Cracking Around the Edges

I’m home for thanksgiving. So far, I’ve fared well with my sister and brother in law. They suggested that I get tested for ADD since it seems to run in the family and is often comorbid with bipolar disorder. Over all, we’ve been getting along swimmingly. But now that they’re gone, I can feel the emotional cracks starting to form.

The cracks are chiseling away my patience and my emotional strength. I’m snapping at my parents over little things that don’t matter. I’m taking practically everything personally. Then on top of it all, I feel like crying. Just straight crying over nothing. It’s wearing my emotional armor thing. Mind you, this is all on klonopin as well.

And then there is the general feeling of being overwhelmed. That I’ve failed as a student to get myself known at my college for good letters of recommendation. That I’m failing at getting anything remotely good done on my thesis. And because of this I won’t get into a good grad school, which will total my career and leave me teaching in some crappy little college and I’ll hate myself for the rest of my life. And then on top of it, I feel like I’ve just lost part of my life from this past month.

It’s also just flooding over me the realization that I now have psychosis attached to my diagnosis. I feel like I have so little fight left in me that I can barely stand it. Instead, I feel like crumbling. I feel like every week that has passed and left me waiting for results just cuts a little more out of me. I just want to stop feeling. I often cut when I’m like this, but I can’t get away in time to do it while my parents are around. Cutting often releases the emotional energy that’s built up. But instead, I’m just left feeling too much. I should probably give my psychiatrist a call. No, I think I will.

Knocked out

The higher dose of klonopin is starting to really have its impact. I don’t want to cut right now and I’m feeling rather sleepy. I talked with a therapist today who gave me more klonopin. She called it a band aid and that she wished that she could do more. She wasn’t my primary psych, Dr. A was taking the day off. I’d feel pretty guilty for interrupting his day with all my problems. But she was nice, I saw here on my last suicidal down spiral in august, she remembered me. She said I had good judgment then and that I have good judgment now. even though I don’t feel like it.

And maybe it’s the klonopin talking, or maybe it’s a bit of salient thought, but I some how still feel that I can manage school. I’m a little bit behind, but I was able to engage in both of my classes. I think that the klonopin gave me a little extra oomph in getting over my anxieties. And in spite of being a little out of it, I succeeded. I was engaged and prepared. Even with all of this happening, I was still able to make good sense of what was happening. It makes me feel good in reflection that even with all of this raining down on me, I can still barely get by. And getting by, just barely, is still a huge feat considering that most of my time is spent either catatonic or manic.

I’m still nervous about the band aid approach. I nearly didn’t make it today, but I pulled through. I’ll just keep counting down the days until I get to see my new psych. She’s going to get more than she’s probably expecting.

My Voyage Home From The Pharmacist

So, true to my nature, I found out that I had 5 minutes to catch a bus and I forgot my jacket. Here in Wisocnsin, that means a slow and painful death. I’m exaggerating, it means extreme discomfort. So at the pharmacist, they reported that I didn’t have any calls or faxes for prescriptions. Instant conspiracy theory that they think I’m drug seeking and the cops are going to show up. I talked myself down from that one with the help of some american spirits. A few phone calls later, and I was ready to go back in and sit for a while. The pharmacist talked to me a bit. I’m a regular and she wanted to know if I was ok. She saw the marks on my arm.

But then there was the bus ride back. I was confused. I’m really easily confused right now. You can tell me one thing and I’ll hear another. I ended up in some god forsaken industrial area before I realized that I had gotten on the wrong bus. So I had to get out, I couldn’t stand the people in the bus to begin with. And thus began my journey home.

I froze to death. I was trembling with cold since all I had was a shirt on while clutching my recent bout of klonopin like it was a life line (which it is). But thankfully, along the way, I found an old vintage shop. It’s a nice boutique. And they had coats and shirts. Note to self, take away the credit cards when feeling manic. I ended up with a nice new vintage shirt and a bomber jacket. The jacket was a good idea though, I was toasty the whole way home. Still, it set me back a bit.

But now that I’m settled in with some more klonopin, I’m feeling relaxed and I don’t feel like harming myself anymore. I don’t want to cut, or do anything for that matter. I just feel like dozing off. Which is a relief considering that before the klonopin barely touched my energy levels. Now, at double the strength, I’m cruising through life with atrocious spelling mistakes.

On that note, I thank everyone who expressed concern for me in their replies. I’m deeply touched by the outreach that this community provides. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there when I was in a dark place.

This Is NOT Good

I’m cutting. I woke up with a lot of energy, too much. And I needed to cut to calm myself down. It worked, the endorphine rush calmed me down to the point that I can sit still again. The klonopin just wasn’t doing it. After calming myself, thankfully I came to my senses and decided to write. So I’m just going to write. Thankfully, the kitchen knives were not that sharp and I didn’t have the dexterity to sharpen them. I’m suddenly very happy. I feel so relaxed. I spiked myself from crying over the biggest loser to now feeling focused and calmed and happy. And ashamed. Now I have to explain this. I haven’t self harmed in years, and even then it wasn’t with knives. Not to mention, I did it while my girlfriend was sleeping in the next room. I’m not looking forward to explaining this to her. That now I’m a danger to myself.

Why did I do it? I don’t know. I just was out of my skin feeling like bugs were crawling all over me. I just needed to feel something. Something sharp, something I couldn’t ignore. Something that would take my mind off of everything that I was feeling. And it did that. I nearly blacked out from the rush. I collapsed on the kitchen floor panting, and loving every minute of it. I didn’t feel like I made a mistake, I felt like I did the right thing.

I still don’t feel like I did the wrong thing, or anything that I shouldn’t have done. Even though I know that I shouldn’t have done it. It’s a split between what I know and what I feel. I can’t get those two to align. The only time that I did was when I was cutting. But I know that this is not good. I know that I’m psychologically in deep trouble. I’ll try to just keep writing today, whatever pops into my head. So be prepared for a flood of emails.