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:

• 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!

So after Intake and before the next dramatic situation I discuss I want to add that YES I did want to kill her but I had also made a promise to myself that I was going to keep my head down, lay low, and wasn't there to make friends.  I over talk so much when I am anxious that I just kept my mouth shut out of fear of starting off on the wrong foot....

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)

I Don't Understand (the following perplexed me):

• 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." 

SERIOUSLY?  Split-personality thing?  Ok, "fuck that." I said to myself.  I walked straight to the front of the building and found the night person in charge and said.  "I don't care what I need to sign, say, or do but I am leaving right now.  Call my LH!!" (my wife aka Lesbian Husband...inside joke).

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

Brain Explosion

Soooo...

First:  I "self injured" early this morning (per twitter)..........GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Again, my brain exploded to the point of Youtube freaking out at my latest creation and telling me the file was too large.  I realized that I may be able to cram a whole life story in a therapy session, not a VLOG.  I am super, super excited about my newest creation and with an expected rocky start I believe that this is the beginning of what should be discussed.  I have watched about 35 VLOGS in the past few days on mental illness (to learn) and although I have nothing OUTRIGHT negative to say, I can see that the focus is different.  Most of the people are complaining.  I complain all of the time so I am not pointing the finger.  But, it is my firm belief that if we are going to get something meaningful started and I MEAN WE, US, "CRAZIES."

It is one thing to complain and that is what my idea started as today. BUT, you have to at least throw a bunch of ideas at a wall and hope one sticks.  A lot of people may like to read but I wanted to also provide substance through video...and my bitch fest was an EXACT example of how hard it is to NOT complain throughout the entire video.  I liked that I failed, I will challenge myself...something I have not done in a long time.  I know this blog seems kinda perky tonight...It's probably because I just had a good night with my hubby... 

Lastly, the point of the future VLOG project should be about me being a hot mess + all of us a mess + possible days with failures, successes, and ways to prevent things like self harm, panic attacks, etc.

We can all be fucked up mental superheroes y'all....I always wanted to start a revolution!!!!!!!

Exclusive e-mail account to my readers:  truthaboutcrazy@yahoo.com  That is designated for getting to know each other, ideas (ridiculous or not), my dear friends I have already made, etc. 

PEACE,

Truthaboutcrazy

Cheap and Evil Girl

Idiot is the girl who had no idea she was suffering...

As most of you know by now, @mindofmedusa and I are #LLBFF's and have caused a lot of trouble in the workplace when we first met, and even more drama after leaving due to medical reasons.  One day we are manic, fun, and social and the next thing we knew we were afraid to leave our homes.  Bff's that see each other once every 2 months?  Thank you twitter!


Anyways, here is a PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT for any government official who questions the integrity of our rapid downfall or the ASSHATS that were clueless on the fact that we could tough it up and thought we were just having a bad couple of days.

Modern Day AbFab Bitches!

Fuck Off Normals!

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.

• 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.

The most important factor is that if you have PMDD is that you have EXCESSIVE PANIC ATTACKS and exhibit SUICIDAL TENDENCIES the PMDD can worsen the effects.  It has been proven that most of the females with PMDD + a mental illness commit suicide during that time when there hormones drop significantly (during the actual cycle).  Again, if you already have a mental illness, your panic attacks, anxiety, and suicidal desires increase during this time!  Please be safe.

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)

Lastly, take care of yourselves, love yourself even when you don't want to, and try to ride this bullshit out.  I can't guarantee that my awareness will keep me from blogging or tweeting crazy ass shit, but its a start!

fascinating regards,

Truthaboutcrazy

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.

Identity Crisis

Those were the days....

Or was it the beginning?

We were on the way back from a 4hr trip to the Casino.  It was a blast.  My friends all had a bit of Casino induced mania that I would actually categorize as "almost normal."  We had so much fun!  Most of us actually came out on top and even paid for food and gas on the way home...

