Monday, November 28, 2011

Been a Long Time

So between my new rotation at the ER and having 12 hour shifts and the new support group I'm a part of, I haven't really been posting much.  I'm finally feeling like I belong somewhere and it feels pretty great.  I can be myself and not hide anything in worry that someone will freak out or get scared by my thoughts.  It's pretty amazing.  I have honestly made some true friends in such a short period of time that I know genuinely care about me.  Part of me wants to say its too good to be true, but I'm trying to not be so cynical about it.  I've been learning what my triggers are - anxiety and situations that I feel trapped in.  I've always been in denial of being an anxious person because I didn't want to be one of those nervous kind of people.  I wanted to be the type that was always calm and cool under stress.  So when it would happen I would act like I wanted to be in the situation and progressively I think I was inducing a state of hypomania and eventually mania.  I guess I still have a lot to learn about myself, but sometimes I feel like there's nothing wrong with me and I'm just being a hypochondriac.  I have to remind myself of what the world looked like when I was off my meds, that usually does the trick.

I miss dreaming though.  I have always been one to have vivid dreams even if it was just a nap and now I don't remember any of my dreams.  That's probably the biggest part that makes me sad.  Even if they were nightmares they were always in such detail.  I miss my vivid dreams, even if they did border on being hallucinations.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

the Crash

Exotic fulfillment engulfed in wildfires
Smiles across the sun burnt skies
The greater the height we fly higher
Until the chill of reality settles in

And we begin to plummet down
Far into the earth's ground
Until silence is the only sound
That our ears become akin

And the darkness it holds us
Paranoia breaks our trust
Into death's abyss we're thrust
And all we want is out of this skin

Friday, November 18, 2011


Can't Sleep

sweet dreams, with eyes wide open
the darkness of skies and the world dead
thoughts continue to pry of what can happen
and full blown conversations in my head

who do you speak to?
I speak to myself.
who answers your questions?
I have yet to figure it out

Who do you speak to?
I speak to myself
who answers your questions?
demons no doubt

Collided words, explosive disasters
hurricane winds messing with my mind
plethora of plans of said risky behavior
voices they comment with words so unkind

Friday, November 11, 2011

Another Morning

I'm trying to pay more attention to my mood lately.  I still feel numb in that I can't cry if you paid me to.  I can laugh a bit more easily though.  It's confusing if nothing else.  Am I laughing or am I having spurts of hypomania? I can say with certainty that I am feeling depressed, I just don't have the physical effects of being depressed.  I can still laugh at things my kids do and I'm not so quick to be annoyed.  I guess it's safe to say I feel a bit melancholic.  I'm sad.  My baseline right now is sad.

I want to drink.  I want to run wild and crazy and scream and shout and laugh myself into hysteria!  But I've been told that's not normal and I already know it's not socially acceptable.  I miss being hyper, or rather manic.  It feels so great.  I remember wanting to go out and party and hang out with friends.  To be social and friendly, sometimes too friendly.  Apparently that is what happens with people with bipolar disorder.  They miss the manic episodes.  If I could bottle it up I'd make millions.  I think it's already called Ecstasy though.

I self medicated a lot in college. Always looking for that perfect high.  That high I felt when I was manic.  Thankfully, I never found it or I'd probably be an addict a well.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Tidbits of Memory

I can't recall when my first manic episode was because I've always the "hyper" type.  I do remember randomly wanting to go cruising with my best friend at the wheel while I hung out the car window yelling at unsuspecting people on the street.  I remember being to riled up on the inside. Like I was just waiting to burst into pieces if I didn't start yelling at people.  My friends thought nothing of it. I was always weird.  I remember having so much energy I would decide to gear up and just run around my block a few dozen times.  The neighborhood kids never thought twice.

I remember all too well my depressive episodes.  I remember being 16 and at home and wanting to hurt myself.  I took the blade out of my razor.  I cut my wrist.  I watched the blood pour out and just sat there waiting fir my blood to clot.  Once it did, I wrapped it up and carried on as usual.  The next time wasn't so neat.  A few weeks later I took the same razor and began slashing away at my left forearm.  Borderline Personality much?  I was tired.  My whole world felt as though it was crumbling into little pieces and I was trying so hard to keep it together.  I had no reason to be depressed, but I wanted it to end.

The next day, first thing in the morning, I showed two friends.  They didn't hesitate to take me to the counselor.  My counselor called my mom.  My mom took me to a therapist.  My therapist mentioned something about manic depression.  I remember crying a lot and then being dead silent towards him.  Therapy lasted a few months and that was all that was done.  I began self medicating with weed. If I was high, I was allowed to feel happy, or at least not sad.

I wasn't feeling so depressed anymore.  Matter of fact, I was feeling exuberant! At school especially.  I was back to bouncing off walls and going to bed late and waking up early.  Sleep shmeep!  Other times, I kept to myself.  That was the cycle at school and life.  When I was manic, others just saw me as being hyper; when I was depressed, I just kept to myself.  

