What a quietly, secretly, painfully wretched period of lucidity. The mental shifts leave me confused and terrorized. Before when my entire collection lovingly devoted itself to me, it was upon me before it had a name. Now each symptom has a name, an assignment, and apparently a vision, but they aren’t working in communion, they’re all over the place, like snipers from disparate rebel factions, but with just the single target. Well, they share a warzone. They created it. But the landscape in there – sometimes it looks like a small space and sometimes I wish there were more clearly defined property lines. These conditions aren’t ones for lines though. They dismantle every defense like, well, to quote Gerard Way, “a bullet through a flock of doves.” Except there is nothing dove-like about my mind.
Everything I say is wrong, everything I do is wrong, and, I’m quickly realizing, everything I think is also wrong. I used to be a real master communicator, personally, professionally, I even thought I had a way with animals. Now your average golden retriever probably wouldn’t give me the time of day. My ability to mask it is a bit of a surprise, I suppose that comes with knowing who you’re dealing with. I have never known paranoia, but suddenly I feel personally left out, unwanted, blown off, second class. I didn’t know Borderline or CPTSD or Major Depression or Anxiety Disorder could disarm the foundation of ones confidence. Even in my darkest hours, I felt guilt, shame, regret – tangible and sharp, viscerally tearing – these feeling led to a general, opaque aura of worthlessness, uselessness, purposelessness. And these things made me wish and wish and WISH, and at times take active steps, to not BE.
Bad as all of that was, and – to anyone who made it to this entry via common mental health issues – familiar as it may be, I never took it personally. This may appear to conflict, but you can detach enough to transcend any otherwise related questions of identity – it never mattered who or what I was, just that whatever it was wasn’t worth anything to anyone overall and more particularly not worth anything to me. So I pined for death almost clinically.
But this, the disorganized cluster of symptoms right now, coupled with every possible complication on the outside, it’s really just too much to take. It may be the new med, after managing without any regular medication beyond benzos for a year, the Adderall may be fucking me up in ways it shouldn’t, or maybe my mind is really fragmenting. I looked up the original black box label for it and where mental health is concerned Adderall appears to be dangerous specifically to folks with Bipolar Disorder. I don’t have that. Reading
further into the warnings, however, it does say that anyone with even a family history of depression or suicide should be VERY closely evaluated before having it prescribed. My new psychiatrist suggested it 30 minutes after meeting me and we never talked about the past because I said none of it was presenting. But now it is all presenting, along with some new friends. Or not-friends.
I’ll shut up soon. This post is as disorganized as my mental state. At any given moment I feel unnatural and ill-placed sentimentality (which never leads down a good path), conflict about critical relationships, emptiness, worthlessness, a boredom that borders on psychosis (hmmm, I could break EVERY SINGLE THING IN THIS HOUSE, starting with the cabinets, moving on to the plasma, then the art collection that is my life’s blood), small- and large-scale paranoia (am also convinced that a home invasion is imminent), a brutal anxiety that batters me at every turn, sudden fierce impatience and anger that is baseless in its tenacity, a restlessness that makes me want to flee the state, and a pervading psychic FEAR. And that’s the scariest part.
Now I’m going to curl up in my bed and beg it – out loud – to please go away. Or maybe pleading as if I am powerless is not the way to go. GET THE FUCK OUT, ALL OF YOU, OR I WILL OBLITERATE YOU. Just, I don’t quite know how to obliterate them without obliterating everything else. Screw that, admit to no weakness.PISS OFF, DEPRESSION, YOU AND YOUR UNITED NATIONS DELEGATION OF MENTAL DETERIORATION. YOU’RE A BUNCH OF PRICKS, YOU MANIPULATE PEOPLE’S WEAKNESSES AND THINK IT MAKES YOU STRONG. IT DOESN’T, IT MAKES YOU A BULLY. AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, HAVE A BATH AND A NEW WARDROBE, YOU LOOK LIKE RUBBISH.
And if you don’t go, there’s this dog I know…