Day I – Partial Hospitalization

Group group group. I think I’m going to like this program. Once again, I’m the youngest person in the group (at least of those who attended today), but everyone’s real friendly and extremely open. I kept thinking of that quote from Fight Club; “Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big, rubbery one.”

There was a man there who’d been in the hospital with me in December, but thankfully he was one of the nicer men and not one who’d hit on me.

At first I was a bit apprehensive about the group, and I thought about walking out, but I soon warmed up to it. You can’t help but feel a closeness to people being so honest about their lives.

Each group lasts an hour (three in a day) and then we break for cigarettes / coffee / food. Truthfully, I was falling asleep through most of today because I haven’t been sleeping well lately. The seroquel’s sedative effect seems to have worn off and instead just keeps me awake at night. I sat in a chair next to the counselor with my hair over my face, but I always looked at whoever was speaking so I wouldn’t seem rude.

We filled out a worksheet on perfectionism, which I at first thought was going to be a ton of shit, but it was actually kind of informative, especially finding out who had what issues with various degrees of perfectionism (we all had some problem with it).

Most people in the group are dealing with depression / bipolar disorder / suicidal thoughts. This is usually what I encounter in groups like this, but I’ll probably always feel a bit awkward no matter how many times it happens, as most of the time I can’t relate to what others talk about. I did try to speak up when I could. One man is bulimic, but I didn’t feel comfortable talking about my past with eating disorders during my first meeting. I wasn’t pushed to speak, either, it being my first group and all. I did speak at the very end, though. I think I surprised everyone with what I had to say, and I was a bit nervous talking about my hallucinations and delusions, but I talked, anyway.

I originally planned to go back on Wednesday, but I was asked to return tomorrow instead. They like to have new members attend two days in a row, and tomorrow there won’t be as many people, so I’ll probably get to talk more.

These groups really make me realize .. how do I put this in words? Not that my problems aren’t “that bad” or anything. I suppose they make me realize how young I am? How blessed I am in certain respects. Most people I’ve met through various mental health programs over the years have been decades older than me, sometimes having no family, really struggling financially, etc. I almost feel like a spoiled brat telling them that my parents help me with everything. I kept thinking of one of Simon Price’s interviews with Richey Edwards when he asked, speaking on Richey’s hospitalizations, “Do you ever think ‘I don’t belong here’?” and Richey replied, “I think I had just as much right to be there as anybody else.” That’s basically how I think as well. Everyone’s got problems. I’m not there to be the worst case of all, nor do I think I’m above any of these people. We’re all struggling the same, in various ways.

Disturbia

I couldn’t stay asleep last night. I woke up every few hours or so.

Around five in the morning, I kept feeling the presence of my dog around. My dog died in October. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I felt that I had to perform a certain task in order to bring my dog back to life. It happened the same way it happens when I suddenly feel that I should start cutting up my arm or burning my wrist. I wandered out to the kitchen and got the large container of salt. Then I found a paper plate and green highlighter. I wrote “MANDY” on the plate with the marker and placed it on the carpet in the living room. Then I poured a circle of salt around it. After that, I went back to bed and fell asleep.

When I woke up this morning and came out of my room, my mom and brother were standing over the salt / plate and asked me what it was. I said I thought it would bring Mandy back. My mom hugged me and said, “I wish it were that simple.” She hugged me again a bit later on and started crying a bit.

I don’t know what’s going on anymore. To myself, I don’t feel that I’m that crazy, but I realize that I’m being instructed to do things that are a bit strange to others. It’s different than it’s been before. I feel guided to do things, not threatened. Sometimes I wonder if I really am talking to the dead. I don’t know what to think. I can tell this is all hurting others though, which is what most upsets me.

In other news of what’s been going on lately, I start the partial hospitalization program on Monday. I went in for an assessment yesterday, and quite a few of the questions asked upset me because I had to talk about things from my past that I usually like to not think about. It really set me off for a while, but I had therapy later on and that helped calm me down.

My therapist told me that I have a very blunted affect, and she asked me a series of questions about my emotions. I told her that I haven’t truly felt much of anything since I was about twelve. I can recognize social cues (like an angry face, crying due to being sad) and react to them, so she said that proves I have the ability to be empathetic, but as for how I show emotions myself, it’s extremely limited.

I’m going through another period of intense paranoia lately. I’ve deleted a lot of things of mine from the internet. It’s difficult for me to even write here sometimes. I feel like all of this is going to be used against me. I’ve had people make fun of me recently online and that’s only helped fuel all of this and make me think that how I see everything is true. The only way I’m able to keep writing here currently is to remind myself that it’s helping others somehow. Lately, I don’t really understand what’s going on, and it’s difficult for me to even think of myself as dealing with an illness, because it all feels so normal and “right,” but somewhere I know the truth.

