Beees!!

Feeling a little wacky today. It's over 100 degrees here, and I've already been outside most of the day. I just came back in, and now I'm twitchy. I want to go out and do something, but it really is oppressive out there. I'm not sure what to do with myself.

I'm chugging water, and that doesn't seem to help. I've got a headache and I feel like I could just lie down and nap. Sigh.

But you know what's cool? I don't feel like drinking booze. I was having a little trouble there for a while, just because I wanted an escape, but traveling a little has solved that. Perhaps I should just become a professional traveler? A gypsy?

I've lost control

To play on that theme: I'm not in control of my life. I feel absolutely out of control. I spent the past 7 years totally on my own; paying my own bills, buying cars, renting apartments, moving, etc. And now? I have nothing. My mom has my car and dog, my life is in storage, and I'm living with dad. I feel trapped (I am trapped. I can't afford to move). It's a debilitating feeling.

So what do I want to do? Well, what do I have control over? My body! Right! So what do I want to do with my body? Well, besides smoke, I want change! What does change look like? Hair dye. Piercings. New tattoos.

I bought new lipstick yesterday, hoping that would do something. It's nice. And I do like to experiment with lipstick. But I would have to get dressed and leave the house, too. So, no going to happen. Well, that's not true. I've been out of the house a lot and with a lot of different people. Just not lipstick places.

Piercings. Can't think of where I would want one. I think I'm done with piercings.

Hair dye. Or hair changes. This is a valid option, though my hair is finally its natural color and a nice length. I like it the way it is. I do love really short hair, but people tell me I look like a lesbian, and that's no way to attract a boy. Man. I should say man. Boys are stupid. Let's look for a man. Ugh, I don't even want to think about that.

I'm getting my next installation of tattoo at the end of March. It's a long time to wait! Jesus. A month?

Ok, now my head hurts. I just want to go back to bed....

Chaos rules the day

I gathered my strength and drove to the neighboring state for an interview today, and when I got back home my dad and my aunt had taken over my room. They moved all the furniture to the middle of the room and then painted. Everything is piled high, but luckily I had most of it in boxes in storage already.

"I want them to start in your room first," dad says. Which is good, because then they'll be out of my room first and I can re-arrange it the way I want. But they took down the curtain. So I'm sitting here exposed to the street. We're on the 6th floor, but it's pretty much at eye level with the hill in front of the apartment building. The building across the street was torn down, so I have a nice view of the office building two streets away. I bet the cleaning ladies don't care what I'm up to, but it's creepy to be so exposed. I don't even know where the curtains are, or I'd put them back up.

So I went to therapy. "My life is chaos. I want to cry. I think the meds are working, cause I'm not suicidal, but I sure as hell am depressed." And Julie gave me the speech: there are people worse off than you, you have a lot going for you, the universe is aligning to help you out, blah blah blah, go buy yourself flowers. So I did. Pretty, purple tulips.

I wandered the aisles of CVS for over an hour and bought all sorts of shit I didn't need, like new lipstick, and shit I did, like travel size contact cleaner. Then I went to the grocery store and bought 100-calorie packs of Oreos and some ice cream. I grabbed the flowers and, feeling a little better, walked home.

I get home and dad says, "Aren't you allergic to flowers? I am. Your mom is, too." No, actually, I'm cool. I can't stand the high perfumey ones, but tulips are fine. Then he tries to talk to me about moving stuff again, and how I need to put more stuff in boxes. So I ran away and took a nice hot shower. I even shaved my legs and then plucked my eyebrows. Self care. A little self-love.

And I still feel insane. I need to move out and be in control of my own life again!

Alright, Phil. I'm counting on you

So tomorrow is Groundhog day and I'm hoping little Phil brings with him some good news. I, personally, love the snow and don't mind the longer winters at all, but let's use Phil as a gauge on how I'm going to feel this spring.

My aunt sent me an email. "I know it is taking every thing you have to keep it together. Only a few more days, the medicine will begin to work and it will be looking better. Tomorrow is groundhog day and I am sure that little critter will say that winter is coming to an end."

