Off-bubble

I think my psychiatrist may be close to admitting me to the hospital again. This time it'd be because I can't freakin sleep. That and I'm manic as hell. :)

I'm really not looking forward to that if it's what comes to pass. That would be 3 times in the last 3 months. My pattern has always been about once every 2 years. This is getting ridiculous. February, March, and now April?

I wonder if I could fight it? I wonder if it'd be a 'voluntary only because I agree' admission or a truly voluntary one that is only if I want it. I wonder if there's any more he can do for me outpatient?

I get the sense that he's nearing the end of his repertoire. I hope not. I don't want to go inpatient again. I guess on the bright side, the doc at the hospital would finally realize that I'm not schizophrenic. LOL

The last two visits, she diagnosed me as schizophrenic, chronic paranoid type. I tried to tell them that I'm not schizophrenic, I'm bipolar with psychotic features. But it didn't get changed. My therapist likes to say that if I get a hair off-bubble from the middle that that's when I get psychotic. She's right. But I'm not psychotic now. Just manic.

I feel like I want to keep typing, but nothing else is coming up in my head, so I'm going to end this post and see what other trouble I can get into for the night. ;)

Sleep departs again

The mania started because I couldn't sleep, which really sucks because I had awesome sleeping habits at the time. I was actually going to bed by midnight and getting up by 8 am. I was falling right asleep and sleeping all the way through the night without waking up. But now...

It's so hard to fall asleep. I'm lucky if I get to sleep by 3 am. It's usually more like 4 am. I'm up by 7:30 to 8 in the morning. And to top it all off, I keep waking up. So basically I'm getting 3 to 4 hours of sleep a night, not counting all the times in between where I wake up.

Mania visits again

I'm manic again. I'm not sleeping, very sensual, and am full of risky behaviors. Spending, drinking, driving all Nascar-like, dressing more sexy than normal, sex sex sex... ;)

I'm so full of ideas, yet I can't concentrate well enough to do any of them. It's so frustrating. I'm infused to the core with creativity, yet I can't communicate it. I found a description of mania last night on the web and it fits perfectly. I wish I could take credit for it, but I can't. The author definitely knows how to play with words to convey mania perfectly, though.

At first when I'm high, it's tremendous. Ideas are fast... like shooting stars you follow until brighter ones appear. All shyness disappears, the right words and gestures are suddenly there. Uninteresting people and things become intensely interesting. Sensuality is pervasive, the desire to seduce and be seduced is irresistible. Your marrow is infused with unbelievable feelings of ease, power, well-being, omnipotence, euphoria... you can do anything... but somewhere this changes. The fast ideas start coming too fast and there are far too many. Overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. You stop keeping up with it. Memory goes. Infectious humor ceases to amuse. Your friends become frightened. Everything is now against the grain. You are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and trapped.

Unsure of what to do

I'm in a bit of a quandary. I recently opened up quite a bit with my therapist and doctor about my hallucinations and delusions. I must admit, it's very refreshing to be able to be so open and free when I'm with them now. I don't feel like I have to hide things for fear of their reaction. Except for now.

When I first opened the floodgates and let everything out, I did so in a letter to each of them. It was very long and detailed. I spilled everything that's been going on in my head for these past few years. Neither of them knew how extensive it all was. They admitted surprise at the scope of it. Unfortunately, I also ended up being hospitalized for my psychosis because I was convinced that my meds were poisoned and I wouldn't take them. Hence, the hospital stay to get me back on them.

The problem is that at the time I was discharged, I was sick and nauseous. I couldn't take my meds regularly. Often I would throw them right back up. Obviously they lost their hold on me quickly and I'm more lost than ever.

I want to tell them what I know. What I'm thinking. But I can't risk being hospitalized again right now. I have an important medical test coming up in 5 days and I really don't want to have to reschedule it. It was even scheduled so that the doctor doing it would still remember my case. He did the first part with unusual results, so this is the continuation of that test. When he rescheduled, he told me he wanted to see me quickly enough that he wouldn't forget what was going on. So you can see why I don't want to reschedule.