I began to realize that the simple mood stabilizer and 1-2 benzos a day were possibly not enough.  The slight mania resulted in a cycle down to a super low, and if my memory serves me right, I painted a lot of my friends house immediately after the low.  The abstract work has been referred to as, "a scene out of a horror movie."

Let's fast forward a few months later.  The Dr. bumps me up to double the mood stabilizer (300 mg of Lamictal or Lamatrigne) and three 1mg xanax per day (one every 6-8 hrs).  I started to freak out because I didn't want to climb the painful ladder of abusing medication.  I attempted to take matters into my own hands and skipped doses regularly.  It caused me to end up in the psych ward (see previous post for additional information).

Additional medicine was required during that visit.  I had dreams of getting lost in orange pill bottles, the sound pills make in my purse. I often skipped what I think I don't need, and then Waking up in withdrawal.  Vomiting was a regular occurrence due to inconsistent ingestion of meds, non-stop panic attacks.  So I would try to overcompensate by taking 1/3 of my bottle 3-4 bennadryl (allergy medicine) and sleeping pills during the day...

I loved that slowed down, nodding off, head rolling, feeling (some of you may have felt this).  I lost my job, didn't give a shit, and continued to consult wit my Psych. about bumping up meds or changing them up. 

Due to all of the changes I ended up having SEVERAL allergic reactions and sluggish reactions.  I tried to drain my blood out of all of my veins because I had a psychotic break and thought my mom poisoned me.  My mom is "loony" but she wouldn't poison me.  THIS situation landed me back in the "home" or shall I say Psych Ward (see previous post). That about rounds out 2010 for me.

So now....I F'ing don't get it!  I worked a total of 2 months and collected 3 months of Unemployment in 2010...drained my savings but didn't do anything super dumb.  2011, so far, I have worked a total of 6 months, and now the microscope from my entire family is on me....My band that made a few bucks here and there and hit it big at the "Smokehouse" and the "Exit/Inn" However, we broke up in April due to very positive reasons.  I'm not mad at them...I miss them dearly and I became extremely depressed.

Lets quickly fast forward to 2011.  So I have tripled my work activity and the year is not over yet.  I have loved ones breathing down my neck for my next move and a tiny amount of money.  In other words, my safe and carefree lifestyle is done with (for now).  If it weren't for the 3 benzos (xanax) I just took, I would be punching things and screaming (and of course unable to type).

So I have calculated something priceless:  I am miserable now.  I was miserable at the previous job that had an hour commute there and the same back.  BUT, If I was miserable then, now, who gives a shit what job I take...I am pissed at "Corporate America," So, tomorrow, it might be a scam, but I have an interview tomorrow about 20 minutes from my house.  I do not want this job, I do not like the genre, but I am going to check out the location and just go for it.  I can't lose anything, I can only gain insight.  The first 19 weeks are a salary, reliable check, and then there is some other structure but it will pay the bills and get my wife off my back.  It may be a scam.  BUT unless I start leaving my house and actually checking things out for myself, then I will never know.  I am tired of people getting on my case and I am tired of Looking for an answer at the bottom of a bottle. 

I'm forced into misery at home, my "friends" are dropping like flies, and I want everyone off my case.  So by the end of the week, if I am not working for a boutique, restaurant, or whatever I am going to tomorrow...I am going to do something to SHUT EVERYONE UP!

THE END,

TruthAboutCrazy

PTSD: Get Out of My Brain!

Hmmm...that news article looks interesting...let's take a look...

(As I read) I wonder why my heart is pounding?  I'm completely relaxed.  I was in good company tonight.  Did I take my meds on time?  Yep.  Perfect.  My heart feels funny.  This article is really good and I can completely relate to it.

I think I am having a panic attack.  What time is it?  Where am I?