I drew this sometime last week, and I think it’s an accurate self-portrait of how I feel currently. Nothing much feels “real” anymore, and it’s almost as if I’m disappearing except for a small portion of my true self that’s left.

Sick of being sick

My psychiatrist took me off the zyprexa and gave me seroquel instead. I took seroquel years ago to help me sleep, and I don’t remember it giving me any side effects except occasional grogginess, so I hope this works out.

Since I’m not working or going to school currently, my psychiatrist recommended a partial hospitalization program. It’s held five days a week, but my insurance will only allow me to attend three days. I’m going in tomorrow afternoon for an assessment.

I’ve felt sort of all right lately again. I went out yesterday with Jake for a little bit and felt pretty normal. I’m really tired lately, for some reason, but that seems to be the only thing that’s bothering me. My psychotic symptoms seem to have faded out a bit, which is a relief.

In a daze cos I found God

My perception of reality has really been off lately. It varies in levels of severity. This morning is particularly bad. I feel disconnected to my surroundings again. I move slowly. I feel like there’s a radio / tracking device in my teeth that plays violin music. Obviously, I can’t remove my teeth, so I have to put up with it. I also, on some level, know that, in reality, there’s nothing really there.

I keep finding “signs” that mean I’m on the right track in my thinking that certain music means something. Nirvana has a song called “Lithium” that I’m particularly infatuated with right now. Lithium is a drug used to treat bipolar disorder. I take that and the line about finding friends “they’re in my head” to mean that what I think is true.

There’s a feeling of intense fear as well. I feel watched and keep seeing things. I thought the water in the sink was going to turn in to razorblades as I washed my hands. I’m afraid to shower because I think something bad will happen to me through the water. I think I’m going to be shot in the head by a sniper.

I see my psychiatrist tomorrow to fix my medication. Currently, I’m taking 10mg of zyprexa and 150mg of zoloft. The zoloft works all right, but I feel the zyprexa isn’t doing anything, but if it’s increased, the side effects outweigh anything good it might do for me.

I keep thinking that none of this is real, that I’m just creating it .. for fun? Except I’m not having any fun experiencing this. I’ve had people accuse me of being a hypochondriac of mental health issues in the past, and I guess it’s stuck with me. I know my symptoms are real, but I doubt them constantly. I guess it’s hard for a person to accept mental illness. It’s so intangible to me.

Holy ghosts and talk show hosts

I think I’m losing my mind in a way that I haven’t experienced before.
And it’s kind of freaking me out .. ?

My personality has been different lately. I don’t know if that’s translating to the internet, but I think it is in some ways. You tell me, I guess. From my own observations, I’ve become more serious and .. rant-y? I keep feeling like I have some great purpose, but I don’t know what it is.

That alone isn’t too bad, but it’s this next part that starts to concerns me.

I’m sort of starting to believe that there’s a code in the music of Joy Division, Nirvana, and the Manics that only I can figure out. I’ve become much more focused on music in general lately because I feel like it’s telling me something. I also think all the celebrity deaths mean something, but I don’t know what. I’m especially interested in Jett Travolta’s death. I also think that because I “know” all of this, someone is being sent to kill me before I figure it out. I think a lot of stuff is poisoned too, and I’m becoming suspicious of Jake.

Now, that is all crazy, but that’s not what most concerns me, still. It’s how it’s revealing itself to me that worries me. It’s not like my other delusions where I knew right off that my fears and thoughts were irrational. This is all seeming pretty real to me. So real that I actually didn’t realize the depth of all of this until I started to write this entry, and writing this all out doesn’t make it any less real to me. Right now, I’m downloading fucking Joy Division songs so I can go through the music / lyrics

Pictures like this don’t help me at all.

The Bridge

Suicide and mental illness basically walk hand in hand with each other. Mentally ill people are much more likely to commit suicide than people who don’t have an illness. In relation to myself, I’ve attempted suicide a few times, but I never really wanted to die. Regardless of my attempts though, and the intrusive thoughts I get every so often to kill myself, I don’t understand suicide. I don’t think anyone does.

I just finished watching the 2006 documentary entitled The Bridge. Filmed in 2004 at the Golden Gate Bridge, cameras caught 24 bridge suicide jumps on film. The documentary combines footage of some of the jumpers in between interviews with friends and family members of those who died. It offers a very harrowing glimpse in to the world of suicide.

