Stopping Medication, and worsening mental states

Edit -- written 27/05/08Last night I hacked at my arm with a razor. I didn't feel much better afterwards, which is unusual, so then I put needles into my veins, which did make me feel a lot better. And the source of this act of impulsive stupidity?? Usual story -- I'm angry; angry at myself. I decided, in my infinite wisdom; that the fluoxitine made no odds to how I felt or how I acted. I started back in October 2007 on 20mg, then upped it to 40mg, then it was recently upped to 60mg -- the maximum dose according to the BNF. But even on 60mg I didn't feel any different. I still felt like I wanted to cry a lot of the time, I still had the overriding urge to manipulate my insulin and I still obsessed about weight and thinness. So a couple of weeks ago I stopped it. I didn't feel any major differences, a little bit more teary perhaps but that was it. It was nice not having to take any tablets, because when I was swallowing three capsules each morning; it was like a constant reminder that I wasn't well, in my head. I went to see the lovely nurse practitioner at the GP surgery (I do try ad check in with her every 3-5wks as she's one of a few HCP's who actually know my full medical and mental health history, in all its long and complicated glory) and informed her of my non-medicated status. I think I had thought that she would be pleased for me, in"well done you're off anti-depressants and look at how well you're doing" kind of manner; but she wasn't. She wasn't impressed at all, was concerned that I had just stopped and not weaned myself off them at all, as apparently they can give nasty side effects. She told me I had been very fortunate not to have experienced these. I left feeling really upset, because I felt like I had let her down. She's never judgemental and I always feel like I can trust her. Therefore I want her to like me. Its all part of this thing I have whereby I want anyone who could pass me in the street and recall my name to like me. I wish I was one of those people who just didn't care what anyone else thought. You know the type, the confident people whose attitude is like "well this is who I am and if you don't like it f**k off. So many times I have been told not to worry about what other people think; but I just can't help it. Back to the nurse - in all the time I've known her I've never felt like she thought I was a lost cause, when I leave her office its feeling better than I did when I went in, she usually provides with some kind of hope that I am not a lost cause. But now I've ruined that relationship because now she thinks I'm stupid. She said that although I may not have felt any different. looking at it objectively in the 7 months I had been taking it; I had had one hospital admission; therefore suggesting perhaps it was doing something. I had not considered this at all.Written 02/06/08Worse of all, I am coming to the conclusion that perhaps I do need to be on it. My emotions are all over the shop. I have cried every day since I saw her. I have also been really, really angry something as well [more on that later].I don't feel so great at the moment, and I don't know what to do about it. What I'm supposed do is go and see either the diabetic nurse or the aforementioned nurse practitioner at the GP's, and talk about it. But I feel like they are both really busy and more than likely fed up of me and I just go round in circles and don't want to bother them with my innate commentary.For the past week my mind has been constantly occupied by thoughts of my own death. It is disturbing, and really bothering me. I wish there was a magic tablet which would shut your mind up. I don't want to go into detail here, but suffice to say, its not very nice. I'm not entirely sure I am in a suitable frame of mind to be in work; but because of my past I have an obsession with not being off sick. Also, I have good reason to believe that the senior sisters on the unit don't know anything about my mental health or medical past and I'm not in a hurry to alert them to the fact that perhaps all is not well.I know that resorting to self harm is not the real answer, but right now it is all that is working.As for my anger: on Friday I met a new colleague. She used to work on another ward in the hospital, the same ward that a previous housemate of mine worked on. I asked new colleague if she knew ex-housemate and the answer was yes. A short while later, new colleague asked me if I lived with my ex-housemate when she lived with "that mad girl" Yes, that was the exact terminology. Straight away I knew, I knew that the 'mad girl' was me [because it was when I lived with her that I took a serious overdose and spent 3 weeks on a medical ward and then got transferred to a psychiatric ward for a month and then came home and was okay for a bit and then took another big-ish overdose]. I put on my most vacant expression and was like "err, no?" and then new colleague unwittingly proceeded to tell me about this mad girl. "yeah, apparently she lived with this mental girl for a while; they had to drop her off at A+E all the time" That was as in depth as the conversation got. I had to pretend to need the loo so I could get off the unit for 5 minutes before I exploded. I was livid, absolutely furious. I can't believe she went into work and talked about me. I have worked so hard, so bloody hard to move on from the awful spring/summer of 2006 and this new job was a major part of that - going somewhere where I was inconspicuous and insignificant. Not known as someone who was off sick a lot, not thought of as a trouble causer. Yet here we go again, dragging the past into the present. Not to mention the fact I was having some kind of hyperventilation attack about how long it will take for this new colleague to put 2 and 2 together, work out that I am the mad girl, and spread the gossip. I have never hit or slapped anyone in my life, but I was ready to storm onto my ex-housemates ward and start with her that afternoon.I haven't done the being angry thing for a long time. These days, I just worry and occasionally cry. I think its pathetic but the up side is that when I am crying I am not a loose cannon, I just willow around in my own thoughts. In the past, when I was angry was when I was impulsive and more of a risk to myself. I was really angry for some months before I ended up in hospital. Being angry changes my whole body: by Friday afternoon I could feel myself all tensed up, my hands were naturally in a fist, and I was getting headaches. And the very awareness of the fact that I was angry was causing me to worry a bit. I had this continual mantra in my head for the rest of the day, something along the lines of "calm down, calm down. Don't do anything stupid" I managed to not go to the ward and create a scene. To summerise:-- I'm severely p****d off about my gosisping ex-housemate-- I'm very very worried that my new workmates are going to find out about my past-- I could kick myself in the head for making the nurse practitioner dissapointed in me-- I'm also annoyed that my head won't just SHUT UP for all of 5 minutes-- I've resorted to self harm as a coping mechanism. It works, but then I am more mad at myself-- I feel like I have no one to talk about all this withaaarrrggghhh