I close my eyes and I am no longer in my home.  I open my eyes and I am.  So, I am not blacking out, hallucinating, etc.  This must be a memory.  So, I close my eyes again and I realize I am in my grandmother's old house.  I am about 6 years old and I am playing in the spare bedroom that no one goes in too often.  It smells kind of dusty.  I am laying on a bed on my stomach playing with some old toys my dad used to play with when he was a kid.  She saved almost all of the toys.  The toys were some army toys, a bunch of minature telephones and one large rotary phone.  It was a marigold like color.  One of the little phones was baby blue (wow I just remembered that).

::I am the oldest female in the new generation of family members.  My cousin, he, is the oldest::

As I play with my toys I realize that I am not alone.  We are playing together.  It's fun.  We are talking into the little phones and then hanging up and answering a different one.  We are giggling.  After all, I am only 6 and he is 9 (I think) maybe 10 or 11. 

Our family was in the kitchen cooking...we are Italian so that means 9 people crammed into a tiny kitchen arguing while then men watch football.

Next, he suggests this weird game that I vaguely remember.  Something about answering the phone and if I answer the one that he was thinking of I win.  The prize was a kiss.  "OK," I said.  After all, I have seen family members do that so big deal.  Right?  Well finally I win...or something...my memory is a blur.  He leans in and gives me a kiss.  I turn my cheek for a family friendly kiss on the cheek.

Ummmm....yeah....that wasn't the plan and this is where the following gets really difficult to share (in fact, this is the 14th hour and 3 panic attacks since I began typing).

He leaned his head in and kissed me on the mouth.  I giggled uncomfortably and was urged to keep on playing.  The door was closed.  The game continued.  The roles were changed and I was asked to kiss him.  Again, I went for the cheek (remembr I am 6 and I don't quite know what is "appropriate").  He turned his head and lightly grabbed the back of mine.  His lips were wet.  He kissed me again and again.  No tounge.  Then we go back to being silly and playing the game.  Only this time the large telephone was incorporated into the game.  More kissing.  I push back.  I feel uncomfortable...

The following is a bit explicit.  Also, I am not quite sure what sparked this.

He became angry with me and told me that I made him sad and disappointed.  Then....he reached for the large phone......grabbed the handle and simultaneously (firmly) placed me on my back.....opened my legs slightly and started ramming me in the crotch with the phone...multiple times...he told me I liked it....it was brief and then it finally ended...I didn't yell because he told me I liked it.  Why?  WHY? Why did I like this? 

He left the room and told me to clean up my toys.  I did.  I was NOT the perfect kid but I knew my parents would be upset with me if I didn't clean up my toys.  I had a few tears in my eyes; however, the confusion superseded all other emotion.  Why my crotch?  Hmmmm...other than going potty, I don't quite understand the purpose of my crotch.  That kissing thing was really odd.  I want to tell someone.  I see married people kiss on the lips but not kids....

"Mommy...Daddy...." (later that evening in private) "My cousin kissed me." I said.  "Awww...how nice dear...he loves you." mom said.  "Is that why it was on the lips a lot?" I whimpered.  "What?!  NO.  I don't know what he was thinking...that's not right."  mom said.  ::Dad whispered:: "Don't freak out in front of her...it will scare her."  he said.  "Don't let that happen again!"  Mom yelled.

Great.  I did something wrong and they are mad at me.

After that, I didn't see him.  As the years progressed, an incident that just seemed odd at the time, the thoughts began to fade away.  However, when I was 14 and visiting my uncle, he was there for the summer.  I was spending the weekend with my uncle because my parents were having some adult time I suppose.  My cousin immediately had a sparkle in his eye.  By that time, I was developed and beginning to look like a woman.  The second we were alone he grabbed a magazine and opened it up to a page with a bunch of submissive girls on their knees, stuff on their face, and a penis.  He asked me if I had started giving boys my age blow jobs yet and if I liked it. (I was cornered and this happened very quickly).  I walked away and told him to leave me alone.  "I am not about to talk about this bullshit with my cousin." 

