Helyna
Well-known member
Long story.
I had an unusually busy 10th grade year. Near the end, I pretty much lost all my energy. My mom took me to the doctor after about a month because I had been so energetic all year. She wanted me to be tested for mono and a hormone imbalance. (I still denied that anything was wrong.) I saw a nurse-practitioner who had known me my entire life and who insisted that there was nothing wrong with me and only tested me for mono. She claimed I had burnout and would get better in a few more weeks.
That summer was miserable. I constantly complained that I was too busy despite the fact that I had far less to do than most summers. All I wanted to do was sit in my room alone and write. I think part of the problem was that I was away from all my friends for five weeks (in France and Switzerland - you'd think I'd be delighted), and writer's block, as is common, came with depression, so I was extremely frustrated. My mom fell into depression worse than I ever had at the end of the summer, which didn't help me feel any better when I got back to school.
So I went to the same nurse practitioner again. I wanted help this time, I was so miserable. Once again, she insisted that I was fine and refused to test my hormones. She recommended that I see a counselor. The one she suggested to us turned out to not accept our insurance, and as my mom searched for another, I lost my brief desire to talk to anyone.
Almost a year after this started, with me feeling somewhat better but not much, my mom took me a third time. This time, she made sure I saw the MD at our office. And she agreed with us. She tested me for at least four things, including thyroid and sex hormones. The day the results came back, she told my mother that she wanted me to start birth control that day. She didn't want me to miss a single day. Yes, all that time, my mother was right. I did need hormone control. It took me about a week of birth control to feel more energetic than I had for most of a year. I still get bad days, but this feels so much better.
Moral of the story? Persist.
I had an unusually busy 10th grade year. Near the end, I pretty much lost all my energy. My mom took me to the doctor after about a month because I had been so energetic all year. She wanted me to be tested for mono and a hormone imbalance. (I still denied that anything was wrong.) I saw a nurse-practitioner who had known me my entire life and who insisted that there was nothing wrong with me and only tested me for mono. She claimed I had burnout and would get better in a few more weeks.
That summer was miserable. I constantly complained that I was too busy despite the fact that I had far less to do than most summers. All I wanted to do was sit in my room alone and write. I think part of the problem was that I was away from all my friends for five weeks (in France and Switzerland - you'd think I'd be delighted), and writer's block, as is common, came with depression, so I was extremely frustrated. My mom fell into depression worse than I ever had at the end of the summer, which didn't help me feel any better when I got back to school.
So I went to the same nurse practitioner again. I wanted help this time, I was so miserable. Once again, she insisted that I was fine and refused to test my hormones. She recommended that I see a counselor. The one she suggested to us turned out to not accept our insurance, and as my mom searched for another, I lost my brief desire to talk to anyone.
Almost a year after this started, with me feeling somewhat better but not much, my mom took me a third time. This time, she made sure I saw the MD at our office. And she agreed with us. She tested me for at least four things, including thyroid and sex hormones. The day the results came back, she told my mother that she wanted me to start birth control that day. She didn't want me to miss a single day. Yes, all that time, my mother was right. I did need hormone control. It took me about a week of birth control to feel more energetic than I had for most of a year. I still get bad days, but this feels so much better.
Moral of the story? Persist.
