I always wondered what made me act the way I do when interacting with others. Especially when it has to do with first impressions, or speaking with beautiful or intelligent people. People I have assumed that are better than me.
Obviously, I am very self conscious to the point were it is slightly unhealthy. The mental breakthrough I had was far more complex than just realizing how self conscious I am.
I was sitting in DBT class. DBT has developed into an important aspect of my life to the point where going isn't really an option; its more like a necessity. However, the beginning of my epiphany occurred right before class when I was in therapy (both are at the same location which I love).
We began discussing why I think that people are ALWAYS judging me. I gave an example of how irrationally paranoid I get when I am driving and someone else is in the car. I hold my breath and drive like an overly cautious 75-year old because I automatically think my driving is being judged. However, the example I provided is mild compared to the rest of what I assume other people are judging me on.
First, I was born with one dominant eye and one very weak eye. Basically I rarely use both eyes when fixated on a specific object or having a conversation with someone. Television causes my eyes to cross because the left eye basically says, "Fuck it, this is too difficult." In addition, my eyes occasionally cross especially when I am tired. It doesn't effect activities such as driving because my brain is very aware that I need to use both of them an my peripheral vision is "fine." Driving at night is a bit difficult though.
Second, when I was in High School I auditioned and made the Dance Team (not to be confused with chearleading) and we performed and basketball games and at competitions. After my freshman year I was told that I was too fat to make the team the following year so basically I was kicked off. It was basically advertised that I was a fat ass all around the school and I was a huge joke...This cross-eyed girl that was a good dancer but too fat has been banned to dance for the school team. I was horrified. I obviously would have been fine if I just didn't make it but instead I was literally told "You are too fat to be on the team next year...we want taller, slender girls with smaller breasts that don't bounce." I cried myself to sleep. I had danced my whole life. I didn't know I was considered to be a fat dancer. I weighed 140 lbs with a muscular build. I will say that my chest was "very well blessed." But at that time, I didn't want my breasts. I wanted to rip them off and throw them away.
So, if that didn't sting enough, my anorexic mother told me she wanted to take me to get a breast reduction and put me on diet pills. I did not get the reduction but I did do what my mom told me to do regarding the pills and was taking 12 pills a day (chromium, ephedrine, laxatives, and diuretics). She also told me I should eat cabbage every day and when I got the shits she let me have a potato. I did not lose that much weight. I spiraled out of control and started ordering double lunches in the cafeteria, getting fast food and getting rid of the evidence, and when I was home, I would hide in the closet and eat. I was so depressed that I started eating chocolate chips and butterscotch morsels for baking. Sometimes I even hid and ate a bag of brown sugar or candy. Basically, I became an "over eater" because my body was so confused and I was pretty fucked up in the head. Since I was dancing 2-4 hours a day and weight lifting, I only gained like 5lbs and no one knew what I was hiding and doing. The damage was done. I have had an issue with food my whole life. I can't stop at 2 cookies or 1 piece of pizza. I have to coach myself to make correct decisions and count calories otherwise, and I'm not joking, I will eat 5,000 calories per day...sometimes more.
I still fall off the wagon to this day because my brain just does not understand self control. When I stopped working last year and was so depressed I quit exercising I gained 35lbs and QUICK. I rarely got out of bed. I still have issues today with over eating but I am back to exercising 4-5 days a week. I've lost 4lbs and I don't care how long it takes to lose more, I want to make better decisions again without being obsessive. I deserve to be healthy even though those women, including my mother, fucked me up in the head about my body image.
Last, I am constantly afraid of people looking at me because I am convinced they are judging me for my crooked teeth. I still have a baby tooth and it jacked with the left side of my smile. I don't want braces though because they are expensive and I don't want them to pull the baby tooth and have a hole in my mouth until brackets can pull the permanent tooth down. I was already told it would take years. I realize that its my decision to keep what I have but I am still self conscious about it.
So, combine those three things (especially the second one) and I am convinced that every person I interact with is staring at my fat rolls, laughing at my crossed eyes, and grossed out by my teeth. I have hated myself since all of this stuff happened over the years. Miserable. Embarrassed. Just plain shitty. I literally avoid eye contact or constantly move my hair around trying to cover one eye or put my hands in front of my mouth. I look completely ridiculous and twitchy with all of this going on. Then it snowballs into being embarrassed about being embarrassed and its a vicious circle continues. I am actually annoyed by it.
So I broke it down, made a list, and then had a conversation with myself in the mirror about how I can make an effort to change each of these issues or just accept the way I was made. It's the beginning of this process, but I want to love myself again. I truly hope it comes true because for the first time since I was diagnosed I think I deserve it. Its about damn time that I broke this down and took a hard look at what causes my anxiety. I am in control of so much more than I ever thought and I must say, its a pleasant surprise.
Thanks for listening,
Truthaboutcrazy
Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental illness. Show all posts
Friday, February 3, 2012
Monday, December 12, 2011
Beautiful Scars
Beautiful Scars
(V1)
Little Heart
Don't you die
You were the only light
that kept my soul alive
Happy Tears
Why'd you fall
Now you can't feel
anything at all
(Pre-chorus)
And the people passing by say
"Oh what a shame.
She's just an empty shell now
could've had everything."
(Chorus)
But a pretty face is nothing
once it turns to glass.
You know, I thought she truly loved me,
but it didn't last.
A tounge so sharp
it could cut through steel
inconsiderate of the way I feel
I Didn't know...
It would be so easy...
To walk away.
To run away.
with a smile on my face.
(V2)
Little girl
Don't you hide
Your scars are still beautiful
Even in my eyes.
Angry Tears
They never lie
There's a strength in you
It'll help you to survive
(Pre-Chorus)
Screw those people walking by that say
"Oh what a shame.
She's just an empty shell now
could've been anything."
(Chorus)
But your pretty face is nothing
once it turns to glass.
I tried to save the pieces
but it didn't last.
A tounge so sharp
it could cut through steel
inconsiderate of the way I feel
I Didn't know it would be
so easy...
To walk away.
To run away.
with a smile on my...
:(Bridge):
Hanging from that pedestal
That was so high!
Used to be so strong and honest
Now you won't even try!
(Bridge 2)
Nobody's perfect...
Don't feel ashamed.
But you'll lose your loved ones...
Playin' that manipulative game.
(Repeat chorus)
Didn't want to walk away.
Didn't want to run away.
But to survive
Needed to revive
The missing smile...from...my...face...
(V1)
Little Heart
Don't you die
You were the only light
that kept my soul alive
Happy Tears
Why'd you fall
Now you can't feel
anything at all
(Pre-chorus)
And the people passing by say
"Oh what a shame.
She's just an empty shell now
could've had everything."
(Chorus)
But a pretty face is nothing
once it turns to glass.
You know, I thought she truly loved me,
but it didn't last.
A tounge so sharp
it could cut through steel
inconsiderate of the way I feel
I Didn't know...
It would be so easy...
To walk away.
To run away.
with a smile on my face.
(V2)
Little girl
Don't you hide
Your scars are still beautiful
Even in my eyes.
Angry Tears
They never lie
There's a strength in you
It'll help you to survive
(Pre-Chorus)
Screw those people walking by that say
"Oh what a shame.
She's just an empty shell now
could've been anything."
(Chorus)
But your pretty face is nothing
once it turns to glass.
I tried to save the pieces
but it didn't last.
A tounge so sharp
it could cut through steel
inconsiderate of the way I feel
I Didn't know it would be
so easy...
To walk away.
To run away.
with a smile on my...
