Xanax (benzos)

I remember when one of you made it all better;
and the promises made to change my life.
I remember when my head started swimming,
And I needed you to stay alive.
I just needed one.
and now it is five.
My blood crawls with rage if I don't have you on time.

What have you done?
I didn't even want you,
I didn't want to feel this way.
What have you done?
I didn't even need you,
just wanted the hurt to go away.

I remember when I called you my savior
Now I hate every piece of you.
I remember when heartache was a daily routine;
and the day I sought after you.

What have you done?
I didn't even want you,
I didn't even want to feel this way.
What have you done?
I didn't even need you,
just wanted the hurt to go away

And so...
I needed you after all,
I didn't really want to fall.
My body craves you after all.
I didn't really want to fall.
But I needed you after all...

(Sigh....)

I remember when heartache was a daily routine;
and the day I sought after you.

Warning: Bodily Fluids, Suicide, and Jesus

I like purple.  I am wasting time right now....delaying the inevitable...eyes are burning...should be asleep...

I'm in a suit.  I am ready for the day.  I check myself in the mirror one last time, make a last decision on shoe choice, admire my perfectly placed jewelry, and I walk out the door.  Everytime I touch the door handle my "hypocondrianism" kicks in.  I'm ill, I can't breath, my leg hurts, lack of sleep will cause a car accident, this suit makes me fake, I bought the suit on clearance I'm not fake...just keep walking, my left breast hurts (stop) I need to check for a lump, I think I found a lump.  I need to go to the Dr., Damn I have no health insurance until November, OMG get in the car!  If you lose your job you will have NO health insurance in November, when is November?  I hate the cold.  Its still hot today, I need sunshine therapy...get in the effing car!

(Driving and performing my exact ritual.  Sip drink, back out, turn up the radio to my favorite morning show, laugh and drive...)

 Out of the blue I am struck with plans to end it all.  Rapid cycling, plotting, pure evil.

I decide its time.  Time to end it all.  I pull over and make the plan, ok I have the plan.  I open the car door and vomit.  I get back into traffic and I call my best friend speaking such foreign gibberish even the BFF powers to interpret failed. 

I soil my pants...and piddle a bit too...it's bad...I'm not a damn poodle!

Hysterical I tell her about job difficulties and only current thoughts (nothing from the past that contributed to my deathly tendancies)  I freak out and pull into an Arabic or Islamic type church (not sure, not an expert, not a hater).  I end the call on a "happy note" and proceed to the back of the lot.  A dark shaded area tucked away in thick brush is my choice location to "take care of business...Glad I already went potty on myself since that happens when you die anyway...OMG why am I thinking this!

OMG answered.  I shall elaborate.  As my final moment presented itself, my heart awakened.  I didn't see a light or hear a voice I had a "thought."

GO NOW to the really awesome non-denominational church that loves everyone and coincides so closely with my oddly logical spiritual beliefs. 

OK SO LET ME BE VERY CLEAR:  I do not attend church unless its a wedding or a funeral.  I am a "gay for god" and not too many people like that here in the "south."

I went anyway.  So weird.  I just went.  I ended up speaking with the arts and drama director of the church instead of the pastor because it was early and dude wasn't there yet.  BUT this guy had the most bipolar insanely crazy, wonderful, odd, beautiful office.  We spoke for two hours and I ALWAYS feel like people are judging me (Dr's, christians, co-workers, etc.) I finally had no appointment, no meds to discuss, no requirements, paperwork, just a VERY brutally honest conversation.  IT WAS AMAZING.  I don't think I am JESUS now, I don't think I "got fixed," but I want to see another day and not suffer another day.

One day at a time, one moment even, but I am glad that I want to breath in life.  A few reasons why:

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!