When I was in the hospital last month, it was for 6 days. I imagine that a return trip would last at least as long, if not longer. That's if I cooperate and play along with them. That's how I got out last time. I played the game. If I go in again, I don't want to play this time. I don't want to just say what they want to hear. I want to be true to my beliefs and convictions. I want them to see that I know what's really going on and that I truly understand the nature of my reality.

Meds can't change the fact of my situation. All they can do is make me forget for a while. And I don't know if I want to forget. It would mean living a lie. I don't want to live in ignorance of what's going on around me. Now if they could only figure out how to get me out of here, that would be great. I'd swallow that pill in a heartbeat! I want out of this nightmare that everyone calls reality. If only they really knew what was going on.

I don't know what to do.

Imagination run amok

I miss my friend in Canada soooo much. I haven't heard a peep from him since October of last year and before that it was April. It's been such a long time and I miss talking with him. :(

I've tried every way I know to reach him other than snail mail. If I don't hear anything from this last round of trying to reach him, I guess snail mail it'll be.

I hope he's ok. My mind has been going crazy coming up with all kinds of reasons as to why he hasn't contacted me...

He's having a hard time and is staying away for my protection...
He's having a hard time and is staying away because I make him worse...
He's forgotten about me...
He doesn't like me anymore...
"They" won't let him contact me...
He got married and his wife won't let him talk to me anymore...
He's dead...

I hope to god none of those are true... Please don't let him be dead. I know his fiance... she's nice and I think she liked me. I'm trying really hard not to fall into the delusion that They are interfering. As for the first 2, I hope he's not having a hard time. And as for the others, I'm working hard not to go there. We're very good friends and I like to think I know him well enough to know he wouldn't just toss me aside without so much as a goodbye. He's a better person than that.

Truth is I don't know why he's gone silent. All I know is it makes for an imagination gone wild wondering why. I hate not knowing.

I'm trying not to be upset with him for leaving me hanging like this. Maybe there's nothing he can do about it. I just hope I hear something soon. It doesn't even have to be directly from him. Just somebody PLEASE let me know what's going on and that he's ok.

The Tree

I met with my group therapist since my individual one isn't available right now and she asked me something no one had ever asked before. She asked if anyone has ever been able to completely convince me that my hallucinations and delusions aren't real. If there's always a little part of me that still believes them.

I'd never thought of it, but she's right. No one's ever been able to convince me 100% that it isn't real. And if I'm completely honest, it's always there in the back of my mind. It's only every so often that it flares up into full blown psychotic symptoms, but it's never completely gone either.

So I think I figured out why I don't want to leave my house. It's because they cut that damn tree down.

You'd think I'd be dancing for joy, but noooooo not me. Even though I hated that tree, now that it's gone I feel a sense of panic gnawing away under the surface. Now I don't know where They are. They could be anywhere. It's so freaking terrifying, not knowing where They are.

I can't remember if I've ever talked about "Them" in this blog. I'll have to go back and see. But the cliff notes version is there are 2 men that watch me when I get all psychotic-y. No one else can see them, but I can. And even when I can't, I can sense their presence. Anyways, They always hid behind that tree.

Listen to me... I sound like a lunatic. I know it's not real. They're not real. But yet I know They are. I know it is.

By the way, if you're wondering why I capitalize when I refer to Them, it's to differentiate from the usual they or them when I talk. And if I find that I've never explained this, I'll tell you all the very entertaining bedtime story that is my psychosis. It's a thrilling tale of mystery, intrigue, with a dash of sci-fi thrown in for good measure.

I can joke about it, laugh it off, and when I see the words I know how ridiculous it all sounds... but it's no less real to me. That's the scary part. You know, if I heard someone else say what's going on in my head, I'd most likely roll my eyes while thinking 'riiiiight, sure it's true'. Does that make me a hypocrite? Yeah, I think it does.