Jumping off a bridge is one of the most violent ways to kill oneself. The common misconception of bridge jumping is that the jumper dies by drowning, but that’s usually not the case. The deck of the Golden Gate Bridge is 245 feet above the water. Falling from that height can send a body hurtling towards the water at over 100 miles per hour in just a few seconds. The impact of jumping off a tall bridge is basically the same as jumping off a tall building and hitting the pavement. Of course, some people survive but then drown or die of hypothermia–or they’re rescued. One man in the documentary jumped and lived to talk about it, and he mentions regretting his actions immediately after jumping.

The documentary is on youtube (part one is located here [see side bar on youtube for other parts]), if anyone is interested in watching it. I highly recommend it, but advise that viewers watch with caution. Aside from footage of the jumpers, there’s a lot of talk about mental illness that could be triggering to some people. Schizophrenia and bipolar disorder are mentioned. The schizophrenic woman really hit home with me, for obvious reasons.

Waking up

Ughh. I think I’m doing better now. I went in my room cos I felt too anxious in this room, due to all the lights and sounds, and I kept wanting to cut my hair off. I eventually laid down on my bed and sort of writhed around for a bit until I just passed out. I dreamt that my psychiatrist sent me to France, for whatever reason, and I was walking around trying to call Jake but never being able to get a strong enough signal. I woke up to my brother asking if I was okay, cos our mom called him to tell him that I hadn’t been doing well.

This medication isn’t really doing anything at the dose I’m at right now, but when it’s increased any, it gives me awful side effects. My mom wants to see if I can get in earlier than Thursday to see my psychiatrist.

Watch me go

I’m dealing with some kind of psychotic episode right now. It’s been going on for a few days now, but it wasn’t really severe until today. I feel very detached from everything, and I can’t seem to stop myself from spewing crap all over the internet in very jumbled form, like this:

I read a blog of Pete Wentz’s earlier, and while I like that he writes without a PR person, it was very bland compared to what Richey would have written. Lots of things are more mainstream these days, but they’re stupid and flat. There’s no meaning behind it. The Manics had loads more depth behind it all. I think it’s really sad that self-destructive is regarded with a sigh these days instead of being taken seriously. In America, psychiatry runs rampant with diagnoses and medication so everyone’s “sick” but nobody understands why. We have awareness but nothing deeper. If everyone is special than nobody is.

I don’t even know if that makes sense. My brain seems to be running in seven different directions at once right now. I’ve been making up formulas for life (born, school, marriage, kids) and seeing life as being a series of monotonous tasks that we all must do, which then negates individuality. I don’t think that makes sense to anyone but me. I’m not depressed or anything. I just feel too aware of everything … or something. All these formulas made me not real though, and I ended up burning my wrist with a cigarette a few times before calling my mom to try and put a foot back in reality through words. It helped me get rid of the urge to hurt myself more, but I still feel awfully disconnected. I couldn’t recognize my voice as coming from me.

I’ve been a different person lately. More serious. Things seem very flat to me and I’ve been clinging to things like music as a way to communicate to people. Everything has felt very urgent, like there’s something big going to happen soon, but I can’t seem to figure out the clues as to what it might be. It’s so confusing.

I also just wrote “DISTANT” on my inner left arm. I don’t know what that means; I just felt I had to do it.

This is probably all a bunch of crap, and once I snap out of this state I’m going to feel rather foolish.

la tristesse ne durera pas

My brother and I went out and got coffee and it made me feel better. Reading my earlier post seems like reading something someone else wrote. I’ve been very up and down lately in a lot of ways. My medication was decreased and it’s not doing a lot to help me at the moment, but the higher dose was too high and giving me lots of awful side effects. I’m hoping to switch meds this coming Friday when I meet with my psychiatrist.

I’m also hoping that I can get in to school again, because I really need the distraction. This past month I’ve been dealing with all my problems without much else going on and it’s starting to become very overwhelming. I’ve been afraid to go out much because I don’t know how stable I’ll be. I haven’t felt very secure lately and anything sudden (loud noises, flashes of light) can possibly trigger a hallucination / extreme sense of panic. I’ve had lots of anxiety lately, which is something I haven’t felt in a long time. I feel like I could handle classes though, since there’s a focus on learning in that environment and not so much a focus on me, if that makes sense.

The future will be good, I know it will.

Quiet Desperation

I haven’t been having a good day today. I started feeling bad last night and it’s just continued on, apparently. I’ve been in the house too much with too much focus on my problems and not enough distraction. I actually called Jake (boyfriend, ex, whatever) because I thought he might be around to go out for coffee or something, but he’s already got other plans. We might see each other during the week, but I’m not holding my breath. I’m just desperate for some kind of connection and sanity right now.

Sometimes I’m not sure how good of an idea it was to start this blog. It causes me to focus so much on my problems, and occasionally it gets to  be unbearable. Things have just been really hard lately and when it gets to this level I can’t seem to rely on anything to help distance me from my problems. Maybe once school starts I’ll feel better.