Well it’s certainly been a while. Today is the first day I’ve felt like myself in months. The doctor did end up prescribing adderall and it’s been a miracle. I don’t even know what else to say. I have nothing to rant about. I feel human today. I cleaned the whole kitchen, even though just yesterday it was too overwhelming for me. I’ve actually accomplished something!
Things could be better, but things could be worse. I’m stabilizing slowly. The confusion is bad, but illicit adderall is helping. My doctor is hesitant to prescribe it because of my anxiety, but it fights the anxiety because it makes me active, social, and constructive. Proactive even. I left the house a few times and I was fine. I wish I could tell her this, but it’ll get me into trouble. I just want help. I’m desperate.
Now that I can roll my own cigarettes, every cigarette is a spliff.
I’m in a terrible rut. Crashing from a mixed episode, so says the pdoc. Not doing so hot. That’s it.
Day one on the perphenazine, and so far so good. No racing thoughts, no real anxiety. I had a breakdown because we were supposed to go over to a friend’s tonight, but the agoraphobia got the best of me. So no improvement there. And there’s the constant, uncomfortable drowsiness. I can’t type well. So that’s that.
Home alone and hearing a man’s voice coming from the back room. The girls who used to live here used to joke that this house was haunted, especially the laundry room which is back there. I didn’t know this until I mentioned to Zach that I was hearing radio voices back there and he mentioned their story, So I don’t know what to believe. But I’m home alone and freaking out. UGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH,
The last thing my paranoid brain needs is a nuclear threat, no matter now ridiculous it really is.
The thing that keeps me going, besides Zach’s neverending support and love, are my animals. Right now my littlest cat is patting me on the arm because she wants to cuddle. My pit bull is sleeping in the sun in the bay window and the Fox Hound is lying on the recliner pointing her big brown eyes at me. I don’t know where the other cats are, but I’m sure they’re being cute somewhere.
So I can’t hate my life. I can’t hate the series of events that brought me here to this place at this time. I’m surrounded by love. So what if I’m mentally ill? I’m completely surrounded by love. Everyone in this house loves me. That includes AJ, because he thinks of me as his “sis”. That makes me happy. So many things are making me happy right now. I’m so happy I’m trying not to cry. Life has its downs, but the ups sure are awesome. I hope I always remember that.
Brain like a fucking bullet train.
I got too fucked up on the cannabutter muddy buddies and threw up all my meds last night. Like damn, I was munching on them like they were just regular shits. Fuck, I was high. Plus I smoked like 3 bowls. Barf central. There’s a first for everything.
But I’ve maintained a nice buzz all day. I’m only going to edible it up before bed.
I love being high and watching Dance Moms. Like, I know I’m a drain on society, a mentally ill pariah, but the perk is sitting on your ass watching trash TV and not having to give any fucks.
I’m starting a new med. Perphenazine? For the breakthrough psychosis. She mentioned it to me last month, I refused it, now it’s being forced (well, not forced, she’s not that kind of doctor. It’s just that now I’m backed into a corner because I can’t tolerate a high dose of Seroquel and Zyprexa fucks up my blood sugar). “Forced” is a bad word, sorry. I’m not being coerced. I’m just out of options.
I’m such a mess. I’m trying to be a happy-ish mess, but I’m constantly fighting the urge to cry. We’re supposed to go to Zach’s parents this weekend. Jesus fucking christ the anxiety.