Since coming off all of my meds a few months ago, I have known that I am still depressed. Not as bad as I’ve been but not happy, not motivated, not sure why I keep thinking anything will ever change. I just need(ed) to see for myself if I really needed meds. The only thing I believe they helped with was sleeping. So, for now, I am trying to at least sleep through the night (hasn’t happened yet) with my dwindling supply of Ambien, antihistamines and pot. I tried 300mg of Seroquel the other night and it was awful. Still awake, but staggering around like a drunken moose outside in the darkened street at 2:30am trying to make my muscles stop cramping and forcing me to keep moving. Finally I smoked enough pot to stay still and eventually fall asleep. A typical night is me taking an anti-histamine and 2 or 3 bong hits around 10pm. I usually fall asleep between 12mn and 2am, awakened between 3 and 5am -WHY?- go outside for a cig., back upstairs for 2 bong hits and if i’m lucky that night, back to bed and sleeping until 6 or 7am. I don’t nap during the day so why aren’t I sleeping?
Therapy has sucked lately. I know it’s me so I am starting to wonder if I should continue. I’ve been with my current therapist for over a year. I think he is getting tired of me and has run out of things to say. Last week he blurted out during one of our periods of mutual silence “they’re doing Cinderella on Broadway.” WTF? I didn’t know what to say. In my head i’m thinking “What does he expect me to say? How does the story of Cinderella go? How does this relate to me?” I don’t know what my face was doing. Finally, I croaked out “Are you going?” To which he faffed about explaining that he didn’t think his 2 girls were old enough to appreciate it. OK, again – WTF?
Last week I also told him about my experiment designed to not feel feelings. I currently put out dry food for a feral cat who recently had kittens. Unfortunately, several other cats often raid the food and run her off. So, one night I was sitting on my carport steps smoking when one of the other cats walked out of the shadows to the empty bowl in front of me. I decided not to feed him even though he was clearly hungry. I wanted to see it I could “sit” with his pleading eyes on me and not feel his hurt and confusion. He deliberately walked slowly in front of me (to be sure I saw him) but I didn’t cave and he eventually gave up and left. But I didn’t feel bad for him. Nope – no guilt. Success. I told my therapist -D- this and he said “You know, the same could apply to people.”
I said – “that was the point. People have told me that suicide leaves behind pain and questions. I was just practicing.” I think he nodded and let the subject drop.
Yesterday in therapy D’s questions felt more like accusations.
D: “Have you talked with your mother?”
D: “You haven’t talked to your sister?”
D: “Do you do any exercise?”
D: “Any self-harm this week?”
Me: “no, I’ve been afraid to pick up a scalpel lately. I’ve been getting these images in my head of me cutting off my fingers.”
D: “Has Wolf been around?”
Me: “he’s behind this. Once before he told me to cut off my breasts(in pictures). I didn’t want to, but he wears me down and I said I’d try. As I made the first incision, I realized I didn’t have the right equipment and I didn’t know how to do it on a human. We negotiated something else.”
I’ve heard of thought insertion but what do you call picture insertion – telepathy?
I think we can compromise. I’m going to take an overdose with one of each of my discontinued psych. meds. (Maybe not the Seroquel, though). The alternative of ignoring him places my family at risk of his retaliation.
So, anyway, when I got home yesterday I felt like crap, awful, with deep, painful feelings of despair that lasted for hours. I finally gave in and got high… I felt better in about 10 mins. Guess i’m not as drug free as I thought but I get better results than any psych. med. i’ve ever tried.
My mom was recently in the hospital with a bowel obstruction where they also found a mass in her lung. Diagnosis pending. So, of course this is on my mind. Interestingly, I have discovered that I am now the last one in the family to hear bad news. As the eldest and after a lifetime in medicine, I was usually consulted about medical issues. Now, I guess they think i’m too fragile to handle the truth. Fine. It’s not about me.
D’s parting words were: “do something nice for yourself.”
So, I made strawberry jello with whipped cream on top.
Enough of this. I’ve got things to gather.