:(Bridge):
Hanging from that pedestal
That was so high!
Used to be so strong and honest
Now you won't even try!
(Bridge 2)
Nobody's perfect...
Don't feel ashamed.
But you'll lose your loved ones...
Playin' that manipulative game.
(Repeat chorus)
Didn't want to walk away.
Didn't want to run away.
But to survive
Needed to revive
The missing smile...from...my...face...
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
I'm a Judgemental Bitch
Hey! I haven't been blogging the past few weeks because I have developed a video blog project for YouTube. But, I cannot live without typing out my thoughts instead of just blabbing to a web cam. It's nice to have options...
Soo...let's get down to dishing the dirt in the land of crazy. Sometimes I think craziness follows me. Well, that and my poor or impulsive decisions. The following story I wouldn't call a poor decision. I much rather choose to call this an "impulsive" decision. For those of you all who have not seen the vlog or have not been on twitter, I went to detox from benzos (xanax) last week. Just looking over the time I spent writing about xanax, the poems, talking about it, etc. finally made me ask the question, "Who am I without the xanax?" I take a bunch of other shit now, anyway and my Dr. is weaning me off of them so technically I needed to do this. She suggested that I did it at home the slower way instead of doing it in a quick five days. But, I am impatient and I always try to speed things up.
After carefully researching and going through my selection process I found a facility that would concentrate on my psychiatric needs while I detoxed from benzos the HEALTHY way. What happened next couldn't possibly been made up by the best comedians on the planet....
I entered with a suitcase and a pillow. Immediately I was approached with a stack of bullshit paperwork because that is exactly what crazy people on drugs want to do when they are about to detox. It took a motherfucking 7 hours to get through all of the tests, examinations, and verbal abuse by a bunch of self absorbed case workers and IGNORANT nurses!
Intake:
My first impression:
The Icing on the Cake:
He told me I shouldn't leave but he couldn't keep me. "You should stay. You can't just go cold turkey." I said I agreed that cold turkey causes horrible side effects, listed them, and then said that I had 125 benzos at home (that were about to be flushed down the toilet if detox was successful) and I will wean myself off slowly without a fucking horse tranquilizer or whatever they gave me that DID NOT WORK.
"How are you going to do that? You will just take them all and OD when you leave."
"NO. LH dispenses 3 a day and then will do 2 a day and then 1 a day until they are gone in about 6 weeks."
"Can she be trusted?" he said.
"FUCK YOU. She worked in a mental health facility in the middle of the desert for 5 years before coming to Nashville. She did intake for Schizophrenia patients that stopped taking their meds and began self medicating." "Do you know what that is like dip shit?" He did not like being called dip shit but I did not like having my integrity questioned.
I'm a judgemental bitch again because after meeting everyone at the facility I realized that the most knowledgeable person on mental health and drug related issues lived in the SAME HOUSE that I lived in.
I love that woman. I drag her through the mud with my ridiculous delusions and antics and she still stands up for me. I called her, she called a babysitter, she was there 1hr later to "rescue me" from that hell hole or, should I say, IGNORANCE. She questioned me a bit on the way home, dealt with my withdrawals by pulling over when I needed to get sick, etc. until we got home and then snapped a benzo in half. She tossed it in my mouth and grunted, "Drink. I'm tired, dammit."
We went to bed. I am so dramatic but I learned a valuable lesson. YOU CAN'T cut corners and try to detox off of something your Dr. gave you 6 weeks to do at home. I thought I had no self control to do this. I just wanted it to be OVER!!!!
As it stands, I am down to 2.5 mg per day. I am no longer taking them for anxiety and panic but for withdrawal purposes only. I am doing well. I do flip out if I sleep too long and wake up in a cold sweat with tremors. I slept in yesterday and was very ill but I worked through it. I am not going to lie. I am so scared that I am going to have a panic attack and no benzos to get me through it. BUTTTT I hate to admit it. I haven't cut since that crazy detox day and I have only had 2 panic attacks. I have more energy and the wife says that she can "see the life in my eyes again." So, that's amazing!! Now if only we can get the random crying, anger management, delusions, and self hatred under control! ::Sigh:: I know, kids. ONE THING AT A TIME.
WATCH MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL "THE TRUTH ABOUT CRAZY"
Judgementally Yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Soo...let's get down to dishing the dirt in the land of crazy. Sometimes I think craziness follows me. Well, that and my poor or impulsive decisions. The following story I wouldn't call a poor decision. I much rather choose to call this an "impulsive" decision. For those of you all who have not seen the vlog or have not been on twitter, I went to detox from benzos (xanax) last week. Just looking over the time I spent writing about xanax, the poems, talking about it, etc. finally made me ask the question, "Who am I without the xanax?" I take a bunch of other shit now, anyway and my Dr. is weaning me off of them so technically I needed to do this. She suggested that I did it at home the slower way instead of doing it in a quick five days. But, I am impatient and I always try to speed things up.
After carefully researching and going through my selection process I found a facility that would concentrate on my psychiatric needs while I detoxed from benzos the HEALTHY way. What happened next couldn't possibly been made up by the best comedians on the planet....
I entered with a suitcase and a pillow. Immediately I was approached with a stack of bullshit paperwork because that is exactly what crazy people on drugs want to do when they are about to detox. It took a motherfucking 7 hours to get through all of the tests, examinations, and verbal abuse by a bunch of self absorbed case workers and IGNORANT nurses!
Intake:
- filled out paperwork until I thought my hand was going to fall off. This was to be expected I was aware that intake was not a walk in the park
- Getting yelled at by a nurse because she didn't know what "co-occurring illness" meant. (even though it was on the brochure.
- When I told her I had Borderline Personality Disorder she said, "Well who am I talking to now?" and shook her head at me...I realized she didn't know what that meant either and that she thought I had multiple personality disorder.
- Advised the nurse the DSM-IV description of BPD and she actually told me I didn't know what I was talking about!
My first impression:
- I couldn't help but to have an internal meltdown when my designated nurse told me she had just gotten out of prison "6 weeks ago." I guess I am a judgemental bitch because I became extremely paranoid.
- I met the other women. 50% prostitutes and 50% permanently damaged from EXTREME drug use. They were as nice as they could be, I suppose, but I guess that's what makes me a judgemental bitch again. I couldn't fathom walking the streets for drug money. (we are talking low class hookers folks...not escorts...lol).
- My understanding was that we would not chat about drugs the whole time because that makes the clock tick slower. I was incorrect because even the 4 nurses were talking about the "fun" times and such.
- I was asked if I had kids. I said yes. This old lady told me, "You'll be back here again and one day the state is going to take away your child for being fucked up. Trust me!" If she didn't look so stupid and if I were in public I would have punched her in the fucking kidney. So instead I bit my tongue off (sarcastic smile).
- My body began to go into withdrawal and I started twitching and getting faint. My arms started to tingle and it felt like there were "bugs in my brain."
- I was given a tranquilizer, a plastic pillow, 4 other mystery pills, and told to go lay down until 6 a.m. (bullshit)
- We went outside to a smoking area that looked more like a cage. Completely visible to the street. Although I had quit for the most part I shoved a ciggie in my face so damn fast.
- One of the girls starts making a bird noise, "CA CAW, CA CAW" like a fucking crow.
- I turn and look and there is a drug deal going on in the parking lot. She was trying to "score" thru the chain link fence. (I bolted inside).
- After that wonderful experience we sat at a table and chatted. Everyone "started to feel the meds" kicking in. I looked confused.
