I had a long morning. I kept on waking up from 0430 on till my alarm went off at 0630. I didn’t want to get up but I had to if I wanted coffee and breakfast before picking my father up. His appointment went well. I then scuttled off to my therapist’s office/town. It took me a good hour to get there as I hit every red light from one town to the next. I was traveling the back roads rather than the highway. Once I got to my Starbucks, I tried to edit but my brain was dead. I saw the words but it wasn’t holding my attention. I was too tired from the early morning awakenings and the drive out there. So I just pulled out my journal and wrote. I wrote about how I had to end a friendship because she kept on choosing bad habits and I was tired of seeing her hurt. She wanted someone else to save her but wouldn’t do anything to save herself. At least meet me half way but then she did what she intended to do that last night and I had to cut her off. She is just too toxic and I can’t be part of her injuring herself. I tried my best to help her but she is just too far away from me. I talked about it in therapy. I really didn’t want to, but it came up. My therapist is glad that made a “wise” decision but it still hurts me. I hate losing friends that are troubled. But I guess you can’t save them all if they can’t help themselves. I thought I could but I can’t. I just am not strong enough I guess.
We also talked about my upcoming date. She was pretty anxious about being here for a week and then leaving me to my own devices. With the stuff going on with my friend, I kind of forgot my own troubles for a bit. But leave it to my therapist to bring it up again. We talked about Hyde and how he comes about, or not. We haven’t pinned down exactly what triggers him. I could be writing something grand and then he will come in and write something awful. I have no way of knowing. It’s making me scared to write anything for fear of the white coats being called on me. My therapist asked if one of the journals I had bought was for Hyde. Hell no. He isn’t going to be in a nice journal. He will be in a composition notebook. But the things is, as well as that sounds, there is no guarantee he will use it. He might just use a word doc or email someone in the dead of night. I have warned people that if they should get a message from me late at night to just delete it or ignore it. Trouble is, they have not done so. The best I can describe when Hyde takes over is that I am in a dreamlike state. I am vaguely aware of what is going on. I have intense feelings of pain, anguish, and despair. And I have an agitation to write something, anything, to express these “bad” feelings. I don’t know where Hyde came from. He is a part of me, I know that. But just like cutting is to my friend, so is Hyde to my writing. I have just swapped out cutting for writing and it’s with poison ink! Some day I know I might be hospitalized again for my words. And I am going to have no recollection of this happening. It’s like I stepped out, Hyde takes over, and I write. I am not malicious, except to describe how terrible I feel. My psych wants code words and my therapist wants a notebook. How am I going to satisfy both when I have no idea what is happening until the next morning. Because soon after my/his words are exhausted, I fall into a restful slumber and wake up thinking it was a dream. I am safe as far as I know. Hyde has never taken lethal action against me. I think the writing wears him out and then he is too tired to act on the feelings he is writing about. Either that, or the cocktail of meds that I take finally give in and puts him/me out. But what brings on Hyde remains a mystery, least for now.
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