A few hours later when I was alone again gettig ready in the guest room for the family to go somewhere.  I heard some rap music.  I'm not against any type of music.  I just had never heard that song before.  I stepped outside of the guest room and he was listening to some hardcore song about blow jobs and he was rubbing and massaging his crotch...I immediately turned for the bathroom and vomitted...he got the picture....and stayed away from me.  He has continued to not contact me for the rest of my life...thank GOD.

NOW:  I knew that he had tried to kiss me and I thought he was a weirdo.  That was the only "imprint" left in my mind.  Last night, I was reading an article about how self mutilation sometimes stems from childhood molestation, trauma, or any other abuse.  I truly thought that my PTSD began with some horrible experiences I had when I was a late teen.  I had no idea that this entire scenario had occured.  LITERALLY, my brain spewed these thoughts out like an explosive.  I couldn't stop it.  It was like my brain said, "WAIT you need to know the whole story for once in your life."

I am in absolute shock.  I was completely incapacitated today.  I am not quite sure where to go from here.  I am very thankful that this memory triggered when I was at home and not alone.  We were able to take all the sharp objects out of the house and properly medicate me.  Afterwards, my wife hid all of the medication.  She did agree to leave me a few extra xanax, which is a first, but she knew immediately that this was the most devastating realization in my life.  I was sodomized until I bled by a yellow rotary phone.  There really is no point in pressing charges 21 years later, or even upsetting my parents.  It is what it is.  Maybe this acknowledgement of when the abuse began will help me move forward and maybe it won't.  I have NO IDEA where to go from here except for the obvious...therapy.  Now, I will be honest.  I should probably be comitted after this trigger.  I have not been able to control my breathing since I woke up this morning and I am freaking out but I am not suicidal.  I have asked myself all day if I should commit myself again or not.  As it stands right now, I am going to sleep on it, I guess.  I literally keep seeing that phone everywhere I go.  It is in every room.  If I close my eyes, I see the phone.  I can't escape it.  Thank GOD cell phones don't look like rotary phones (lol).  Otherwise I would be attacking everyone and their phones. 

I went through EMDR if you have ever heard of it, you know that lasts about a year and you are supposed to go back to where it all began.  Unfortunately, the trauma began before I remembered.  Obviously EMDR did not work for me even though it works for a lot of people.

Man, I can't shake this.  I am literally devastated right now!

In closing, I hope this helps someone and I hope this helps me cope too.  All I am able to do is invest in is hope at this point.

100% truthfully yours,

Truthaboutcrazy

Beyond Irrational...maybe.

I think I totally figured it out and I kinda understand why people don't "off" themselves due to the following reason:

I have a beautiful child who has been exposed to my emotional trauma BUT, he has experienced heart wrenching trauma regarding his father including violence, drugs, etc. ...which is why I don't let him see him anymore.

With that said, I was never able to go through with "it" until I had a super, mega, realization.  "Take him" too. 

(I have to be careful on how I word this because this blog may disappear)

Anyways, what if I finally went through with it and included him on the plan.  I would rot in hell (I will anyways for being gay) and he would be free from all of the pain that has been inflicted on him.  Morbid, but excellent.  This is freaking you out...I can feel it.

Does it cross your mind when you are driving that it will be just that easy?  I know it has...don't lie.

I miss cutting...It is totally not fair that I have to pretend the urges are gone because they aren't.  I am tired of people telling me they are worried about me and then saying, "I'm not a coddler."  I'm not asking for that!  Now give me back the sharp object please!  Everyone just wants to use my son as a pawn to not hurt, be sad, etc.  What does he have to do with my brain.  I effing love him more than anything on this planet but there is a wall I have to climb to get to him.  He knows it and I know it.  He knows I am "sick" and just doesn't understand the "why" BUT he understands patience more than anyone else!  Those thoughts alone make me want to give in.

Sacrificially yours,

Truthaboutcrazy

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!

Walking Contradiction

I don't have time to come up with a cute title so deal with it.