Finally, someone that understands. It seems like everyone else is expecting me to hold it together, and she actually acknowledges that it's taking every fiber of my being to not break down completely. And I've made my dad a worried mess, now. I knew I shouldn't have told him how I was feeling, and I even left out the suicidal ideation part.

I yelled at Adam earlier because he said I was "bullheaded" and "don't reach out for help." I call shennanigans. I asked my dad for help buying the meds that came too late; I got a therapist, that's help; I got on meds as soon as possible, that's help. What other help could I possibly ask for? He's "detaching with love" or whatever, so it's not like I'm heaping my burdens on him or anyone else. I don't ask for what I don't need. I don't need him worrying about if I'm going to kill myself. That's psychic energy he could be using to keep himself on track.

I am bad at reaching out, but I've done it this time. Things just, still, didn't work out the way I had hoped. Instead, I've got all this anxious energy to deal with and no outlet except eating. I should really go to the gym (If I keep saying it, will it come true?).

Just read the list

Why? Seriously? Why do I have to have another interview? I just got a call to have an interview next week ("It'll be an hour but save some time after for the writing sample.") for a great position. So why do I have to feel like this? And to have to do a writing test? I'm having trouble typing and making sense on my own blog! I can't possibly make sense to a panel of academics! Jesus. I'm in trouble.

No, I'm fine. I just need to calm down about it. Everything is going to be fine.

I don't know what to do with myself right now. I took more Seroquel, and I know if I lie down I'll be able to rest, but I'm up and getting panicky. I have a few hours before therapy, and I'm just sitting here reading articles. Of course, I can only read the first sentence of every paragraph before it gets too confusing to continue, so a lot of them don't make sense. But this one did: "Top 10 Cracks that Crack and Other Addicts Fall Through on Their Way to Recovery." It's just a list of stuff that can trip you up in early sobriety. I was going to write a post around it, but I lost the point.

The plan 2

Ok. I need a plan for when I feel like this. Who can I call? Who do I reach out to? When I think of names all I can think of are the reasons why I shouldn't call them.

So wait, maybe what I need to decide is what's best for me when I feel like that? What do I want? Jesus, I don't know. I don't want to leave the house because I start to get paranoid about accidents and metro cars. I start getting really scared of accidental death and dismemberment. I know it doesn't make sense to be suicidal and yet scared of something happening, but that's what happens.

I don't know what I would want from people, so I don't know the right person to call. I suppose having the person in the same general vicinity is a good right step. Someone who can get to me. Yeah, being with someone else is good. Being alone is bad.

Sleep is good. Sleep is less confusing. I'm all confused, now. My brain is just all up in arms. Nothing is making sense, and it's giving me a headache. I'm starting to feel crazy again, and I haven't even had any caffeine. Time for more Seroquel.

The plan 1

"The most important thing to remember is this - your symptoms have gone away BECAUSE THE MEDS ARE WORKING! It's not necessarily because you've been cured. There are no cures for a lot of these disorders. It's not your fault that you're crazy, but it is your responsibility to stay as sane as possible. You're not the only person you hurt if you really flip out."

Just like it's my responsibility to stay sober, it's my responsibility to stay sane. But Adam reminded me last night that that doesn't mean I have to go it alone. One of the most awful parts about depression is that your brain convinces you you are all alone. I have a million phone numbers in my phone, email addresses, friends on Facebook, etc., but in that moment when I was freaking out all I could think was, "There's no one I can tell." Now, is that true? No. Am I going to freak someone out? Probably. But is that ok? Probably. That's what friends are for. They're there for you in bad times, too.

Adam asked me to make a list, a personal care packet, almost. My "plan for safety." Hm. Plan. My plan is to not drink so much caffeine. I feel shitty today, but it's a different kind of shitty. I'm not buzzy, but I'm still having racing thoughts and such. They're going so fast that I'm having trouble stopping them to pull one out. It's funny, I catch myself sitting here like a schizophrenic listening to voices - staring up in the corner of my head, just waiting for the one I want to repeat.