- Staring at all of the zombies, I feel nothing. The zombies asked, "Do you feel it??...pretty good huh?"
- I felt nothing except that the tingling and twitching stopped..."You don't feel drowsy?" This seemed to confuse the Zombies. I was confused too.
- Someone actually said, "She must be a hardcore junkie."
- I laughed inside my head. I am a hardcore cheeseball, spaz, and silly chatterbox, but I am so stupid when it comes to drugs. I just wanted to make an attempt to get better.
- Lastly, I "went to bed."
The Icing on the Cake:
- Trembling, I finally fell asleep only to be woken up 45 minutes later to the bitch nurse yelling at me. Apparently I forgot to sign one piece of paper or some shit.
- My "roommate" dropped her dentures on the floor and started shouting. She located the dentures and fell back asleep. She had sleep apnea. I thought she was dying with every breath she took.
- Again, me the judgemental bitch, I am sickened by the denture incident and she begins shouting (she thought she was being robbed in her sleep) and I vomit in the trash can.
- I leave the room and start pounding some water. One of the nurses yells, "Get back in bed! How are you awake and functioning?" I replied, "I dunno," like some dumb idiot.
- Nurse "Bitch" whispered to Nurse "former prisoner" that she needs to be careful around me. "Thats that girl we are going to end up sending to the psych ward because she has that split-personality condition thing."
He told me I shouldn't leave but he couldn't keep me. "You should stay. You can't just go cold turkey." I said I agreed that cold turkey causes horrible side effects, listed them, and then said that I had 125 benzos at home (that were about to be flushed down the toilet if detox was successful) and I will wean myself off slowly without a fucking horse tranquilizer or whatever they gave me that DID NOT WORK.
"How are you going to do that? You will just take them all and OD when you leave."
"NO. LH dispenses 3 a day and then will do 2 a day and then 1 a day until they are gone in about 6 weeks."
"Can she be trusted?" he said.
"FUCK YOU. She worked in a mental health facility in the middle of the desert for 5 years before coming to Nashville. She did intake for Schizophrenia patients that stopped taking their meds and began self medicating." "Do you know what that is like dip shit?" He did not like being called dip shit but I did not like having my integrity questioned.
I'm a judgemental bitch again because after meeting everyone at the facility I realized that the most knowledgeable person on mental health and drug related issues lived in the SAME HOUSE that I lived in.
I love that woman. I drag her through the mud with my ridiculous delusions and antics and she still stands up for me. I called her, she called a babysitter, she was there 1hr later to "rescue me" from that hell hole or, should I say, IGNORANCE. She questioned me a bit on the way home, dealt with my withdrawals by pulling over when I needed to get sick, etc. until we got home and then snapped a benzo in half. She tossed it in my mouth and grunted, "Drink. I'm tired, dammit."
We went to bed. I am so dramatic but I learned a valuable lesson. YOU CAN'T cut corners and try to detox off of something your Dr. gave you 6 weeks to do at home. I thought I had no self control to do this. I just wanted it to be OVER!!!!
As it stands, I am down to 2.5 mg per day. I am no longer taking them for anxiety and panic but for withdrawal purposes only. I am doing well. I do flip out if I sleep too long and wake up in a cold sweat with tremors. I slept in yesterday and was very ill but I worked through it. I am not going to lie. I am so scared that I am going to have a panic attack and no benzos to get me through it. BUTTTT I hate to admit it. I haven't cut since that crazy detox day and I have only had 2 panic attacks. I have more energy and the wife says that she can "see the life in my eyes again." So, that's amazing!! Now if only we can get the random crying, anger management, delusions, and self hatred under control! ::Sigh:: I know, kids. ONE THING AT A TIME.
WATCH MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL "THE TRUTH ABOUT CRAZY"
Judgementally Yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Thursday, October 20, 2011
This one is for the ladies...
OR this one is for the men who want a bit more insight on the ladies........
I've noticed that there is a topic we haven't really touched on the topic of PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) is a topic that most of us have heard of or know a bit about but I was baffled when I noticed the link between PMDD and its contribution to all types of mental illnesses.
Now, the good news? You will notice that your body will bounce back 1-2 days before your cycle or the day that you start. Also, only 8 - 13% of women have this disorder and more than likely we don't all have it. I found out when I went from working out 4-5 days a week at a healthy weight and eating well to not following my regimen. I haven't been so consistent and my Dr. and I have had several long discussions about this ddisorder. He does not know too many people that have this disorder since only 1 out of 10 of his female patients actually show the signs.
Next, he had me keep a journal about my sleep, emotions and behaviors the week before my cycle. No, I did not keep a journal but I basically logged it in my head and updated him with the information. He knew without a doubt that I had this and I was diagnosed because I observed one very important piece of documentation....MY BLOG. Even though it was a bunch of blah blah blah it painted this visual for me. Twitter actually helped too. I noticed different behaviors depending on the week, it indicated when I was suicidal, and it pointed out when most of my panic attacks occurred. Moving forward, I know this is going to totally help my life, my family (on the bad days), and I hope it helps you too!!!!!
So, if you can relate to a lot of this information provided, you may want to take notice during "that time." You may not just be "dramatic and emotional" such as experience regular PMS (ugh). In addition, another way to confirm PMDD is to get your pituitary gland checked out and your thyroid. The two additional tests can basically confirm if you have this or not.
How can I prevent the symptoms or lower the effects?
fascinating regards,
Truthaboutcrazy
I've noticed that there is a topic we haven't really touched on the topic of PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) is a topic that most of us have heard of or know a bit about but I was baffled when I noticed the link between PMDD and its contribution to all types of mental illnesses.
- PMDD causes depression; however, if you have already been diagnosed with depression or any mental disease or disorder it worsens the symptoms.
- In addition, it causes extreme disinterest in daily activities, out of control behavior, binge eating, and more importantly SUICIDAL tendencies during the last part of the menstrual cycle.
- Irritability, Extreme Anxiety, and SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) are additional factors that are ELEVATED for those diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder (I or II), Depression, Schizophrenia, Multiple Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and ESPECIALLY individuals who suffer from a mental illness and INSOMNIA.
- The complete sleep cycle is impacted by PMDD. It may be insomnia BUT it may also have the opposite effect...extended periods of sleep and when you are actually awake you feel like a slug.
Now, the good news? You will notice that your body will bounce back 1-2 days before your cycle or the day that you start. Also, only 8 - 13% of women have this disorder and more than likely we don't all have it. I found out when I went from working out 4-5 days a week at a healthy weight and eating well to not following my regimen. I haven't been so consistent and my Dr. and I have had several long discussions about this ddisorder. He does not know too many people that have this disorder since only 1 out of 10 of his female patients actually show the signs.
Next, he had me keep a journal about my sleep, emotions and behaviors the week before my cycle. No, I did not keep a journal but I basically logged it in my head and updated him with the information. He knew without a doubt that I had this and I was diagnosed because I observed one very important piece of documentation....MY BLOG. Even though it was a bunch of blah blah blah it painted this visual for me. Twitter actually helped too. I noticed different behaviors depending on the week, it indicated when I was suicidal, and it pointed out when most of my panic attacks occurred. Moving forward, I know this is going to totally help my life, my family (on the bad days), and I hope it helps you too!!!!!
So, if you can relate to a lot of this information provided, you may want to take notice during "that time." You may not just be "dramatic and emotional" such as experience regular PMS (ugh). In addition, another way to confirm PMDD is to get your pituitary gland checked out and your thyroid. The two additional tests can basically confirm if you have this or not.
How can I prevent the symptoms or lower the effects?
