How Darkness Seeps In

I didn’t go to sleep till around 3 am. I had the itch to write but all that I wrote was “it’s late”. The rest of what I wrote was boring and I am going to toss it. I really wanted to write about the psychosis getting out of hand and switching antipsychotics but all I did was outline my thoughts. I guess it’s a start.

Around this time last year, I was signing and faxing papers for the New York Times as I wrote an article they would be publishing. It was exciting as I never dreamed of writing for the Times. It was an extremely high ego boost. But it didn’t last long as I crashed into a deep depression afterwards that stuck around and is still lurking around. I guess I have been depressed for almost a year now, my longest episode. The psychosis didn’t really affect me until November of last year. That was when the abilify stopped working for me and I just thought things were still going okay.

It wasn’t until my back went out and I got scared I would have to have surgery again that my depression really worsened, causing the psychosis to also worsen. Add in the stress of my father’s ill health and it was a perfect recipe for disaster. I started having the physical symptoms of depression and lost some weight because I wasn’t eating. It’s easy to reflect on this as time has passed but it wasn’t easy while I was going through it. The psychosis really got worse after the Orlando shooting. That is when I stopped taking the abilify because the voices told me to. I was under their command. I just thank my lucky stars that I didn’t call the FBI like I wanted to because I was so delusional. I wanted to let the FBI know that they should look for a parasite in the brain of the deceased gunman because that what was causing him to act the way he did. I truly believed there was aliens planted parasites in ISIS followers that was making them evil and do bad things. I still believe this.

The voices wanted me to take more medication than was necessary for a few weeks. It wasn’t until the paranoia got out of control that I decided to go to trilafon to help with all the craziness that was going on in my head. My therapist was fearful I was going to lose it or take my life. I also started emailing crazy stuff to my psychiatrist which she had to stop because it was not the run of the mill stuff I normally sent her. If I had to “talk” to her, I had to page her. I couldn’t understand but now I sort of do. What I was writing was a little concerning. But it was my new “normal”. It wasn’t until I was at an adequate dose of trilafon that I realized just how crazy I had been.

All throughout this psychotic phase I was going through, I didn’t think it was bad. I still don’t. I had become more distant from my feelings and empty. It was like I felt nothing. I was hollow. These feelings didn’t last long. They were then covered up with depressive feelings and sometimes suicidal stuff.

My chronic pain reached its breaking point. I had my last flare up and I was going to make sure that it was going to be my last. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. I am tired of living from flare up to flare up and having little to no relief for days. The only way I can get relief is by taking pain medication around the clock, and sometimes I have to take the strong pain meds to break the cycle. I am hindered in my activities and it sucks. Even walking around my own house is troublesome during these flare ups. I can’t make myself something to eat, showering is next to impossible, even brushing my teeth is a chore.

Dealing with mental illness and chronic pain is very difficult. It requires a balance. I am grateful I am not working because I think I would be dead by now. The emotional toll it takes to work, I just don’t have anymore. It was difficult in the beginning to get used to all the free time in the world that I had. Going to Starbucks provided some routine for me but on days when the depression was bad or my pain levels were out of control, even that routine was soon broken. Now I go whenever I can just to get out of the house for an hour or so. It’s rare that I will be out for more than two hours. My anxiety and paranoia get too much and I have to return home.

I spend the majority of my time in my room. I write, read, and follow Twitter and Facebook all from the comfort of my bed. I have to keep my left ankle elevated to keep it happy. It’s not like it won’t flare up because it can and will. I still haven’t figured out what makes it happy and what makes it really angry. I thought walking and standing aggravate it but I can have hours where I am on the bed and the slightest movement can hurt me. It’s so aggravating and frustrating because what causes it to hurt today, won’t cause it to hurt tomorrow. It is very depressing, which only intensifies my suicidal tendencies.

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Too Early to be in a bad mood

Too early to be in a bad mood

I woke up in a bad mood. I am trying not to let it get to me but it’s so difficult. I didn’t have any bad dreams nor am I in a lot of pain. My mood just sucks. I think it is because I emailed my psychiatrist last night and she hasn’t responded. It really makes me angry when she doesn’t say anything when I email her. Even one word and I would be happy because it would acknowledge that she got the email.

I plan on changing my sheets today. I was going to make sauce but decided that changing my sheets were more important. I am in too much of a mood to go downstairs and be with my mother. I really want to make pancakes for breakfast but my mother is still home. She usually leaves around 0930 to go to my aunt’s house. If I am still awake I will make them. I took some pain pills so I can do what I have to do today. My ankle is starting to throb so I just decided to head it off before it got worse. It gets worse and I won’t be able to do anything today that I want to do.

I still am feeling sad over the loss of my father. I guess that is one of the reason I am not in a good mood this morning. I got him on my brain. It is really tough to lose a parent, especially one that has caused you so much turmoil in your life. On one hand, you are grateful you don’t have to deal with his idiocy anymore but at the same time, you miss it. I remember at the last gathering we had, maybe Christmas, he was being a real jerk to me. Kept on making fun of me and what I was gathering on my plate. I didn’t have that much food on it but he thought I shouldn’t be eating that much. He was being such an ass. I hated him. He always treated me like I was doing something bad. I will never forget his laugh because he thought he was being funny. People have been telling me to remember the good memories and I laugh. There are no good memories with him. Only bad ones, some worse than others. He was never a kind, loving man. That is why this is so difficult. I never got the chance to tell him off, not that I would. I tolerated him because it was expected of me. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t see him for the rest of his days. Instead, I was there for the very last breath he took and it still haunts me till this day.

Games and Grief

Games and Grief

There are two games going on currently, the Sox (baseball) and the Pats (football). The Pats are winning and my Sox are dreadfully losing. I swore at them in the first inning when the pitcher game up a 3 run homerun. I literally turned off the TV and said fuck you in front of my mother but I don’t think she heard me because I probably would have either been yelled at or smacked. I was so pissed off.

My sister asked me to babysit my niece and the game only got worse as the night went on. Better for the Pats, even though their star kicker missed field goals that he normally would have hit. So instead of being ahead by 6 more points we aren’t. I forget what the score is right now. 9-3 I think.

I am feeling really agitated and I don’t know why. I already have taken 8 mg of trilafon for the day. I have taken my night meds which includes an Ativan so I am waiting for that to kick in. I have stopped looking at Twitter for game updates. It’s either making me laugh or feel really sad.

My sister still has pics of my father hanging around the house since after the funeral. I almost lost it again today but held it together. It has been four months since he has passed. I was reading a blog about how I started drinking after my father was in the hospital for something that I thought was my fault. In the blog, I didn’t say what he was in for but it really upset me. The blog was in Oct of 2014. I think that was when he had a GI bleed.

My father has been on my mind the past few days. I still can’t get the last time I looked at him while he was alive out of my head. I had just given him some medication and just stared at him for a little while. He died probably not even a half hour after that. So surreal.

I feel really sad and have been fighting back tears for the last two days. Yesterday, I opened a drawer and found his hankies that I had taken while going through his clothes after we cleaned out his apartment. I almost lost it then. I had forgotten about them and did wonder where I had put them.

A friend of mine just lost her mother maybe a week ago. She is having a hard time with the loss. Everything she does reminds her of her mother. Cleaning out her house was the toughest. I feel her pain, I really do. No one prepares you for the loss of a parent. It’s not in any school and your parents certainly don’t prepare you. It just happens and then you are left wondering what the hell happened. Was there more that could have been done for him/her? You hope they didn’t die in pain. I know my father didn’t die in pain. He passed away peacefully in his own bed, just like he wanted to. And my father always got what he wanted above all else.