++
+++
+++
+++
+++
I never got to meet my maternal grandfather. Mom was always very honest about why. He shot himself after a bad business deal. It happened while she was in college. It was such a shock that she didn’t start to grieve for a year afterwards, and then it was hard to explain why she was grieving then. It was really tough for her.
Over time, I grew to learn that my mother’s uncle also shot himself. Twice, in fact, if the family story is true. The first time he lived, and he did it again ten years later, and did not live.
At first, I thought being obsessed with death just meant I was a goth, until I really, really, really wanted to jump off a roof freshman year of college and it never entirely went away.
Because we had a family history of suicide, I had some warning. I got into student counseling. I started taking meds.
I had intrusive visualizations of crashing my car into walls and trees, of cutting myself with sharp objects, of taking all the pills I could find. It seemed like almost anything could trigger them, whether I was at home or away, no matter what kind of day I was having.
Later on, my sister attempted suicide after a rough time in her life. Thankfully, she lived, and things are a lot better for her now.
Eventually, my mother killed herself. The entire time I knew her, she struggled with mental health. I used to say that her mental house began to lose rooms until she felt trapped in one hallway, with only one door. The way out.
I tried going to a survivors of suicide loss support group. I learned some very important things there. I’m glad I went a few times, but at the end of the day it was hard to attend.
I tried different meds. I found one that made the intrusive visualizations go away, and for a while I thought it made the suicidal ideation go away, but it just became episodic.
I had wake-up-crying days, where the tears would start as soon as the reality of the world hit me and my mood would tank for weeks thereafter.
I looked up different therapies and medicines. I tried two more SSRIs, even though the one I tried in college hadn’t agreed with me. I was so nauseous, and I wouldn’t let myself stop trying for a while, even though I couldn’t eat, because what if this worked?
Eventually, I found myself at a crossroads. Try lithium, which has a lot of drug interactions, or look into electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), or try TMS.
Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, it’s called. It’s sometimes recommended for people who might be running out of other things to try and aren’t ready for ECT, which sounded about right for me.
I didn’t think my insurance would cover it, but I worked with the local TMS center and provided form after form and Beck Depression Inventory questionnaire after Beck Depression Inventory questionnaire.
I was ready to do benefit concerts and crowdfunding if I had to, but thankfully I didn’t have to.
A post I made on September 9, 2022: “Yesterday was my mapping session and first therapy session of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). The office I'm going to uses a BrainsWay branded machine.
The first thing they put on me was a blue skullcap (which happened to match my face mask!) and then they affixed a measuring strip to the cap. Then they used the helmet, one pulse at a time, to find my motor threshold. The magnetic pulse would make a loud click, and if my right hand twitched (just a tiny movement of my ringfinger for me), they knew they had found the right place in my brain and the right strength. Once they had located that, they could use the skullcap to measure to find my left and right dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. Then they position the magnetic coils there and fire almost two thousand pulses per session to make the neurons fire and give me neurotransmitters and regulate them. (I may be explaining this poorly. Feel free to google!)
I will be completely honest with y'all: the first session was terrifying. I was all strapped into this atrocious thing, it was incredibly noisy (they have very good earplugs there and you are required to use them to protect your hearing, never fear), and it made my head and jaw tense up (they gave me a mouthguard and the jaw thing will likely go away in a week). It sounds like woodpeckers and feels like tiny hammers. It doesn't hurt, exactly, but it doesn't feel nice. It has the otherworldly buzzing sensation of a tattooing needle. I sat there unmoving except for the tears running down my face dampening my mask. The pulses continued every twenty seconds for about twenty minutes.
I hated that I had to do it. I hated my brain for putting me there. I hated the psychiatrist and technician there for doing this to me, and I hated myself for not taking it off and leaving.
However. The pain and oddness only happened a few seconds at a time, and it stopped as soon as the session was over. They had tissues at the ready. My husband told me how brave I was. We went home and ordered in and I got pasta and tiramisu. I reminded myself that I have been suicidal for twenty years. Can I not withstand eleven or twelve hours of intermittent magnetic zaps over 2-3 months to try to combat those twenty years?”
I continued those appointments until I had completed thirty-six of them in the span of three months. The mouthguard never went away. I kept it as a trophy. I had my last appointment on November 10, 2022.
It has now been one calendar year.
My depression and suicidal ideation did not go away immediately. And I think my depression is still there, it’s just easier.
But since January, my suicidal ideation has been gone.
Just gone.
In May, I wrote: “I haven’t been suicidal. For four months in a row. I don’t know if that means that TMS works for anybody but me, and I don’t know how long it’s going to work, and it doesn’t take away all the problems in my life. I’ve had fewer wake-up-crying days. Most of the time I’ve been at a four or under on my mental health scale, but I haven’t felt the need to categorize or journal to document my moods. I am having more good days.”
My friends say I’m more resilient lately. I still cry a lot, but it turns out I’m just a naturally weepy person.
I’m not getting a lot more done. I feel bad about that. I thought if I fixed my suicidal ideation, then maybe I’d be more productive because I wouldn’t be crying on the kitchen floor all the time.
I spend a lot of time confused and unsure. I spent a really long time living sort of pass/fail, as though I was telling myself, "okay, if everything doesn't work out I can just go home and wipe myself off the face of the planet!" And I'm taking that option off my table for myself. Now, I feel like I'm being graded with the rest of the other students, which is terrifying.
Living with the consequences of my actions, living long enough to suffer the indignities of aging, living long enough to see my partners die… It’s a lot to come to grips with.
I’m still glad I get to try.
