Such an adventure...

I went to my dad's family Thanksgiving/Christmas gathering on the second day and everything was ok at first.  There were so many people in such a small space and so many that I didn't know but I held my cool for a little while.  When they started to hand out gifts to the children and utter chaos started, my anxiety that had been holding back was full force.  I remembered putting my clonazepam in my purse but I guess in my frantic state I couldn't find them.  After a brief discussion with my dad I took his van to head home.

I knew I shouldn't be driving in that state of mind but of course, being in that state of mind, I thought there was no other way to escape.  I should have gone outside for awhile.  I should have looked harder in my purse.  Who the hell knows what I should have done that I didn't.  Instead I drove home and on the way clipped a (parked) truck with my passenger side mirror.  There was no damage to the truck because my mirrors fold in but the glass shattered in the mirror and then scratched the van a million times.  Now not only was I having an anxiety attack from the chaos at the gathering but also because I broke my dad's van.  Guilt is really hard for me to deal with, in case you haven't noticed.  My dad was very understanding about things, it's just my guilt that's eating at me.  Of course I'm going to replace the mirror as soon as I can.

Since then my anxiety is controlling a lot of what I do.  Not to mention the depression that pulls me back into bed every chance I get.  But the hallucinations, they will not stop.  They are constantly there; inside my head, outside my head, mumbling, singing, screaming.  Because I focus on the hallucinations I have a hard time focusing on anything else.

In other news I went to the neurologist for Botox injections to prevent my migraines.  It wasn't too bad, really.  They use a tiny needle to inject your head and neck 31 times.  They said I would have a headache for a week and this is only the first day and I want to scream.  It's a normal headache really but the fact that I know it will go on for another six days sucks.

I have an appointment with my psychiatrist on Friday and I'm not sure what to ask for or expect.  I'm not sure what to say to get the result I want, mostly because I'm not sure what I want.  Part of me wants me to go into the hospital and do a med wash and just start over.  Another part of me is so scared about going to the hospital because they could put me in placement when they can't figure my meds out.  Sigh...

Onward with my fucked up adventure...

My Adventure

Don't let the title fool you, this will not be about frolicking unicorns and kittens purring.  This is going to be about tonight when I spent time with my dad's family which is a huge leap from the place my ass has been glued.  I have been staying in bed most of the time, and when I get up to do anything my bed followed me around waiting for my return.  It's obvious I'm depressed even though I was pretty good at hiding it until I decided to just come out and tell my dad.  This requires a little back story:

I have been seriously depressed for quite awhile, weeks I'd say.  When Halloween came I dressed as Batgirl and handed out candy.  My brother was planning to have a small Halloween party.  My depressed self thought it would be fun to have a few drinks while handing out candy, which led to the thought of drinking with other people.  I had my dad take my drunkass over to the house but that's pretty much all I can remember.  Next thing I remember I'm in the hospital with an IV in my hand and they are asking me to call someone to get me.  Most of my clothing had been changed to hospital garb because the rest was covered in vomit.  I still don't remember the night and I prefer no one tells me.  According to the police report they mailed me I was found because I feel into someone's front door.  I have to go to court for that later this month.  My point was that my dad had to come get me from the hospital around 2 AM when he had to work at 7:30 AM.

A few days later I was laying in my bed and I couldn't stop crying.  I'm a master at hiding my crying but lately it seems I've lost my touch.  When I just couldn't stop crying I decided to just tell my dad and maybe he could help me feel better.  He thought it was about Halloween and I had to explain to him that this is happening all the time.  He was very helpful and continues to be.  So onto our adventure tonight:

This weekend is my dad's family's Thanksgiving/Christmas get together for the year.  I was worried about going because my anxiety has been kicking my ass.  I went, but took my clonazepam just in case.  Things were fine, people didn't ignore me as much as usual.  I watched the kids play in the pool and was lucky enough to hold two children, one a baby.  Neither of them were very talkative but being around so many children made me think of Syd.  I loved that baby girl and I miss her.  I'm also hypervigilant about the kids' safety but I have to put myself in my place; these are not my kids, they do not need my guidance.  After a couple hours it felt good to come home.

Now I'm contemplating whether or not I want to go back tomorrow and Sunday.  I know I'm not going to be able to handle more than a few hours, even with the clonazepam.  The kids just make me so nervous.  Ah, such is my adventure.

Day 1, Day 2

As I read through posts on CrazyBoards.org (a thread site for people with mental illness) I realized that there are so many like me and so few places for us to get help.  Mental illness is a really tricky process (as if you didn't know) and, especially with as many medications I'm on, I find myself in a sea of apathy.  Suicide doesn't come to mind but I don't want to live anymore.  I have said this before (which should give me hope) but I just feel like I'm treading water.  Maybe not treading water until death this time but treading water until I can do something useful.  What do you do when you feel like nothing is worth doing?  I don't want to upset my family but with my dad going into treatment soon and my brother needing help with moving it seems I don't have a choice but to hurt someone.

I think I want to go into the hospital and do a med wash.  I know that the meds that I am on were working and maybe they still are and just need a push of something else.  Maybe I just need to let this pass, but what if it doesn't?  No one wants you in the hospital unless you're suicidal but I can't see my psychiatrist every day to adjust things.  The doctor I like most working with, Dr. Rickard Larsen, has crappy facilities and refuse to let you wear your own clothes.  Plus, if you're there longer than a week they start talking about placement.  Dr. Trahan in another hospital gave me a chance to relax and not worry about being sent away.  He took the time to put me on lithium which had been suggested while I was in the hospital a few times, but no one wanted to take the time to do it.  Plus at Dr. Trahan's unit you can have your cell phone.

I have even lost interest in writing this.  And the point of it.  People read this and it is just letters on a monitor.  How do you give activities meaning, I mean, that's the point of activities, to hold your interest and yet, if you have no interest in them what are you supposed to do?

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I'm reading this a day later and today was better than yesterday.  I wasn't alone because my brother was around all day so maybe that's something I needed.  It also crosses my mind that I may be flipping into a manic cycle, especially since I've known myself to be rapid-cycling when new meds are introduced.  I didn't explain, I guess, about the med change; when I started getting headaches and migraines almost constantly again I went to see my neurologist and he put me on Neurontin which, beside a few nasty side effects, didn't work.  I got a hold of my neurologist and he switched me to Nortriptyline.  I am still tapering up but I've been known to go into hypomania with new antidepressants.  I'm hoping that's not where this is going.  I have responsibilities to my family to keep myself on level ground.

I am still having hallucinations, usually not something I can understand and outside my head, with a couple of exceptions.  I am still amazed (and not necessarily in a good way) about these voices I hear inside my head and the disassociative thoughts I'm having.  Before I hear them in my head I didn't think someone else's voice could be in my thoughts, but yet there they are and yes, I am crazy.

Of course "crazy" is not the right would but would be?  "Mental Illness" makes me feel like I've got the plague and I could "strip naked and cluck like a chicken" at any moment.  Then the reality sets in and I realize that, as much as I try to defend myself, I have only as much control of myself as my medications and body allow me.