Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Unreal reality

So much has happened over the last several months. I wish I'd kept up the posting on this blog during it all, but I didn't. Not sure why. So why, after all this time, am I posting now? Because I need to get this stuff out of my head and I have no one to talk to. I'm so alone and isolated. My stepson moved out a few months ago, so the only people I see now are Hubby and my therapist. My world has become a very small box and the longer I stay in it, the smaller it gets and the harder it is to get out of it.

The unreality is starting again. Curiously, this time around I'm not really seeing anything. It normally starts with hallucinations of objects breathing before progressing to the delusions. So far I haven't seen anything of the sort. It's jumped directly to the thoughts. I'm at the point where I know the way I'm thinking isn't right and I know that those thoughts aren't real or true, but they feel true. It feels right in my head. Eventually, if it isn't stopped, I'll progress to where I lose touch with reality. That's so scary. I'll totally believe in the delusions and the paranoia will make me not trust anyone enough to get help.

The paranoia is starting again as well. I started to panic in my therapist's office. The thought "They're gonna get me" just kept circling around and around in my head, going faster each time. She could see that I was starting to get very scared. She asked what I was doing because it looked to her like I was feeding it. I almost started to cry and said I don't know.

I was a little scared to tell her this stuff is starting up again. I almost didn't. I waited until most of the hour had passed, then I finally got the courage up to ask her how you can know something isn't true, but feel it is at the same time. I guess it was my chicken way of letting her know something is amiss. She got this look on her face. I'd definitely gotten her attention with that question.

She asked what I was referring to and after a bit of hesitation, I told her how I know the thought that "this world isn't real" isn't true, but that it makes perfect sense that it isn't real. It's so logical and obvious that it isn't real. Predictably, she asked when my next appointment with my psychiatrist is. It's in 2 weeks. She told me to let the nurses know that I'm getting manic and delusional again.

As she was writing my reminder for my next appointment, I couldn't help myself - I asked her one question. "It's not true, right?" I was needing reassurance that the world is real. She told me no it's not true, but she could see how scary the thought is. It was comforting. She wants to get it under control before I get to the point to where I don't trust anyone and stop telling them what I'm thinking and stop my meds because I think they're poisoned.

She asked if I thought I was becoming manic. I told her yes. I'm barely sleeping and my mind won't slow down. I have so many projects going. When she asked what they were, I couldn't get the words out of my mouth fast enough. I was speaking so fast and telling her so many things that she nodded and agreed that I'm getting manic. I told her that's when I have the thoughts.

When I was driving home from therapy today, I was looking at the world around me and it just felt fake. Like I wasn't a part of it, but separate. And I could sense "Them". I couldn't see Them, but I could feel Them. You know how you can feel when you're being watched? That's how I was feeling on the drive home.

As you can see from the length of this post, I'm definitely more talkative. I get that way when I'm manic. There's just so much in my head that I can't keep it inside. The problem is a lot of what's in my head right now is the ranting ravings of a lunatic who's becoming delusional. *sigh* I always thought that delusional people didn't know they were delusional. I was wrong.

It's 3 am and I'm wide awake. My days and nights are flipped again. I'm starting to think that They're keeping me awake. Messing with my sleep cycle. I'm thinking about calling my therapist and leaving her a message. I'm not sure why. I just feel the need to reach out to her. To tell her what my drive home was like.

Ok, I'm going to stop this entry now. I need to start some laundry.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Ariana, it's been a long time since you posted, but that's the way it is with us affected with BPD. We come and go in cycles, honey. It's feast or famine for us. Too much or too little.

I'm glad you're back and if you need someone to talk to that doesn't bill you, feel free to reach out.

CP.

Anonymous said...

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Anonymous said...

It's interesting how we feel the need to express these types of experiences .. it's like some hyperactive force is rushing us, no? leaving us very confortable with the idea of pouring this stuff out, so we can loose control since it is driving the preparations for writing the ideas.
We lock on to a section of our brain that feels almost fluid.. when giving priority to this driving force. Since it's so independent and powerful we can just cling to it, hook a string and let it do the thinking. Since it's so fast we become like monkeys selecting predigested ideas in form of pictures on cards.. pointing and saying "I want this one and that one" or "I want to get conscious of this idea .. and yes that one seems pretty nice and slick too".

The goal seems to be to mature that monkey into an intelligent human being, a creator. Instead of waiting for the next high tide we have to build a ship and go where nobody else would expect .. because let's face it .. they don't know shit