It´s 05:00 AM. I´m wondering if maybe I should just try to stay awake today – it´ll be an impossible task, resulting in either a snoozefest or overwhelming anxiety. Either option is pretty terrible. If I sleep in until noon again, I´ll miss out on at least four hours of desperately needed daylight; daylight to quiet my agitated brain.
If instead I try to stay awake somehow, and I manage to get through the day without too many panic attacks, there is still a chance that I might not be able to sleep the next night – adding up to 48 hours of mind numbing semi consciousness. No matter which way I go, there is one priority – phoning into the GP office for another move.
The move, going on antidepressants, was one that I advocated two months ago yet never came to be because she thought it wise if I consulted with another set of therapists first, who concluded last week that my case wasn´t bad enough to qualify for light treatment therapy. Maybe you have to be suicidal before you´re considered.
Upon hearing the news – that I was fine – my GP was baffled for a moment. “Do you agree with this conclusion?” – she asked. I didn´t know what to say. If I told the truth, which was I am headed towards rock bottom, I´d be giving her and the gender team a golden ticket to state that testosterone did not result in my being completely stable.
Even though I think testosterone helped stabilize me for four months until light deprivation kicked in, they could wave this in my face, resulting in me having to pay for testosterone God knows how many more months and not being able to afford the rent. Furthermore she could use this to deny access to antidepressants on these grounds.
Somehow, the argument for me not taking medication which could help me, always boils down to “you have to be stable first”, even though it makes no sense in either case to wait until I´m fine (possibly never, at this rate). In either case, my own instinct is dismissed in favor of being analyzed and labeled some more.