Right. Plan. I told my dad I was feeling crappy and now all he can do is tell me to go to the gym. "You should go get those endorphins going or they're no-dorphins." Dork. He's trying. He also thinks a lot of it is just the coming off of the meds. "It's been 2 weeks, dad." "Yes, but I'm sure they're still coming out of your system. It took me a month to get all the caffeine out." How long did it take me to get the booze out? Month, two? I don't remember now, but the physical symptoms were gone much sooner than the mental. But how can you tell whether the mental symptoms you are having are because you are not on meds and your brain chemistry is crazy stew, or because you're coming down off meds? I haven't found anything good on the internet, yet, but I'll share when I do.

I still haven't given you a plan, have I? Cause I don't have one that lasts past the week. Sleep, Seroquel, work, meetings. Yeah, I'm still including meetings on there. I promised Paul I would go tomorrow and see if the woman he wants to hook me up with is there. I just learned I have to work Thursday, so no 6am womens meeting, which I'm on-and-off ok with. I should hit the 8:30 tonight after therapy, but I probably won't. I don't want to leave the house too much. I feel weird enough, and driving has been making me paranoid.

This is getting long.

Ignore me, I'm just rambling now

I'm feeling crazy and so what am I doing? That's right, drinking more caffeine. Cause that helps. Now that I have a plan, I can't wait to go upstairs and take the damn Seroquel. According to the website it could give me all sorts of great side effects, but I know the one it will give me: a little peace; sleep. I can't wait to just go to sleep and not wake up till I have to be back at work on Wednesday morning. I have nothing to do till then except go to meetings, but leaving the house might be out of the question for a while. I'm going to have to tell my dad not to worry about me; that I need to hibernate or I'm not going to make it. Course, I'm not phrasing it that way.

Here's a fun little distraction: drugs for bipolar and their side effects.

A call for help

Help.

I have my therapy appointment tomorrow, and the doc appointment for meds on Thursday, but I know I feel crazy NOW, and that even new meds won't make me feel better for a while. I would take the Seroquel, but that is just going to make me a zombie and I have to work. I'm the only person here every morning till Feb when the boss gets back from overseas. There's no one I can call and have cover my shifts, or I would probably check myself into someplace right now. I've never been so close to picking up the phone and calling the white coats; raising the white flag. I'm done. I feel nuts. I'm itching out of my skin.

I don't want to kill myself. I want to hurt myself, though. It always makes me feel better to bleed. It gives me that nice, calm feeling. What else helps? Not being awake, but I don't have that choice. Drinking myself unconscious, but that's not going to help.

I want to call someone, but I don't know who or what they would do. Everyone I know is at work, and I can't leave work yet. And what would they do? Sit with me? I'm no fun right now, and I don't need a babysitter, yet. Could I call Emily? Why? So she can sit halfway across the States and worry about me? No. Adam. No. I don't want to lean on him too much. Diane? She's nuts, and she'd leave work to come hang out with me, but she's got a 3 year-old to manage. That's unfair. Though yesterday she asked me to hang out with her more. "I'm lonely, too," she said.

I have nothing to give right now. I'm a total mess. Should I call the doc and ask for an emergency appointment today? Maybe when I get off work I'll just go to the club and go to continuous meetings. They have them from 2pm -8:30pm tonight. I could just stay there and drink coffee. Then, I'm not alone or near knives, and I can bum smokes if it gets ridiculous.

The big question is: do I tell my dad? The man lives with me for Christ's sake, but I don't think he has a clue just how bad things are. No. No need to worry him.

I'm going to go upstairs when I get off at 1 and take the Seroquel. I won't be going to a meeting (cause it makes me too drowzy to drive) but at least I'll sleep.

To medicate or not to medicate?

Bear with me, here.

Ok. So, I was diagnosed with a serious, life-threatening, long-term, incurable illness at 15. It's called bipolar disorder. How did they know? Because I was a pretty horribly depressed, weird, kind of violent, and crazy teenager whose mother was bipolar. And so they put me on litium. But what if I was just a regular teenager whose life was falling apart and so acted out? What if it wasn't mental illness? What if it was just... life? And now, 16 years later, what if all those drugs caused a mental illness?

Have I been off drugs for a period of time before? Yes. How'd it go? Not so hot. I was off drugs in college for a while (a year or more? I can't remember) and was a crying mess most of the time. But, I was also working 2 jobs, playing a sport, and taking 15 credits a semester. Anyone would be a crying mess. It was stressful. I was also constantly rescuing my mom from the streets or hospitals. It wasn't a good time for me, overall.

