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

"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. 

The Burning Question

A lot of people ask about my past and present experiences with "cutting."  I know it is a scary topic so I typically change the subject.  As I said in my first blog...I am not holding back on anything.  It would be impossible to relate or to share common experiences with the people that I inform or share the same pain with unless I put it all out there.

Most of the blogs that people tell me to read about are stories about perfect lives doing perfect things blah blah blah.  You are going to get a lot of stomach turning, crazed, shit here, my friend.

Past:  The rush!  All of a sudden my heart stops hurting and the pain is transferred to my torn flesh.  Bones are bruised and I begin to grin as my tears shoot out of my eyes like a machine gun.  The creepy giggle!  As I rapidly glide the blade down the area of choice.  Slowly I notice the glide has turn into violent slams.  The rage!  I am attacking the people that hurt me AND attacking the people I love. I leave my body and at this point I am watching.  I mean, I would feel it if it were actually happening right?  Nope, I have become numb.

Present:  Knowledge of all of the previous mentioned.  Just as any other addict I count to see how long I can go without doing it again.  I hate scars because I want to be that girl everyone says is "sexy."  I contemplate re-opening the wounds that have already become scars.  When I relapse, it gets harder to look at each time.  I whisper under my breath, "I'm a horrible mother...no one loves me, they just worry about me...I am a bad wife."...and for some reason I also chant, "I'm a bad housekeeper." 

So this is the crap I get asked...

Why do you do it?  It morbidly amuses me.  I justify it until it sounds comepletely normal!  I have a lot of hate that I hide on the inside.  I have NO PATIENCE.  I am completely self-centered, and last but not least it is a transfer of PTSD and prevents my panic attacks from an ANXIETY DISORDER.

Still confused by my answer...especially the last one?  Sorry, dude, I guess you can go to a forum and read about other people then...

Here is the sick part...I am a bubbly and happy person.  Very outgoing.  I don't know why I have this weird internal anger.  I don't know why I am selfish.  I don't know why I demand things from the people I love.  If any of you have insight or CAN RELATE.  Please COMMENT!

Bloody Regards,

Truthaboutcrazy