not-quite.org

I’m actually smiling. When I’m around people, I’m still tense and not wanting too interact much but with Alan and by myself (and the few other people who really get me) I’m singing, smiling, dancing, and twirling. I’m getting there slowly. And I’ll gladly take slow. As long as I am getting there.

I’m seeing things. Hearing things. Conversing with my hallucinations when things get real bad. I have anxiety all day, every day. The only way to escape it is to sleep but I have severe anxiety about falling asleep. I’m sleeping seriously between 14-20 hours a day (closer to the higher end usually).

Doesn’t help that Potato did a serious fuck up again. That’s just more added stress on me. Trying to figure out the lesser of two evils is never something I’m very good at but let’s just say a dream has been dashed, trust has fallen, and if he does it one more time, I’m going to beat him the fuck up and make his life fall apart. Which he knows.

The good news? I’m being considered for a job I really want which will add some much needed stability to my life, and will give me some distance from my daily stressors. I also start class tomorrow so hopefully that with help as well even though the anxiety from that is overpowering.

edit I should probably also mention that I’m looking into getting a psychiatric service dog or training my own depending on what my research says.

Tonight, I want to slit my throat. Why? Because I’m so anxious about falling asleep. I don’t feel like myself, I don’t know what’s going on, I just don’t want to deal with it alll anymore.

I also had stopped showering. I managed to get myself in the tub to hose myself off at the very least this afternoon but that was a battle and the water drops felt like acid on my skin.

My heart is being squeezed within millimeters of it’s life, my chest cavity is full of cotton ball covered cement blocks, My stomach is queasy, I have gas out the ass and uterine cramps that are unexplained. Fun,

So I have not been admitted, which is good news. I’m still taking my meds, eating, and not playing in traffic so unless that happens, admission is my own choice. I’m going to give the new plan time to work and hopefully it will kick in so I don’t have to consider it again.

You can only handle so much stress per day. If your quota is taken up just living at home, you can’t handle anything else, thus an effective shut down.

I’d imagine if home were a place you could truly relax, you’d be able to cope with the outside world more effectively.

Going to see my psychiatrist tomorrow morning to be assessed for possible inpatient treatment. Grave disability is the term he was using.

There’s no time for me to fill out my psychiatric advanced directive and get it notarized (need my two agents to be there to sign it and they’re both at work).

I need to tell my parents but talking just puts too much pressure on me.

Goddamn, I am fucked up.

Tonight, I fell apart. I cried to Potato about my overwhelming anxiety, the daily hourly fight I have just to not cry all day. I mentioned how much it hurts and how I don’t know if I have any fight left in me.

So… I will be starting to get things in order, just in case I go to get more intensive help. Something obviously needs to be done and I’m at a loss. Maybe this will help me out.

I want to be invisible. Or rather, I want to not exist but that will be harder to pull off. I’m planning on spending the next few days by myself, offline, away from anyplace where anyone might possibly have even heard of me. The only problem is, I’m expecting to hear back about a job interview so I have to be reachable by phone which kind of foils the whole plan. But, it’s the greater good, apparently, so I gotta buck up and deal with it.

I also have to make it through today which just the thought of is sending me into a panicked state. I’m telling myself to grow up and deal with it but so far that’s not working. Surprisingly. *rolls eyes*

It’s approaching time to start getting ready for my therapy appointment so I should go do that. I’ll probably cry today because I totally have my shit together today. *snorts* Yeah.

Things are not going so well in the ol’ J-land when my credit cards and anything sharp has been taken away. Oh, and when I’m talking about potentially voluntarily committing myself. Ya know, to a mental facility.
Potato and I spent a good while discussing this and basically it comes down to we both don’t like the fact that I am on seven psychiatric medications and that I’m not taken off one when it’s not working. It’s to the point where we’re not sure if the meds are doing more good than harm. I mean, who knows if my hallucinations and other symptoms are because of an actual biological problem or if they are a side effect of a medication or a drug interaction between two or more.

After the cruise, I will start getting things in order to admit myself if it becomes necessary. That means getting a psychiatric advanced directive in place (in addition to a normal advanced directive), talking things over with my therapists and psychiatrist, etc. I will see what they say, I might try attempting to quit all of my meds on my own, but under medical supervision of course. I’m thinking that will be too messy, not pretty, and not something I want my friends and family to have to deal with. Hence the hospitalization option, where I would also be given therapeutic doses of medication to (hopefully) get me back to a functional state relatively quickly. It’s not something I’m looking forward to.

I just know that I am not ok, I want to be ok, I don’t want to hurt anyone, I don’t want to hurt myself, I want these symptoms gone. I’m miserable and scared. I don’t want to be living like this. But really, I just don’t want to hurt anyone.

I have a problem. I have a soft spot of fuzzy critters.

I adopted two baby rats over the weekend. Two of 65 babies that they had within a week. Poor things. (Don’t let your rats breed, you stupid fucks.) I had been thinking about getting more because the dog love of my life is quickly deteriorating and I felt that I needed to have something happy, healthy and new to pick my spirits up.

Mikey… is old. He was totally fine about a month ago. Old age had caught up to him so he was slow but he was happy, still ran around, chased squirrels, bounced around whenever I went to spend time with him. Now I’m lucky if he’ll even look at me when I walk in the door. He’s incontinent as of two weeks ago. Lethargic. Not eating. Occasionally needs to be assisted outside (supporting his hind end while he slowly walks) to go potty and then back in. His liver levels are all out of whack. Something’s eating his red blood cells. The vets are confused. No answers, just symptoms.

I started coming to terms with putting him to sleep since he was showing no signs of happiness – or even awareness of his surroundings. Then the bastard pulled a 180 and was back to his old self for a few days. He’s been fluctuating between the two for the past week or so and it’s terribly draining. I want to do what’s best for him but if he’s still having good days, I’m not sure I can say okay. I just want him to be young again. Young, and healthy, and always happy. And still with me.

Halfway into the Mikey situation, it became clear that the old rats are, in fact, old. So I’m not only looking at losing my dog who I’ve had for my entire adult life, the rough teenage years and who got me through the emotional hells of high school and abuses, but two rats as well. All this looming critter death is depressing. I needed something to liven things up. Something to partially offset the upcoming losses. Is that really so wrong?