I'm tipsy.  Do you ever have so much to say you don't know where to start?  No, seriously, I don't know where to start....ummmmmmmmm....soooo....yeah.  I have had a lot to digest the past couple of days.  Totally complicated....ANNNDDDD  I have to multi-task due to the fact that I went from having so much time to think, sit on the couch, eat, think some more, and stare at myself in the mirror with disdain due to rapid weight gain (while holding a cookie).  Now, I am squeezing my bloated ASS into a suit 5 days a week and putting on a "happy" face.  I would like to say I have a lot of passion for what I am doing, so it does help, but anxiety and darkness is lurking behind every corner.  If anyone has the answer to the following question I would love to hear it:  HOW do you get diagnosed with several disorders while working at a decent place of business, lose your job, go in and out of a psych ward a few times, and then go back to work a year later?  How do you make it last...especially if you really want it?

Moving on.

My psychiatrist gave me homework which is the last thing I need, due to the fact that I am inundated with so much new information at the moment.  I know he is used to being "healthy" and "well" but NEWS FLASH!  Didn't you diagnose me with Bipolar II, extreme anxiety, self-mutilation, etc.?  Yeah, homework isn't exactly what I had in mind.

Homework:

Figure out a way to begin developing healthy friendships without codependency or feeding another person's illness or "bad behavior." 

Easier said than done.  I make extremely bad decisions all of the time.  I cannot judge character or intentions of another individual because I am constantly walking around in a big fat cumulus cloud.  I am one of the few individuals that has faith in humanity...Did you just laugh?  Exactly. 

Apparently, "healthy" people do not worry about "unhealthy" people as much as the flipside.  Yep, even though I wallow in self pity, somehow I have the time to worry about others more than others worry about others.  If that makes any sense.  It actually does make sense to me and it is an extreme eye opener.  HOWEVER, due to my extreme guilt issues, I feel bad that I have possibly fed a person's sickness, or again, "bad behavior."  So then I go back into the cycle of additional worry.

Dammit!  I went pee and now I lost my therapeutic thought process!  Crapola!

(15-minute pause)

I still do not remember.  I will take this as a hint from the universe NOT to continue blubbering on.

Hypocritically yours,

Truthaboutcrazy

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

Back to Work...

I'm so happy; I'm not happy.
Feed the sickness.
So deserving; undeserving.
Tiny voices in my head.

I try so hard to not try hard.
Feel the sickness.
So beautiful that its not wanted.
Want to hide under my bed.

I'm so strong; I'm so weak.
My "big girl" future is looking bleak.
I'm so happy; I'm not happy.
Familiar voices in my head.

Sooo...

How the hell are ya'll doing? 

I recieve a gift.  A gift of opportunity, coincidence, and discomfort all rolled into one.  I am working in a very high profile office performing a very high profile job where a neat and tidy appearance, mentality, and approach is everything....everything that I "used to be."

I accepted this gift because I am working for an amazing company with the top reputation for getting people jobs.  I'm a bleeding heart and so naturally I wanted to take this job. I couldn't find a job so naturally I can empathize.  Of course there are major standards, corporate requirements, and I have to market myself...It's wonderful, actually, but my disorder is lurking around every corner.  I only want to cry during the most inconvenient time!  I want to quit at least once a day because I am overwhelmed and I feel inferior.  I am working with these STRONG women with a clear vision of their lives, etc. etc.

Bottom Line:  I happen to be fortunate enough to have the "potential" of being the best.  This is what I have been told anyway...but when I am told something like that, my brain translates this into, "You are an idiot, go home, and never show your face in this high profile town again."

It's just too fast!  I didn't even know that I would interview on Friday and start on Monday...I had no time to prioritize, no "fun money" to buy new clothes and I just somehow show up in a suit and kick ass...I don't want to kick ass because then I get all of this attention...thats the other problem...I love attention...but I don't want it.  I can't stop dreaming about a car speeding down the road and hitting a wall.

