I just got back from my appointment for my meds. She’s happy as my meds FINALLY have me evened out compared to where I was before she started changing dosages around. I was fluctuating extreme highs and extreme lows and my moods and energy were conflicting like black and white. I’m more at an even level and haven’t had any ups and downs that are far from what I would call “normal”. Which by the way is not what most would consider normal. I’m not running around talking so fast I can’t be understood and I’m not having as hard a time getting out of bed as I had been. So she feels that for now I’m good enough to come in every two months. Yay for me!
I normally don’t go to sleep until 2 or 3 am and then get up about 11 or noon. The computer and my online “friends” are my life. I have no friends outside of the internet except for the couple I live with and my mom. My Therapist is a friend as well. Going to her is like having coffee with someone you grew up with. I have issues with panic attacks when there’s more than two people around me at any given time. I overall can’t stand face to face contact. I’m scared to death that I’m going to pass out or have a heart attack. I can’t think of anything intelligent to say past the intitial “Hello”. I hate going in public because I can’t stand people looking at me. I have no self esteem and fight with myself just to go to appts. I am easily distracted by what I THINK others think about me or whisper behind my back. I always think people are against me, out to hurt me and yes at times to kill me but in my heart I know the killing part is my diagnosed “Mild schizophrenia” as the Psych put it. Now talk about a person who is terrified of what others think, imagine that ten times as bad when thinking about being pushed away and ridiculed, made fun of and out right turn people off. I had a fantastic relationship and when the poor guy couldn’t handle it anymore after 7 years he broke my heart. I still love him unconditionally and he knows it, but I also know he’s not capable of loving a Bi-polar Schizophrenic. I don’t blame him, I’d probably leave him if the roles were reversed if I didn’t understand…however I’d also get information to get a better handle on how to handle it. I find it really difficult living with myself. I can only imagine how hard it is for someone else. Not knowing from one minute to the next how I’m going to react/respond to stimulus that someone without the diseases would or wouldn’t. I don’t care what anyone else says. Life is not only difficult but it’s downright terrifying. Unless you have Bi-polar or Schizophrenia you have absolutely NO clue what it’s like so please don’t ever tell me you do know and pity me. I don’t want pity. I am learning to handle my life as best as I can and I’m functioning at what level I can without being considered legally incapable of taking myself. I am happy in knowing that it can be controlled to some extent and I wont stop living because of it. I just have to live differently than others. No I don’t think it’s not fair because I’m sick. Life isn’t fair even for those who don’t have what I have and what many others have. But I’m not proud or happy about it either. I’m ashamed and embarassed but I also want others to understand it from my perspective not from the point of view of being scared of me being contagious. I’m not I don’t care what you were told. You can’t contract it from talking to me, being near me or loving me. I have only known two people in my life who understood my conditions/diseases before I did and who no matter what learned to handle it with understanding, unconditional love and with such dedication I’ve been amazed at what people can be capable of. My dad suspected what I had and researched it and never told me (I accidentally found out before he died of cancer in 2004) and knew exactly when I had enough of something. How to calm me down when I had episodes in public and gave me a job because I couldn’t work for others who didn’t, couldn’t and wouldn’t understand. My mom begged me to get help and get on meds. For a long time I didn’t and went down hard. I hit the bottom of a hole that took me getting committed and put on meds without my consent to get me to realize I did need help after all. Today I still hate going to the pharmacy to pick up meds because I’m so ashamed at others knowing but I know I have to. If I were not on the meds I’d either be committed legally for the rest of my life or I’d be dead..yes suicide. I tried once but was stopped by the gun owner…had he been 1 second later my mother and father would have had to bury me. Do I regret him saving me? No. I’m relieved he did. This life I’m living I look at as a lesson. One I have to learn but I’m still unsure of what the lesson exactly is. I have suspicions but I hate to openly speculate.
Life is good, being on meds makes it tolerable. It doesn’t make it easier for me.