Wednesday, November 9, 2011


It's day 8 of lamictal (mood stabilizer) and day 8 of being back on my effexor (antidepressant).  I'm watching my husband and kids play with cars and I should feel - something.  I watch them and I know I should feel this warmth inside of happiness and joy but I can only faintly smile.  Is it the medication or is it me?

Last week I wanted to die.  I wouldn't admit it then, but I'll admit it now that I don't feel that way.  I felt useless and hopeless.  I'd scream and cry in the shower so no one could hear me.  I cut myself where no one would see.  I cried like I hadn't cried in what feels like months.

For whatever odd reason, I wish I could cry like I did last week again.  It felt so real.  It's hard to explain.  It's not that I want to be in that place again.  It was miserable and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone, but it was me.  So am I feeling down because I'm still feeling it from last week, or is it the medications numbing me out?  When do the medications end and I begin?

Prisoner's view

New Manic Daze

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

First Time in T&R

"Day 2 of Week 2.  I missed yesterday because I pretty much had a massive panic attack in the am because I was so bloated that my brand new pants didn't fit.  Talk about depressing upon depression.  My excuse to them, I had a massive migraine.  Thankfully, the bloating is gone and I can be on my merry way.

At the prison, only one door is allowed to be opened at one time in any area with more than one door.  (I guess the latter of that sentence was a given, eh?)  Anyway, I can't see how you can ever get accustomed to waiting as someone buzzes you in through a door.  This is especially true when you're in an area with inmates just staring at you because well they have nothing else do to!  

It's my second week and I'm a little more at ease with the signing in and showing my badge to the guards upon entering.  To avoid any awkwardness I say good morning to everyone that I pass.  I know what you're think, "Oh em gee, she is voluntarily saying good morning to STRANGERS??" But to be frank, these people that work here are different.  They're not your everyday strangers!!

So I had a 3 hr break between my stranger comment and now.  I saw 3 inmates in the transfer and receiving area (T&R).  You know how some people just look crazy, or there's something significantly off about them.  Ladies and gentlemen, meet Rodnee.  (The name has been changed of course).  Well, Rodnee is a schizophrenic that sees sparkly silver shineys and hears voices talking to him inside his head.  They don't tell him what to do nor do they criticize.  Matter of fact they help him play cards! Go freaking figure.  Anyway, I mention Rodnee because there was something so "off" about him and I just couldn't pinpoint it out.  Then I realized, he was a child in a grown man's body.  He has been puppy pathetic eyes and looks at you like a terrified kid who's about to get his ass whooped on.  I kid you not, I was hypnotized.  Not in a fatal attraction hypnotized.  More of a I'm sorry life handed you these circumstances type of hypnotized.  If nothing else, I have a rekindled want to work in child psychiatry and get them before they end up like Rodnee.  By the way, because I know you're curious, he is serving time for throwing a rock at a window. It's considered shooting a deadly missile. Yeah I know.

Family Affair

I'm sorry, but I can't stand people who walk around they have bipolar disorder; or that they think they are schizophrenic.  Both those diseases run in my family and there is nothing fun about them.  They are scary when you see someone one day perfectly fine and the next day the entire family is holding a vigil because they have become catatonic.  It's funny because I remember clearly being at my grandmother's house in Puerto Rico and my uncle just sitting in the rocking chair that was on the front porch.  From the couch I could peek through the front door and see him just sit there, completely unaware of the people around him.
"He's in space," my mother reassured me.  Instead of making me calm about what was going on, it just made me more confused.  How could he be in space while sitting on the front porch.  My mom would call his name.  No response.  His older brother would call his name.  Nothing.  My grandmother would sit their crying asking him to please respond, but his mother's tears meant nothing to him.

I'm pretty sure that my uncle is either bipolar or schizophrenic.  I don't know the details but I do know once he snapped and threatened his kids' friends with a knife to get out of his house.  It was late and he had to work early, needless to say, a knife was a bit much; especially given his size at the time.  He was always a strong and in shape.

 He had, what I believe to be, paranoid delusions.  I asked my mom about his behavior and she told me that he swore up and down that when he was in the army he was being persecuted for being of darker complexion.  He attacked a commanding officer because supposedly he was talking trash about my grandmother.  The way my mom made it sound, not that she meant for it, was that he was very paranoid about those outside his family.

From all I gather, he sounds to be more schizophrenic, paranoid type, schizoaffective, which is schizophrenia with a mood disorder, or bipolar with paranoid delusions.  I wish I knew more about the details about him.  I was friends with him on facebook and he deleted me.  Never thought being deleted on facebook would hurt so much.  It just seemed so callous.  It was such a Borderline thing to do.

He deleted me after I got into a fight with my aunt.  It was none of his business and not even that big of a deal, but he deleted me.  I refuse to ask how he's doing now. It may be childish, but hey, it must run in the family.