Tapering My Meds… in 2034?

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all! One of this week’s Writer’s Workshop prompts is to write a post based on the word “medications”. I will probably have another med review with the intellectual disability physician in a few weeks. The aim for me has always been to taper my medications. This will probably take until 2034 and this time my use of the year 2034 is only partially a joke. After all, when I said that “everything will be okay in 2034” and explained to the physician that I always say “2034” when I mean “never” (because of the fact that the book by this title is about World War III), the doctor didn’t understand the joke. She actually seriously said that I’ll be on the right med regimen by 2034.

Like I said, I’ll have another meeting with her to discuss tapering my meds in a few weeks I think. Although I’d really love to decrease my medication dosage sooner rather than later, I do realize that I’ve been struggling more than usual lately. I haven’t shared about this on the blog much, but over the past several weeks, I’ve had emotional outbursts almost every evening. Part of the reason is the fact that there were quite a few temp workers assigned to me. Thankfully, as of yesterday, it was agreed that the staff will no longer send unfamiliar temp workers to me. I am very happy about this.

However, I am also concerned that the temp workers might just be the reason my already irritable brain chose to act out. In other words, it could definitely have been the case that my latest med taper wasn’t all that sensible. For this reason, I have pretty much made up my mind that I will not take another step until January or so. That way, I’ll be able to give the new agreement about no unfamiliar temp workers a fair chance. All I can hope for is that, if I tell the physician I want a break, it won’t end up being an end to it all.

After all, I do still experience significant side effects from my medication, like what I think could be a movement side effect from my antipsychotic (significant tremors and twitches) and I don’t want this to end up being permanent. This is another reason I don’t want to seriously wait for 2034 to be off my antipsychotic. By 2034, I’ll be 48 and that’s too young for crippling movement disorders.

Act Your Age, Astrid?!

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today’s topic for Sunday Poser is the idea of acting our age. Society expects us to act a certain way depending on our age – not just behave quite responsibly past our mid-twenties or so, but also to wear certain clothes, listen to certain music, enjoy certain activities, etc. depending on our age. Do we generally conform to that expectation? A quick read through the comments on Sadje’s original post gave me the impression that, no, we don’t. And I personally certainly don’t.

With respect to the responsible behavior part, I have to admit, unlike the other participants, that I’m very much a child – no, a toddler – at heart. I still have significant temper outbursts, for instance. In fact, on my thirtieth birthday, I had an intense outburst and was adamant that I could no longer have those in my thirties. Well, my brain wouldn’t listen. It’s said that my emotional developmental level is comparable in many ways to that of an infant or young toddler.

In other ways, I’m still a child at heart too. I love unicorns, going on the swings at the institution playground and stuffed animals. I even talk to my stuffed animals at times.

Then in other areas, I do act my age or even older. I’m not keen on using my phone when doing another activity and get annoyed when my staff get constantly distracted by text messages. I don’t really do social media except for Facebook (which probably makes me appear really old). It isn’t that I haven’t tried, but I was rather late to the party with most platforms.

Of course, the fact that I use the singular pronoun “I” here, is a bit misguided too, since we’re a plural system and there are parts of all ages. This is probably one of the reasons that I can talk to my stuffed animals happily one moment, have a temper tantrum the next and be involved in an “old-fashioned” hobby later. I do sometimes wonder whether my parts are genuine alters or whether something like internal family systems could help them too. Then again, I’m not in therapy, IFS or otherwise, anyway.

Remembering the Onset of My Temper Outbursts

Posted on by Astrid

I have been a member of groups on the topic of disruptive mood dysregulation disorder (DMDD) for the past year or so. DMDD was introduced to the psychiatrist’s manual with DSM-5 in 2013. It is a condition in which a child or teen is irritable or angry most of the time and has severe temper outbursts on average at least three times a week for a period of at least twelve months. The diagnosis cannot be made in a child under six or a person over eighteen. This being the case, I’m not in these groups because I currently think I may have DMDD, but because I think I may’ve had it as a child.

According to my parents, I was just a little immature emotionally until the age of around seven. I switched schools, transferring from mainstream Kindergarten to a school for the visually impared, when I was nearly six in 1992. In 1993, I started to learn Braille. This is around the time my temper outbursts started. According to my parents, I wasn’t even regularly irritable up to that point. They describe me as a relaxed, cheerful child.

My own memories are hazy. Of course, I remember temper tantrums from before age seven, but what child doesn’t have those at times? Between the ages of seven and nine, my mood got worse and worse. I remember being suicidal at around the age of eight.

So was this DMDD? We will never know, as the diagnosis didn’t exist back in 1993. Was it, like my parents believe, a way of expressing my frustration with the fact that I was going blind? Was I being manipulative, also like my parents think? Trying to elicit care from my parents and professionals by acting out? Or was it a form of autistic burn-out? Had neurotypical developmental expectations overwhelmed my autistic brain?

Like I may’ve said, my parents don’t believe I’m autistic. They believe I have some traits, but not enough to impair my functioning or warrant a diagnosis. They say I’m just blind and of genius intelligence. And oh, the rest is just me trying to manipulate people for attention. They don’t seem to realize, then, that I, too, suffered from my irritability and anger outbursts.