(no subject)
It's been two weeks since I was released and the world seems to be so overwhelming to me now. I want quiet, and peace. But, alas living with four other people does not allow me to have such things.....it doesn't allow me to have a lot of things. I miss the freedom I used to have. I miss not feeling like a guest.
At this point I'm supposed to be making decisions about my future. I need to come to some conclusions and acknowledge my epiphanies. But, dammit, I can't! I can't function right now for some reason. I'm just working and living. There is so much I need to do right now.....right NOW!
Monday is my first session with Dr. Sastry. I'm not looking forward to delving into my issues. Seems I've been pushing things to the side a lot. That may be my problem....I just don't deal with anything at all and when I'm forced to I just recoil or lash out. The medication makes me itch and I have to most vividly disturbing nightmares, even more so than before. This morning I woke up in a cold sweat, panting and clawing at my head. My pajamas were soaked with sweat and I had claw marks all over. This is worse than the night terrors. But, thankfully I don't sleep much lately due to my noisy and idiotic roommates. God what I wouldn't give for a sound proof room! I'm a heavy sleeper....once I get to sleep.
I haven't heard from the forest since the night I got committed. Guess it's a good thing. Probably the only decent thing he's ever done for me is to shut the fuck up and go the fuck away. I hope he stays there. The more distance the less I give a shit about him, and the less I feel for him. Realizing what a loser and an idiot he is has helped me move on. I'm worth more than him. I'm worth more than what he had to offer, too. Hope I remember this in the future.
When I was in the looney bin they made us take classes. It was a little weird my first day because I had just come out of the emergency room from getting my stomach pumped along with a whole slew of other things; they plopped me in the middle of a classroom and force fed me jello.
That first day was a blur. I felt completely devoid of any kind of feeling, which was nice. People kept trying to talk to me, but my throat was wrecked so all I could do was whisper back short answers. In those classes I realized my problem was not as uncommon. I'm not a freak, and I'm not beyond help. But, identifying the core of my insanity was like seeing a light after an eternity of darkness. No, I am not sane. Who is?
Now that I'm out and back in the world as it is I recognize the things that set off my illness, and I've done my best to avoid those things. I've stayed in, I've left early, and I've canceled plans. I want to be alone right now, but I don't want to be. It's a frustrating dilemma. Friday night at 9 PM, and I'm sitting in my room writing when all I want to do is get dressed up and go out into the city. Drink, talk, fuck. That's what got me in a psyche ward with rubber padded socks. How is it that other people can have a lifetime of this shit and I can't go eight months without it ripping me to pieces? Maybe it takes a special breed of douche bag to live like that. I'm just not rotten enough to feel good about letting people use me and to live without basic human connection and intimacy.
I am feeling better. I quit drinking for two weeks. Drying out gave me time to think about how much I hate the person I am when I'm drunk. Of course I got hammered on Halloween, and felt like shit (physically and emotionally) the next day; even though I was somewhat well behaved.
Another thing I have to remember in the future. But right now it's taking every ounce of will to stay put. Let's hope I can manage that much.
At this point I'm supposed to be making decisions about my future. I need to come to some conclusions and acknowledge my epiphanies. But, dammit, I can't! I can't function right now for some reason. I'm just working and living. There is so much I need to do right now.....right NOW!
Monday is my first session with Dr. Sastry. I'm not looking forward to delving into my issues. Seems I've been pushing things to the side a lot. That may be my problem....I just don't deal with anything at all and when I'm forced to I just recoil or lash out. The medication makes me itch and I have to most vividly disturbing nightmares, even more so than before. This morning I woke up in a cold sweat, panting and clawing at my head. My pajamas were soaked with sweat and I had claw marks all over. This is worse than the night terrors. But, thankfully I don't sleep much lately due to my noisy and idiotic roommates. God what I wouldn't give for a sound proof room! I'm a heavy sleeper....once I get to sleep.
I haven't heard from the forest since the night I got committed. Guess it's a good thing. Probably the only decent thing he's ever done for me is to shut the fuck up and go the fuck away. I hope he stays there. The more distance the less I give a shit about him, and the less I feel for him. Realizing what a loser and an idiot he is has helped me move on. I'm worth more than him. I'm worth more than what he had to offer, too. Hope I remember this in the future.
When I was in the looney bin they made us take classes. It was a little weird my first day because I had just come out of the emergency room from getting my stomach pumped along with a whole slew of other things; they plopped me in the middle of a classroom and force fed me jello.
That first day was a blur. I felt completely devoid of any kind of feeling, which was nice. People kept trying to talk to me, but my throat was wrecked so all I could do was whisper back short answers. In those classes I realized my problem was not as uncommon. I'm not a freak, and I'm not beyond help. But, identifying the core of my insanity was like seeing a light after an eternity of darkness. No, I am not sane. Who is?
Now that I'm out and back in the world as it is I recognize the things that set off my illness, and I've done my best to avoid those things. I've stayed in, I've left early, and I've canceled plans. I want to be alone right now, but I don't want to be. It's a frustrating dilemma. Friday night at 9 PM, and I'm sitting in my room writing when all I want to do is get dressed up and go out into the city. Drink, talk, fuck. That's what got me in a psyche ward with rubber padded socks. How is it that other people can have a lifetime of this shit and I can't go eight months without it ripping me to pieces? Maybe it takes a special breed of douche bag to live like that. I'm just not rotten enough to feel good about letting people use me and to live without basic human connection and intimacy.
I am feeling better. I quit drinking for two weeks. Drying out gave me time to think about how much I hate the person I am when I'm drunk. Of course I got hammered on Halloween, and felt like shit (physically and emotionally) the next day; even though I was somewhat well behaved.
Another thing I have to remember in the future. But right now it's taking every ounce of will to stay put. Let's hope I can manage that much.