>Autism makes a psychitrist’s job quite a tricky one. You’re trying to find out someone’s feelings, when the person in question can’t describe them to you. I think I would get frustrated, if I were the psychiatrist. I think maybe they did get a bit frustrated, not at me, but at the lack of information and being unable to help like they wanted to.
The first question was, am I really depressed? Maybe, because I was feeling rather hopeless. But maybe not, because I could laugh and smile at things just fine. But maybe so, because my concentration was absolutely gone. But maybe not, because I didn’t feel sad most of the time. But maybe so, because I had some pretty intense crying spells. See the problem? They can’t just ask me, because I don’t know. They had to look at my behavior, which could have gone either way. If the problem was straight up depression, they can explore other medication options or even ECT (electroconvulsive therapy). But if I’m not depressed, those other options have no chance of working.
In the end, I think they decided that it probably wasn’t depression, and kept me on the same meds with an increase. They increased the Celexa from 20mg to 80mg. Unfortunately, Celexa makes the few tics I have so much worse. And being on 80 rather than 20 doesn’t help the tics at all. So, my doctor also put me on Tenex to try to control the tics. Great. Psych med number 4. It hasn’t kicked in yet, but I wish it would.
I had thought that I would go to partial once I got home. My doctor talked with the doctor in charge of partial, though, and they decided that since I got a little overwhelmed by all the people and talking when I was there this summer, to the point that I had to leave the room every hour, they didn’t want to try that again. Instead, I’m going to see an outpatient therapist who specializes in Asperger’s, probably twice a week for a while. Between seeing him twice a week and going to my autism research study twice a week and seeing my regular therapist every two weeks, that should be enough structure to keep me occupied. I hope it is, anyway. I’ve also been volunteering at the animal shelter with the cats, taking them out of their cages and petting them. I go with my aunt. The cats are thrilled to be out for a while (most of them are, anyway; some are scared) and I’m thrilled to pet for a couple of hours. It’s good all around.