- Take extra calcium, magnesium, B6 and B12 vitamin supplements the week before and the week of your cycle.
- exercise...even if it is going for a few simple walks (those help with damn cramps anyways).
- Drink your tea and get plenty of antioxidants.
- cut down on alcohol and caffeine (ewww yeah right).
- Birth Control may help
- Diuretics (that one surprised me)
fascinating regards,
Truthaboutcrazy
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Guilty
When I was 14 I obtained my first job. My parents divorced, and we couldn't live the lifestyle we once had. I wanted to continue my passion though. Dance and Music...
Age 14: I became a dance teacher's assistant. I taught 3-5 year olds cartwheels and other cute little moves. The pay? Free dance class for my age group and two additional performances included in our recital. I also received a discount on my brother's acrobatic class by ballet dancing with girls my age that had special needs. I continued to teach until I was able to get a "job."
Root Cause: Make my parents proud of me. Help their financial situation.
Age 16: Two weeks after my birthday I immediately began to work. I got my license to drive and took a job as a hostess downtown. Fearlessly I left the suburbs almost daily, parked in a parking garage with piss in the stairway, and walked to a lovely restaurant almost nightly, left late, went to sleep and then went to school. Normal.
Root Cause: My dad helped me get my first job. Be a good girl.
Age 17 - 19: School was getting tough. I needed to switch to part-time. I became a janitor for two years and a cashier at the local market. I didn't mind a messy job. I was making more money than anyone else I went to school with.
Root Cause: Self gratification. Oh yeah, and some really good weed.
Age 20: After that I became a waitress, went to college, dropped out because I became pregnant by a convicted felon that I had no idea was a felon or that there was a warrant out for arrest. He molested me and would get high and light my underwear on fire when he was high because the crack (that my naive ass had no idea he was doing) made him paranoid. He said it was "tainted by other men."
Age 20-21: Then I had my son, went back to work 3 weeks later which is kinda against the law because you aren't supposed to work unless yo are released by a doctor. I started stocking shelves and carrying heavy crates when I wasn't healed yet. But, my son needed diapers. When I was "home" he locked me in a closet sized spare room. I breastfed my son when he was hungry and pumped extra milk for him to consume when I went to work. He only let me hold my son when I fed him. He was taken away from me when I was done. Sometimes I would lie and say he was still feeding to prolong the inevitable. When my son went to sleep, I was abused. I would take prescription pain medication to make the pain go away. I passed out and he went to buy drugs and use. It didn't take long for me to wake up and realize that I had worked my whole life and I left him and moved in with my father. He stalked me for awhile but after he beat the crap out of me I took pictures of the bruises and got a court order for him to stay the "eff" away.
Root Cause: I've always worked, therefore popping out a child that has NEEDS requires someone to pull the weight.
Age 21 - 25: I went back to online school part-time and got a decent job. I graduated in 2007 while simultaneously receiving 4 promotions at the same company. I didn't know much but I learned quickly and kicked ass at what I did. In addition, I met my "LLBFF" and my wife. Life was good and half the time I didn't even realize how good it was. My son's aunt took him every other weekend for supervised visits with his dad who was clean (for a little while). We partied, threw money down at the bar like it was toilet paper we wiped our asses with, and had killer bodies. At work, we were unstoppable. It pissed so many people off that the two smartest girls in the department were also HOT and had great personalities. We were a small close inner circle and didn't need to string people along that didn't matter. Meanwhile, my wife went from a temporary worker to an invaluable component to the business. Again, we were all LOUD, HOT, FUN, and SUCCESSFUL.
Root Cause: Validation. I finally made it? Satisfaction. We all had overcome so much.
Age 25: Diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder, Insomnia, and Bipolar Type 2 disorder. I was manic and depressed at the same time (damn I miss mania). My disorder has evolved since then but whatever...Anyways I was still working. A member of leadership at this point. I was responsible for 18 - 22 people and myself...haha...could barely take care of myself. When I was first given Xanax, I was so manic it didn't even "work." I didn't take extra because I didn't know how "exciting" how it would be in the future. My wife was promoted again, we bought a house, my son started reading when he was 3. Life was good. House parties, shopping sprees, people were jealous of me...but secretly I was ill...
Root Cause: Everyone I know thinks I am successful. Don't "eff" this up.
Age 26: Lost my job. Lost some friends. Lost my future wife for 2 months (can't mess with fate people). Started taking Zoloft and "ripped my kin off" and then Abilify aka the devil...that didn't last long. I went on unemployment, stopped partying so much, submerged myself in my son's school work and went to "the home" twice (see previous post the breakdown, the home, and the Indian).
Root Cause: Legally Insane
Now: I don't even know. I have so many ideas that fear keeps me from executing. Aren't people with bipolar disorder supposed to be entrepreneurs? (lol)
Root Cause: It's complicated.
In closing, my relationship has completely changed dynamics. I need an additional therapist. Somehow, my wife has turned into my parent. When I was working (until yesterday) I was a failure. I was behind on the laundry, the dust began to accumulate because when I was unemployed I cleaned the house more (naturally). I didn't pay a bill or two on time...I am talking a few days off PEOPLE...she is such a perfectionist. I realize now that was one of the reasons that attracted me to her and it has become a standard that I cannot even satisfy. I am not perfection. In fact, I FIND PERFECTION IN IMPERFECTION (remember that...its kinda my famous quote and stuff). Unfortunately, I drive her crazy daily. She holds it in until finally there is a volcanic eruption. She has told me that she feels like a single parent that has to parent me and my son. What? This, I was not aware of...no offense, dear, but our son would be malnourished without you...no one can live off of ham sandwiches and hamburger helper....UGGGHHHERRREEGGGG!
However, she is my hero. If she feels like my parent it is because I placed her there. In my eyes she is on a pedestal that I cannot reach. I stretch, stand on my tippy toes, only to fall on the floor in shame. This situation is nobodies fault. This is what happens when you have two extremely ambitious and loving people that happen to express themselves in two incredibly different ways. Currently, I am jobless (again, as of yesterday). I was afraid to tell her. I was literally petrified because I knew I would feel GUILTY, SHAME, AND ANGER. Why? Why, do I feel this way. She is a good person. She is not abusive. She loves me very much. WHY do I disappoint her to the point that I feel like slitting my wrists.
When you have a mental illness, everyone else in your life has a mental illness too. A mental illness impacts every person you love. They may not understand that is why they are so angry and confused. They may not understand why they want to put their fist through a wall. But they do...they may...and they stick around because they love us. Remember, if they are frustrated, throw a fit, etc. but do not leave (permanently) it is because they love you. Just as hard as it is for us to express ourselves, for us to suffer, and for us to try not to flip out. They are suffering too. Some say a characteristic of mental illness is selfishness. It is, not on purpose, but it is, because we forget that everyone else is suffering too.
Selfconciously yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Age 14: I became a dance teacher's assistant. I taught 3-5 year olds cartwheels and other cute little moves. The pay? Free dance class for my age group and two additional performances included in our recital. I also received a discount on my brother's acrobatic class by ballet dancing with girls my age that had special needs. I continued to teach until I was able to get a "job."
Root Cause: Make my parents proud of me. Help their financial situation.
Age 16: Two weeks after my birthday I immediately began to work. I got my license to drive and took a job as a hostess downtown. Fearlessly I left the suburbs almost daily, parked in a parking garage with piss in the stairway, and walked to a lovely restaurant almost nightly, left late, went to sleep and then went to school. Normal.
Root Cause: My dad helped me get my first job. Be a good girl.