So now I'm off drugs again, not by my choice, but such is life. But I do have a choice of whether to get back on them or not. Of course, I'm 30, unemployed, living at home, and most of my close friends are 3,000 miles away, so it's not exactly a stable mental health environment for experimentation. Anyone would be a crying mess.

But maybe I'll stay off of them. I can't afford them. No matter what he gives me it's going to be a financial burden, and my number one peeve is financial instability. Sure, I feel like I'm going to freak out, but that could be because my body is just getting used to not being on drugs. It's used to the free and easy source of stabilizing chemicals. Like any addict coming down, you get a little weird for a while.

I don't know. I hate being dependant on them, but I'm so used to it that it's ok. I hate paying for them, but I've just been conditioned to keep doing it. Now that there's this break... I know, I know. I've been freaking out lately. But is it mental illness or life? Let's discuss.

Once an addict...

“Caffeine-induced psychosis, whether it be delirium, manic depression, schizophrenia, or merely an anxiety syndrome, in most cases will be hard to differentiate from organic or non-organic psychoses….

The treatment for caffeine-induced psychosis is to withhold further caffeine.” Duh.

If you're a conspiracy theorist, I think this site is awesome. "Thousands are in mental institutions today because of no greater matter than that of the use of caffeine." I mean, they're right, caffeine isn't so hot for crazy people. It exacerbates your symptoms by making you even more anxious, but I don't know if I believe that people get themselves hospitalized because of it. I know all the caffeine I drink has got to be bad for me, but screw it, I've got nothing left. I'm not going to limit myself and be one of those people who takes in no toxic substances (I would have to quit meds, too). I just want to enjoy my life, and coffee makes me happy. Sure, I could cut out soda, and I will someday. Not right now. Look what happens when I cut out all my crutches? I go crazy and have nothing to lean on.

Let's not demonize everything. I understand, everything in moderation, and I suck at moderation, but let me have my caffeine! I suppose no one but me is talking about taking it away. There's no one out there pressuring me to stop drinking coffee. No one is saying, "Anne, you've obviously got a problem with caffeine." There's no support group for coffee-heads. I'm just all up in my head about everything. Feeling crazy and need something to blame? Let's look at your caffeine intake.

Sometimes the internet isn't good for me.

Sweet smell of nicotine

Cigarettes. I can smell them. I don't know if someone out on the loading dock is smoking (I'm at work) or if it's just in my nostrils because I'm an addict and my brain can pull tricks like that. I can smell them, though. I know they're out there. Actually, they're right behind me on the shelf. We don't sell my brand, but I don't think that would matter to me much right now. All I want is a cigarette.

But I told you last night I had a drag and it was awful, right? I couldn't eveinhale it. It just made me cough. But I loved the smell, the art of it. I wanted one.

Why do I want a cigarette so much? Cause I'm losing my mind. Cigarettes are my comfort, my security blanket. More than drinking, smoking is what I did to feel better. It kept me breathing at steady rates: in, and out. I have a tendency to hold my breath when I'm stressed, but smoking makes you breathe.

So what do I do? How do I get through this "hump" without substances? I suppose if I can make it now I can do it forever, but we'll see. What's nice is I don't want to drink. I made up my mind that being an embarrassment is bad, and I'm not going back there. But smoking just smells; it doesn't make you act like an idiot. Maybe I shouldn't have quit.

Poor Job

"The word "forsaken" refers to an experience of total abandonment that leaves individuals feeling alone in their time of greatest need. Recall Job in the Old Testament, crumpled over and covered with sores, pleading with a seemingly indifferent God."

And now I'm just being dramatic, but forsaken is a great word. When you're depressed you often feel forsaken. Sure, you have friends, but none of them are there for you or understand what you're going through. Of course, since you're depressed, you probably haven't reached out to them to let them know any of this, but still, they've forsaken you. The world has forsaken you. No one understands, no one is on your side. You're all alone in this. Right. Here we are, again, alone in a crowded building.

I reached out to Jennifer last night, and I let Diane reach me today, but I'm still having a case of the forsakens. I need a little more attention, I think. I need, need, need.