I can't stop obsessing over the fact that no one is at the house now and I should be in it...I never really wanted to leave it but it's obvious that I was quickly developing agoraphobia...

I don't know how to end this blog so I'm just going to go off to bed...my head is swimming, I'm so glad Friday has arrived, and I hope I am atleast 50% awake tomorrow.  I'm not asking for pity or anything...I just can't stop envisioning this puppy dropped off in a fancy neighborhood trying to find someone to love him even though he is beat up a bit and doesn't look thin, well manicured, and promising...sick part is that I grew up in that fancy town and thats where the dysfunction began...we shall see I suppose.

I need my happy place!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey! Guess What?! Religion isn't a weapon you ASSHOLE!

I am so pissed off right now.  This blog is going to be....I don't even know....I just know that I literally want to choke a bitch.

So...this is going to take me hours to type because I just had to take 3 Xanax to relax.  Some day, I will discuss something positive but...oh, that's right...not gonna happen.

We say we are crazy, mentally ill, diseased, bipolar, depressed, etc.  (If I missed your category, again, I am medicated and I don't mean to offend).

ANYWAYS, my neighbor decided to "show her ass" tonight.  I get along with everyone else.  But this BRAT decided she was going to be a little snot!  I noticed it developing a few weeks ago but I ignored it because I genuinely care about the rest of the group (they are older than me but age is just a number so whatever). 

I wanted to have a casual celebration Margarita with my friends aka neighbors.  She won't stop glaring at me during the whole group conversation (about nine people) and I am thinking, "Oh, gosh, seriously not again." 

Finally, I begin to chat with her hubby (no sexual attraction she is wayyyy hot and...just trust me on this one...attraction is not the issue).  I say to her hubby that we need to all get together more often like we used to because I loved how we would all bring a dish, chill, grill, play games, or whatever...This bitch pounces me and goes off on how they are MARRIED now and they can't be partying all of the time because they have "couple" stuff to do and...blah blah blah...Then it takes a turn for the worst and I say, "I never wish to offend anyone.  If I do, that is not my intent and I don't understand your hostility."


Someone tries to rescue this ridiculous discussion and change the subject. FAIL. She jumps on my case about throwing parties and my parenting skills...ask anyone, I am a fun mom that is still strict and has boundaries...as a result, people who don't like kids, have a blast with our kiddo. 

I'm pissed.  So I just flat out ask, "If it is our orientation or anything that makes you uncomfortable, I will respectfully back off, is that it?"  She flips out about how she isn't the judge and "I will face the judgement of GOD one day."

I AM NOT GAY BECAUSE I AM REBELLIOUS.  I AM NOT GAY BECAUSE OF A CHOICE.
OH AND ALERT THE PRESS!!  I'M NOT GAY TO PISS OF MY NEIGHBORS YOU CUNT!  I AM WITH MY SOUL MATE AND YOU ARE BABYSITTING AN ALCOHOLIC AND TWO ADULT CHILDREN THAT STILL LIVE WITH YOU!!!!

P.S. Don't tell me how to be a parent because your 18 year old who never has a job unless she asks to babysit my son and your 23 year old daughter lives with you and does not know SHIT about whether the sky is blue, purple or filled with flying toasters....so FUCK OFF YOU JUDGEMENTAL BITCH CUNT!  I AM GOING TO COVER MY YARD WITH MY MASSIVE GAY FLAG AND YOU CAN LOOK OUT YOUR TACKY, UGLY WINDOW, AT MY PRIDE!

suck on this:

I would be dead without this woman.  She rescued me physically and emotionally...The End.

"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. 

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.......

• 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

So...to the hardcore pill popper...not to horrifying, but this is typical for me when psychosis sets in.  On a normal day I only take 4mg of Xanex even tho the Dr. has prescribed 5mg per day.  I guess I am subconciously saving up for a rainy day...oh wait...it didn't rain 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