Age 17 - 19: School was getting tough. I needed to switch to part-time. I became a janitor for two years and a cashier at the local market. I didn't mind a messy job. I was making more money than anyone else I went to school with.
Root Cause: Self gratification. Oh yeah, and some really good weed.
Age 20: After that I became a waitress, went to college, dropped out because I became pregnant by a convicted felon that I had no idea was a felon or that there was a warrant out for arrest. He molested me and would get high and light my underwear on fire when he was high because the crack (that my naive ass had no idea he was doing) made him paranoid. He said it was "tainted by other men."
Age 20-21: Then I had my son, went back to work 3 weeks later which is kinda against the law because you aren't supposed to work unless yo are released by a doctor. I started stocking shelves and carrying heavy crates when I wasn't healed yet. But, my son needed diapers. When I was "home" he locked me in a closet sized spare room. I breastfed my son when he was hungry and pumped extra milk for him to consume when I went to work. He only let me hold my son when I fed him. He was taken away from me when I was done. Sometimes I would lie and say he was still feeding to prolong the inevitable. When my son went to sleep, I was abused. I would take prescription pain medication to make the pain go away. I passed out and he went to buy drugs and use. It didn't take long for me to wake up and realize that I had worked my whole life and I left him and moved in with my father. He stalked me for awhile but after he beat the crap out of me I took pictures of the bruises and got a court order for him to stay the "eff" away.
Root Cause: I've always worked, therefore popping out a child that has NEEDS requires someone to pull the weight.
Age 21 - 25: I went back to online school part-time and got a decent job. I graduated in 2007 while simultaneously receiving 4 promotions at the same company. I didn't know much but I learned quickly and kicked ass at what I did. In addition, I met my "LLBFF" and my wife. Life was good and half the time I didn't even realize how good it was. My son's aunt took him every other weekend for supervised visits with his dad who was clean (for a little while). We partied, threw money down at the bar like it was toilet paper we wiped our asses with, and had killer bodies. At work, we were unstoppable. It pissed so many people off that the two smartest girls in the department were also HOT and had great personalities. We were a small close inner circle and didn't need to string people along that didn't matter. Meanwhile, my wife went from a temporary worker to an invaluable component to the business. Again, we were all LOUD, HOT, FUN, and SUCCESSFUL.
Root Cause: Validation. I finally made it? Satisfaction. We all had overcome so much.
Age 25: Diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder, Insomnia, and Bipolar Type 2 disorder. I was manic and depressed at the same time (damn I miss mania). My disorder has evolved since then but whatever...Anyways I was still working. A member of leadership at this point. I was responsible for 18 - 22 people and myself...haha...could barely take care of myself. When I was first given Xanax, I was so manic it didn't even "work." I didn't take extra because I didn't know how "exciting" how it would be in the future. My wife was promoted again, we bought a house, my son started reading when he was 3. Life was good. House parties, shopping sprees, people were jealous of me...but secretly I was ill...
Root Cause: Everyone I know thinks I am successful. Don't "eff" this up.
Age 26: Lost my job. Lost some friends. Lost my future wife for 2 months (can't mess with fate people). Started taking Zoloft and "ripped my kin off" and then Abilify aka the devil...that didn't last long. I went on unemployment, stopped partying so much, submerged myself in my son's school work and went to "the home" twice (see previous post the breakdown, the home, and the Indian).
Root Cause: Legally Insane
Now: I don't even know. I have so many ideas that fear keeps me from executing. Aren't people with bipolar disorder supposed to be entrepreneurs? (lol)
Root Cause: It's complicated.
In closing, my relationship has completely changed dynamics. I need an additional therapist. Somehow, my wife has turned into my parent. When I was working (until yesterday) I was a failure. I was behind on the laundry, the dust began to accumulate because when I was unemployed I cleaned the house more (naturally). I didn't pay a bill or two on time...I am talking a few days off PEOPLE...she is such a perfectionist. I realize now that was one of the reasons that attracted me to her and it has become a standard that I cannot even satisfy. I am not perfection. In fact, I FIND PERFECTION IN IMPERFECTION (remember that...its kinda my famous quote and stuff). Unfortunately, I drive her crazy daily. She holds it in until finally there is a volcanic eruption. She has told me that she feels like a single parent that has to parent me and my son. What? This, I was not aware of...no offense, dear, but our son would be malnourished without you...no one can live off of ham sandwiches and hamburger helper....UGGGHHHERRREEGGGG!
However, she is my hero. If she feels like my parent it is because I placed her there. In my eyes she is on a pedestal that I cannot reach. I stretch, stand on my tippy toes, only to fall on the floor in shame. This situation is nobodies fault. This is what happens when you have two extremely ambitious and loving people that happen to express themselves in two incredibly different ways. Currently, I am jobless (again, as of yesterday). I was afraid to tell her. I was literally petrified because I knew I would feel GUILTY, SHAME, AND ANGER. Why? Why, do I feel this way. She is a good person. She is not abusive. She loves me very much. WHY do I disappoint her to the point that I feel like slitting my wrists.
When you have a mental illness, everyone else in your life has a mental illness too. A mental illness impacts every person you love. They may not understand that is why they are so angry and confused. They may not understand why they want to put their fist through a wall. But they do...they may...and they stick around because they love us. Remember, if they are frustrated, throw a fit, etc. but do not leave (permanently) it is because they love you. Just as hard as it is for us to express ourselves, for us to suffer, and for us to try not to flip out. They are suffering too. Some say a characteristic of mental illness is selfishness. It is, not on purpose, but it is, because we forget that everyone else is suffering too.
Selfconciously yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Monday, August 8, 2011
Deep Thoughts: A Comedy
When I am driving and see a squirrel I slam on my breaks, scream, "oh lord," and check my rear view mirror for a fatality...When I see a human I think, "hmmm...what are my options."
On my way to work I enjoy my morning radio show and talking to myself...when I am at work I look at the glass window every ten minutes wondering if it is made of Pyrex or a thin sliver I can jump through.
My step-mother claims to be a woman of GOD and goes to church every weekend...My father loves me more even though I am a "Gay."
Sometimes my son is the only one that understands me...sometimes my son is the only one that will play video games with me.
I hate books because they represent a long-term commitment with their "thickness" and all...I love articles and read for hours on the Internet.
I dream of Disney World...I also dream of Arsenic.
Money = security; however, Money = evil, therefore, Money = Rotting in hell wearing designer shoes. (my personal favorite)
I like to make up songs about any words that rhyme...I like to annoy people at work, the grocery store, and family functions for the mere sake of being annoying.
I like to think demonic thoughts, fantasize about blood and guts...but I hate "horror flicks." Hmmmm...maybe it inundates my mind with fun!
Until next time my fellow demonic darlings...
Truthaboutcrazy
On my way to work I enjoy my morning radio show and talking to myself...when I am at work I look at the glass window every ten minutes wondering if it is made of Pyrex or a thin sliver I can jump through.
My step-mother claims to be a woman of GOD and goes to church every weekend...My father loves me more even though I am a "Gay."
Sometimes my son is the only one that understands me...sometimes my son is the only one that will play video games with me.
I hate books because they represent a long-term commitment with their "thickness" and all...I love articles and read for hours on the Internet.
I dream of Disney World...I also dream of Arsenic.
Money = security; however, Money = evil, therefore, Money = Rotting in hell wearing designer shoes. (my personal favorite)
I like to make up songs about any words that rhyme...I like to annoy people at work, the grocery store, and family functions for the mere sake of being annoying.