Can I tell you something? I thought about killing myself yesterday. Just for a little bit. I didn't have a plan or even try to think of one, I just thought about going away. Life is tough! It just seems to be getting tougher, and I seem to be getting more isolated even though I'm reaching out. I know a lot of it is situational: I have a lot to be depressed about, and I'm out of meds still. So I let myself sit with it for a minute and the feeling passed, as feelings do.

I'm still here today. I didn't cut, I didn't smoke, I didn't drink, and I'm not out somewhere trying to pick up a boy. All in all, it's a success.

I'm crazy and so are you

“You are someone who is different, but who wants to be the same as everyone else. And that in my view is a serious illness.”

“Live. If you live, God will live with you. If only everyone could know and live with their inner craziness…people would be fairer and happier.”

I'm not a crazy person, I know that. I may have a mental illness, and I may look at the world in a way that others might think is odd, but I know right from wrong; up from down. Sometimes I label myself and all of my emotions. "You're just manic; You're just depressed," instead of it's ok to be happy, or sometimes things can make you sad. It doesn't all have to be based on the chemical imbalance in my brain. I can feel, you know. I'm allowed.

I need to give myself a little more credit for being human. I do a pretty damn good job. I go through stressful things and don't fall apart. I linger on Adam too much, but everyone has their Achilles heel. I can be up, down, normal, and these things are just fine - just sane.

So how do I let myself just live? How can I let go of all the things that tell me, "Don't do that! You'll look crazy! People will think you're manic!" You know what? Screw "them." I am me. Me is a little kooky. Me likes excitement and adventure. Me is willing to do funny and outrageous things. Me is willing to give all. And that's not crazy, that's living.

Crazy, crazy for feelin so crazy

Michael and I were talking tonight about our lives, and he said something that explains exactly how I feel: "And nothing feels worse than being safe and secure, and yet, insecure and unsafe."

I have a place to live, in fact, a great place to live, but I feel homeless. I have money coming in, not a lot, but some, and yet I feel like I'm just mooching off the state. I have a resume that's gotten me 8 interviews, but I feel like I have no qualifications. Safe, yet unsafe. Secure, yet insecure.

Everything is just so up in the air. I don't even know anything. I don't know what to talk about! I'm just so lost right now. I'm starting to feel it. I'm starting to feel.... Crazy. Not like I want to drink, but like I want to have sex. I know, that's new, you're thinking, but it's not. I use sex to feel worse about myself when I'm feeling bad, but can't figure it out. I really want to just go out somewhere and find someone to sleep with. Usually I do that by finding a bar and having someone buy me drinks, but that's not going to work. And I can't just Craigslist it, because my dad would know that I left. I'm never going to get laid this way.

But I suppose that's good. I'm not supposed to have sex till my one year is up, and although I've been bad about that, I have only done it twice, and with people I know well. I've been good. Now I don't feel like I want to continue to play this game. I want some of my destructive behaviors back. I don't want to feel good - I want to feel like I feel inside.

I'm still going to quit smoking, Monday, but right now I'm going to substitute sex for a cigarette. Jesus, what the hell am I going to do when cigarettes are gone!?

The Zoo

In the middle of the night I seem to find all sorts of interesting articles to write about, and now in the middle of a slow Sunday I got nothing.

I finally fell asleep and slept until 2 in the afternoon. My family ditched me and went to the Zoo, which I think I'm a little insulted about. I can't believe they didn't even wake me to ask me if I wanted to go. I love the Zoo. But I did need sleep. I'm considering just going back to bed, but I put on regular clothes in hopes that I'll get up the energy to go to a meeting. Maybe I should go for a run, too. Maybe that will make me feel a little less crazy. I really do need to call a psychiatrist. I have one here that I trust, but he's not on my insurance. Maybe I'll call and see how expensive he is without insurance. I'd rather be with someone I trust.

I didn't take my meds cause I got up so late, so I'm sure it's not going to help with the crazy feelings. I have two interviews tomorrow and one on Tuesday, so I need to be normal. My friend yesterday said I was exuding confidence, even radiance, but I think that's because I was with Adam. He brings out the best in me, and I always feel better around him. I try not to feel crazy, and I usually don't.