Ok, I'm going to bed now. If I keep thinking about this tonight, it's going to turn into more than whisperings in the back of my mind. It'll be full blown paranoia and delusions. I'm afraid it may already be heading in that direction.

Suicidal thoughts

Why do I keep going on? Is this all my life is supposed to be? I honestly can’t see anything worth looking forward to. Yeah, I’d like to grow vegetables, but let’s be honest. We all know it won’t work. Why do I even bother to keep going? My life is meaningless. I know Hubby loves me, and that means the world to me, but is it enough to keep going? I have no life outside of this house. I really don’t even have a life inside this house. All I do is sleep, play oblivion, run up bills we can’t afford to pay, and occasionally cook and clean. I'm to the point where the only time I leave the house is for a mental health appointment.

I’m no good for Hubby. Not as a wife, not even as a cook and maid. I should be changing what we eat so he’d be healthier, but I don’t. I should quit smoking so he can, but I don’t. I should keep the house clean because honestly, what other pressing matters do I have? None. But no, what do I do? I sleep fucked up hours, get up, play either oblivion or poker, or watch voyager episodes. Then when it gets late and he goes to bed, I scramble to get clothes washed so he doesn’t have to wear dirty clothes. I know he loves me but lots of people love someone who is bad for them.

I’m bad for Hubby. I’m bad for the cat. I’m so selfish and spoiled that I put my needs ahead of everyone else’s, even if their needs are important and mine aren’t. If I’m uncomfortable, I avoid doing what needs to be done. What kind of person does that? I’ll tell you. A bad person, that’s who. My mom died because I wasn't up to taking care of her the way she needed. I wasn't around enough for her. I'm a horrible person who doesn't deserve to breathe the air and consume the precious resources of our planet.

If I wasn’t such a chicken shit coward, I’d have ended it long ago. Why am I prolonging the suffering? Because I’m too afraid to go through with it. I’m too afraid of everything. I’m so scared that I won’t take chances with anything. I obsess over stupid things until I’m frozen into inaction out of fear. I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I hate the way I look, I hate the way I treat other people, I hate the way I think about other people. I’m so intolerant it’s unreal. I’m not a nice person if you were to look at the real me.

If my therapist or psychiatrist knew what I was thinking right now, they’d put me in the hospital this second. The temptation to take all of those pills is so strong right now. I don’t want this life anymore. The only good part of my life is Hubby. I want ME out of my life. To do that I’d have to change everything and I’m too fucking scared and lazy to do it. If I were really a kind person, I’d release the people in my life that I’m dragging down with me. They don’t deserve to have to put up with me. They deserve a good person in their lives. And while I know they would argue fiercely against what I’m saying, I know in their hearts they agree with me. They’re just too good to admit it. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up. Yeah they’d be hurt, but soon they’d realize just how lucky they are to have me out of their lives. Love really is blind. They’re all better off without me. I know I'm the only one who can see that truth, but it doesn't make it any less true.

I want my life to end. If I don’t stop feeling this way and thinking this way, it’s going to. I’m sick of this crap and I don’t want to continue to suffer this way and worse for the next 30 or more years. No one should have to feel and think this way. So I’m done. I can't do it tonight since I have an appointment in the morning, but after that I'm free.

I guess the question now is... do I have the courage to kill myself? Or will I resign my fate to never ending suffering and chaos? In this moment in time, my answer is I'll find the courage somehow.

The tiny voice of the instinct for survival is saying I really should be in the hospital. I'm not safe from myself. But if I go to the hospital that means once again I'm a coward. I've chickened out too many times. I want to be brave for once in my life and finally go through with it. I want to stop this pain. And to everyone this act would hurt, I would hope they'd remember that while it hurts like a bitch to pull the splinter out, it has to be done and the pain goes away afterward.