I like to think demonic thoughts, fantasize about blood and guts...but I hate "horror flicks." Hmmmm...maybe it inundates my mind with fun!
Until next time my fellow demonic darlings...
Truthaboutcrazy
Thursday, July 21, 2011
A desperate letter to my wife...
I hope you are happy because sending me over the edge worked this morning. Do you think your rude behavior towards me made the guilt go away? No, it made me puke brown sludge from my breakfast. TWICE. Do you think I wanted to lay around and sleep? Wrong. I did not stay home to sleep....
I literally layed this morning WITH MY HEAD IN MY HANDS stressed and SADDENNED beyond what your brain can possibly interpret. Your inability to take the hour an a half that you were at home and aware that something was very, and truly wrong, caused deeper problems than you and I CANNOT even imagine. This morning was a clear cry for help and I am disgusted by the fact that you actually held my hand and "tried" to care until YOU decided that you were infuriated. YOU made this about your own selfish thoughts instead of taking just a few moments to put yourself in my shoes. JUST A FEW MOMENTS WOULD HAVE HAD A BETTER OUTCOME.
I WILL have sick days; HOWEVER, I am extremely proud of my accomplishments. I AM EXTREMELY satisfied with my ability to OVERCOME my adversities to land this job, keep this job, and have the desire to GO BACK as soon as TOMORROW when I can make sense of the deamons that are lurking around the corner. HELL YEAH, this will happen again, my point is that I have always tried to impress you, make you and our family happy, and stop the insanity from ruining our relationship.
YOU, of all people, after all of the years of watching me cope, should understand that my life will not magically become easier overnight. YOU have watched my struggles since August of 2008 when I was first diagnosed. Yes, you gave me a second chance, but I feel as though I pay for it everyday. I have mental adversities over issues that are clearly my own deamons that develop into what is categorized as "guilt."
This is a much deeper seeded issue than you can ever imagine. If it wasn't for my image issues, I would be slittling my wrists, throat, stomach, between my toes, and the back of my legs every single day. Cutting, is not an act for attention, pity, or any other self absorbed categorization. Cutting is a charactoristic of my illness. No two mental illnesses are exactly the same. They are like fingerprints. I continuosly try to let you into the world of my addiction to mutilate. My terrible panic attacks and overcoming what developed into agoraphobic tendencies cause issues to do a task at work, it actually takes me twice as long because of all of the editing, second guessing, checking, re-checking, etc. Am I going to impress the intelligent individuals that I work with? Am I going to embarass myself? A lot of these issues many healthy people deal with AND I GET THAT; however, the impact on my "fingerprint" aka mental illness, is severe.
Have you ever felt like dying inside? Have you ever had too much on your plate? I already know the answer is YES. BUT, imagine that happening about every 20 minutes. It's referred to as the bipolar cycle.
Dr. "I" and I have known each other for 3-years. If I needed to prioritze my conversation to be about something other than what I chose to discuss the other day, then that is what we would have talked about. However, when I ranked my "deamons," that particular category was what had plagued my mind the most. You must also understand, that I have several items on my itinerary when I meet with him. Due to time constraints and ME SIMPLY FORGETTING, it doesn't always happen. I need a therapist in addition to all of this. WE need a therapist, actually, I think that a couple traveling through the process of healing together is something that can actually keep our relationship strong; stand out from the rest. WE talked about the therapist and it never happened.
I lost my train of thought, I had to go vommit again, sorry I didn't ask for your permission to be actually "normal person sick" and "mental person sick" on both days....but "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" right? Always multi-tasking like a good little girl. (this was my sarcastic sentence).
I want to say curse words. I will refrain from calling you names, and adding explicative "adjectives."
Again, I am in over my head. I do not need you to yell and say, "well then just quit." That will not benefit our family. That will not benefit my illness. I HAVE ALREADY SEEN a huge improvement being on a set sleep schedule, developing a daily routine, and actually doing a job that I am passionate about. BUT, it does not take away what still exists.
Today, was a cry for help. I do not need you to fly home from your job to babysit me. It was a strong need for us to build our level of conversation and communication which kinda sucks right now. Being a parent is awesome but it is definitely an inconvenience when scheduling a time to talk. Sometimes a cry for help supercedes any "scheduling" that may need to be done. Sometimes it needs to be a priority. I want to feel as though I am a priority. That statement is not intended to sound selfish. My intentions are genuine.
My cry for help is more of a NEED of respect and understanding as it pertains to SICKNESS. Sick days are unavoidable, I realize in the United States your employer has the ability to take your job away at any time for any reason. I realize that since we are gay I cannot go on your health insurance. I also realize that you cannot help to be ANGRY when you are the only working adult in the household. BUT, please understand, I ACTUALLY want to contribute. Huge difference. I want to provide for OUR FAMILY so that we can enjoy simple things such as cable, electricity, water, shelter, a healthy dinner as well as perks such as vacation and flying accross the country to see our family members that have chosen not to live near us (I have a lot of anger towards my family for moving away) and I know that you miss yours.
I love my job. It is very hard. I am afraid. But the fact that I have a job is an unbelievable gift. I want it but does it want me?
For goodness sake, I have to go to court and prove myself AGAIN that I am the best fit for my son and HE DESERVES child support. Have you thought that maybe the amount of stress from that day is a dark cloud getting closer, and closer, and causing me panic attacks? My throat has been burning from the attacks.
I want you to know that if I didn't love you and my son, I would let my son's father raise him and I would not be with you. I would be on the next flight to live with my parents or Hawaii to live in a tent with no health insurance and go off on some crazy downward spiral. BUT IT IS YOU that inspires me IT IS YOU that makes me want to try and be better. Why? I love you with all of my heart. I am in love with you. I don't love you for convenience. I don't love you because I am crying right now. I don't love you because it is the easy way out. You help me try, better myself, and you have the warmest heart. I just don't know if you feel the same way anymore. Is your heart slowly becoming cold? Are you slipping away? I don't feel like I deserve you. At times, I know you rather be married to a woman stronger than me. However, this is all I have to offer. I don't know what the future holds concerning any of what I have just discussed.
I lost my train of thought which seams to be a trend lately. I had to step away. If you choose to respond to me I will not be using my e-mail for the rest of the day. I have a lot to think about. Thoughts are swimming around my head and it is time I stop. Breathe. Take it all in. I went from 0-60 without preparing to go back to work because I was hired "on the spot."
If you chose to contact me, and I hope you do, I prefer a phone call as responding to this may not fit in a simple text message. But again, the ball is in your court now and that is your decision.
PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS YOU GUYS...I FEEL SO LOST!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
You should know...
I don't think I know more than anybody else. I understand I will learn something new about this every day.
You should know that no two mentally ill people are alike. We can empathize with each other, support each other, and stick together; however, its truly important to understand that all of us will never consecutively have bad days and will never consecutively have good days. Our sleep patterns won't be the same and our self destruction may have the same root cause, but we all express it in very different ways.
You gotta learn it the hard way.
I get mad. I get jealous. and I get scared.
When the people I love do what I do to myself I literally have a nervous breakdown. I witnessed (well kinda) a true psychotic break and OH MY GOD, it is so different than experiencing one. Watching from the outside is like squeezing your stomach with a metal clamp until you throw up. I can't explain the outer body experience I had. I was listening to my own fears coming out of someone's mouth and all I could do was cry, and yell, and almost flipped out at work.
When you love someone that goes through what you went through, I feel as though the rage stems from wanting them to see what you saw when you snapped out of it. The rage comes from being selfish and impatient. The rage also comes from self hatred. I can only imagine what my inability to empathize and stay calm when people need me would be perceived as. I want to help and when a wall gets thrown up and I can't do what I see is help I lose it.
Again, we can love each other, support each other, and empathize but we can't always be the best help. Why? Two sick people trying to help each other isn't necessarily a recipe for disaster but its definitely an uphill battle.
Peace and Patience,
Truthaboutcrazy
You should know that no two mentally ill people are alike. We can empathize with each other, support each other, and stick together; however, its truly important to understand that all of us will never consecutively have bad days and will never consecutively have good days. Our sleep patterns won't be the same and our self destruction may have the same root cause, but we all express it in very different ways.
You gotta learn it the hard way.
I get mad. I get jealous. and I get scared.
When the people I love do what I do to myself I literally have a nervous breakdown. I witnessed (well kinda) a true psychotic break and OH MY GOD, it is so different than experiencing one. Watching from the outside is like squeezing your stomach with a metal clamp until you throw up. I can't explain the outer body experience I had. I was listening to my own fears coming out of someone's mouth and all I could do was cry, and yell, and almost flipped out at work.
When you love someone that goes through what you went through, I feel as though the rage stems from wanting them to see what you saw when you snapped out of it. The rage comes from being selfish and impatient. The rage also comes from self hatred. I can only imagine what my inability to empathize and stay calm when people need me would be perceived as. I want to help and when a wall gets thrown up and I can't do what I see is help I lose it.
Again, we can love each other, support each other, and empathize but we can't always be the best help. Why? Two sick people trying to help each other isn't necessarily a recipe for disaster but its definitely an uphill battle.
Peace and Patience,
Truthaboutcrazy
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
"The Breakdown, The Home, and The Indian"
I think its safe to introduce you guys to a "happy" little place I call "The Home." I came up with this cute little nickname from my "Great-Grandmother from another mother," Estelle Getty...Yep, I have seen almost every episode of the "Golden Girls" just like every other...ummm...teenager. Estelle played Sophia and referred to "Shady Pines" retirement facility as such...she often talked about trying to "bust out of the joint."
Whatever, dude. I'm not embarassed. That show is funnier than shit.
"The Home" is actually the Psych Ward. Ward #3 to be exact. I was told, "you should be in Ward #2 because of your extreme psychotic break; however, you talk too much and most of the people in that section already hear voices. They don't need to listen to you too...and that is a FACT" (insert Punjabi, indian dialect).
Sooo...I'm in bad physical shape because I told "Dr. I" that morning that I needed to release 50% of my blood from my body because my mother is evil...I am 50% of her and I want it out....you get the irrational picture...
Anyways, bleeding, shaking, talking crazy, shouting...I AGREE to go to this place to "get better."
"You will not be cured. You are on a journey and must meditate and think about what you have done and that is a FACT blah blah blah (Ok so whenever it ends with the word "fact" speak to yourself in an Indian accent...It's the same guy...p.s. I love him)
It smells like hospital. It looks like a very clean Dr. Office but with little orphanage beds...two beds per room. It's overwhelming...so I do what I do best...I talk...talk...I think I didn't pause until I had to pee 2 hours later. I'm confused...they are showing me my room...something about having a roomate and taking my shoelaces out of my shoes... So after the grand tour (It's only two hallways, one conference room, one office, a nurse's station complete with pills I want to eat and.....A CLASSROOM? But in the movies they get to walk up and down the hall twitching in a hospital gown and sleep alot. Like a lot of sleeping and medication and television and resting and more sleeping..and and and...STOP! The classroom doors open and I see my neighbors for the first time...WTF! Are there CRAYONS in that CLASSROOM? So this is what happens next...all of a sudden you're "normal" again and SNAP out of it. Get me out! Please! I don't belong here (uh yeah I totally did).
I meet the following people:
Male, 60's, talks only about the war
girl, very young, dissapointment to her parents
Female, late 20's, cigarette burns all over her arms...very friendly.
Woman, age unknown, growls like tiger...nevermind.
Super tiny woman with a feeding tube...anorexic...refused to eat so the Dr. jammed a bag of "Ensure" in her stomach...very hard to keep a straight face.
Female, a lot like me, starting lithium and takes vicodin for her back...great sense of humor...scars on neck and feet.
A few other guys and gals that are unemployed, trying to beat the system, and need a warm bed...ridiculous.
The Food:
Good. We were only allowed to use "Sporks"...quite possibly the funniest rule on the planet. You were graded on how well you ate by a little nurse. Did I mention the food was good? Kinda like a restaraunt...and then...SHIT! The manager of the "restaraunt" is someone I know. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT. No wonder she never told me where she worked! The last three days I only remember dinner...she worked days...I hid behind a wall...I almost failed breakfast...The guy from war was in on my secret and he would do a "stop drop and roll" with his tray that had an extra bagel for me so I could recieve a "C"
The Schedule:
Booked Schedule 8:00 a.m. - 9:45 p.m. Crazy people do not like surprise knocks on the doors and the lights flipped on FOR THEM like CAMP in the morning. I am not a bitch. This made me a bitch. Good News is that my wife had to bring me ear plugs because my "Roomate" snored like a Friggin' fighter jet ready for take off. I made fun of her with my new "friends" on day two snorting like a pig and she caught me. Later that evening I was told that she said she was going to kill me in my sleep...ironic...I wasn't the one sleeping....Ok I'm off track. The schedule was Breakfast, morning "what do we want to accomplish" discussions, Break, Snack time (yep...you heard me), another class that coincided with the day of the week, "Quiet time" with our journals, lunch, 2 more classes, break (with a snack...duh), another class, Dinner, 1 class, closing discussion, lights out. meds at 8,12,5,and 9:30. If you leave your room in the middle of the night for a walk just to get away from...I don't know...a foghorn...you will meet 3rd shift. 3rd shift is a very cranky female nurse playing solitare and a very young, ugly and horny male nurse watching DVDs on the company computers. They got each others back; therefore, you have now pissed the bitch off and she says get back in your room...suddenly I am a 9-year old.
I must add that the day shift and evening shift nurses were lovely. One of them was even bipolar type 1 and had literally been on our side of the fence. I learned a lot but I needed a mother-trucking vacation when I left. I am way to extroverted for "The Home." I listened to everyone's story and, of course, I wanted to heal the world, fix everyone's problem, and skip around in a manic frenzy. Yeah...one day I skipped...I was bored! (Humph!)
Release:
Sounds easy. Takes forever. "Good morning, what have you learned? You can do nothing with the past. You are in the present and the future means nothing because it is not here yet. Your illness means you need to be CONCIOUS 100% of the TIME in the PRESENT...I see that it is a fact you have spent many hours taking classes on facts and the fact is that you can leave today...your wife pick you up? Is that a fact?" (RRRRGGG I love you....just stop say FACT!)
Then there is the paperwork that takes...2 hours? I call my reliable other half to come get me. Then she has to wait another hour at the release station...we leave...pizza...the end.
The moral of this story is before you have a psychotic break remember this blog so that you don't expect a trip to the movie set of, "Girl Interupted."
The End.
Whatever, dude. I'm not embarassed. That show is funnier than shit.
"The Home" is actually the Psych Ward. Ward #3 to be exact. I was told, "you should be in Ward #2 because of your extreme psychotic break; however, you talk too much and most of the people in that section already hear voices. They don't need to listen to you too...and that is a FACT" (insert Punjabi, indian dialect).
Sooo...I'm in bad physical shape because I told "Dr. I" that morning that I needed to release 50% of my blood from my body because my mother is evil...I am 50% of her and I want it out....you get the irrational picture...
Anyways, bleeding, shaking, talking crazy, shouting...I AGREE to go to this place to "get better."
"You will not be cured. You are on a journey and must meditate and think about what you have done and that is a FACT blah blah blah (Ok so whenever it ends with the word "fact" speak to yourself in an Indian accent...It's the same guy...p.s. I love him)
It smells like hospital. It looks like a very clean Dr. Office but with little orphanage beds...two beds per room. It's overwhelming...so I do what I do best...I talk...talk...I think I didn't pause until I had to pee 2 hours later. I'm confused...they are showing me my room...something about having a roomate and taking my shoelaces out of my shoes... So after the grand tour (It's only two hallways, one conference room, one office, a nurse's station complete with pills I want to eat and.....A CLASSROOM? But in the movies they get to walk up and down the hall twitching in a hospital gown and sleep alot. Like a lot of sleeping and medication and television and resting and more sleeping..and and and...STOP! The classroom doors open and I see my neighbors for the first time...WTF! Are there CRAYONS in that CLASSROOM? So this is what happens next...all of a sudden you're "normal" again and SNAP out of it. Get me out! Please! I don't belong here (uh yeah I totally did).
I meet the following people:
Male, 60's, talks only about the war
girl, very young, dissapointment to her parents
Female, late 20's, cigarette burns all over her arms...very friendly.
Woman, age unknown, growls like tiger...nevermind.
Super tiny woman with a feeding tube...anorexic...refused to eat so the Dr. jammed a bag of "Ensure" in her stomach...very hard to keep a straight face.
Female, a lot like me, starting lithium and takes vicodin for her back...great sense of humor...scars on neck and feet.
A few other guys and gals that are unemployed, trying to beat the system, and need a warm bed...ridiculous.
The Food:
Good. We were only allowed to use "Sporks"...quite possibly the funniest rule on the planet. You were graded on how well you ate by a little nurse. Did I mention the food was good? Kinda like a restaraunt...and then...SHIT! The manager of the "restaraunt" is someone I know. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT. No wonder she never told me where she worked! The last three days I only remember dinner...she worked days...I hid behind a wall...I almost failed breakfast...The guy from war was in on my secret and he would do a "stop drop and roll" with his tray that had an extra bagel for me so I could recieve a "C"
The Schedule:
Booked Schedule 8:00 a.m. - 9:45 p.m. Crazy people do not like surprise knocks on the doors and the lights flipped on FOR THEM like CAMP in the morning. I am not a bitch. This made me a bitch. Good News is that my wife had to bring me ear plugs because my "Roomate" snored like a Friggin' fighter jet ready for take off. I made fun of her with my new "friends" on day two snorting like a pig and she caught me. Later that evening I was told that she said she was going to kill me in my sleep...ironic...I wasn't the one sleeping....Ok I'm off track. The schedule was Breakfast, morning "what do we want to accomplish" discussions, Break, Snack time (yep...you heard me), another class that coincided with the day of the week, "Quiet time" with our journals, lunch, 2 more classes, break (with a snack...duh), another class, Dinner, 1 class, closing discussion, lights out. meds at 8,12,5,and 9:30. If you leave your room in the middle of the night for a walk just to get away from...I don't know...a foghorn...you will meet 3rd shift. 3rd shift is a very cranky female nurse playing solitare and a very young, ugly and horny male nurse watching DVDs on the company computers. They got each others back; therefore, you have now pissed the bitch off and she says get back in your room...suddenly I am a 9-year old.
I must add that the day shift and evening shift nurses were lovely. One of them was even bipolar type 1 and had literally been on our side of the fence. I learned a lot but I needed a mother-trucking vacation when I left. I am way to extroverted for "The Home." I listened to everyone's story and, of course, I wanted to heal the world, fix everyone's problem, and skip around in a manic frenzy. Yeah...one day I skipped...I was bored! (Humph!)
Release:
Sounds easy. Takes forever. "Good morning, what have you learned? You can do nothing with the past. You are in the present and the future means nothing because it is not here yet. Your illness means you need to be CONCIOUS 100% of the TIME in the PRESENT...I see that it is a fact you have spent many hours taking classes on facts and the fact is that you can leave today...your wife pick you up? Is that a fact?" (RRRRGGG I love you....just stop say FACT!)
Then there is the paperwork that takes...2 hours? I call my reliable other half to come get me. Then she has to wait another hour at the release station...we leave...pizza...the end.
The moral of this story is before you have a psychotic break remember this blog so that you don't expect a trip to the movie set of, "Girl Interupted."
The End.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
psy·cho·sis
Psychosis is a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality.
The first time this occurs it may be referred to as a "psychotic break." If it happens again it is eventually referred to as psychosis.
Sooooooooo...........
I am in what I would like to call a "psychosis haze" right now. I don't want to talk to anyone (unless it is electronically) and I am back to eating more than my stomach can hold in order to avoid cutting. I snapped about 36 hours ago...I knew it was coming because my insomnia has been back for quite some time and my mania has been full throttle and my low moments have been absolute darkness. I am completely drugged at the moment...but....with a twist.
The following has medicinally occured today.......
If I were in a full blown psychotic state I wouldn't be able to type this. However, I find a strange solace in "blog land."
Finally, everyone is pissed off at my "poor" behavior in the house. I want to be alone for like 5 days but they are all worried I would slice myself open and unless I eat the rest of the kitchen I probably would. I don't like the effects of Xanex, actually, it isn't very fun. I find it to be extremely necessary but when I take a bit of cough syrup, allergy medicine, and top it off with a sleeping pill I can get through like 6 hours completely numb and productive....sigh....next week I will be bitching on here about how manic I am and some new diet craze.
I feel my buzz wearing off....
So, AGAIN, it takes 5 seconds to create a user name...SHARE your experiences, fears, and ideas with me!
Maniacle Regards,
Truthaboutcrazy
The first time this occurs it may be referred to as a "psychotic break." If it happens again it is eventually referred to as psychosis.
Sooooooooo...........
I am in what I would like to call a "psychosis haze" right now. I don't want to talk to anyone (unless it is electronically) and I am back to eating more than my stomach can hold in order to avoid cutting. I snapped about 36 hours ago...I knew it was coming because my insomnia has been back for quite some time and my mania has been full throttle and my low moments have been absolute darkness. I am completely drugged at the moment...but....with a twist.
The following has medicinally occured today.......
- 9 Xanex (I have passed out on 27 before so...whatever...I know I'm wrong...no need for a lecture)
- 3 Benadryl (it adds a little kick to the X
- 2 glasses of cherry diet dr. pepper with a splash of vodka...I then took a nap
- Woke up and took 1 Tylenol PM, 1 Benadryl, and 1 Xanex
If I were in a full blown psychotic state I wouldn't be able to type this. However, I find a strange solace in "blog land."
Finally, everyone is pissed off at my "poor" behavior in the house. I want to be alone for like 5 days but they are all worried I would slice myself open and unless I eat the rest of the kitchen I probably would. I don't like the effects of Xanex, actually, it isn't very fun. I find it to be extremely necessary but when I take a bit of cough syrup, allergy medicine, and top it off with a sleeping pill I can get through like 6 hours completely numb and productive....sigh....next week I will be bitching on here about how manic I am and some new diet craze.
I feel my buzz wearing off....
So, AGAIN, it takes 5 seconds to create a user name...SHARE your experiences, fears, and ideas with me!
Maniacle Regards,
Truthaboutcrazy
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