Down, again.

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?”
Me: “no”
D: “You haven’t talked to your sister?”
Me: “no.”
D: “Do you do any exercise?”
Me: ‘no.”
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.
Doc.

Grey or purple?

I’ve been pacing a lot in therapy lately. I’m not sure why. But my therapist said I seem to think better on my feet.

Anyway, I was pacing around the room recently when I noticed the box of Kleenex was empty. I grabbed the box and started breaking it down (for recycling) as I walked. My therapist – D- visibly jumped and then seemed to understand what I was doing – NOT attacking it.
D – “There’s more behind the couch.”
I reached behind the couch and pulled out the two remaining boxes. I looked at the grey box for a second and then the purple box for a second. Would I choose the grey one because 1) I felt grey that day, or 2) other people after me might be feeling grey, or 3) it was the first one I got out of the wrapper OR would I choose the purple because 1) it matched his orange and green walls better, or 2) I was wearing a red shirt, or 3) it asked me to pick it?
I chose purple.
D – “Hmmm, purple.”
What unconscious feelings did this choice reflect? What did I unwittingly reveal about myself? What did D think it meant?
I chose purple because I like the color purple and I like grape soda. After I had pulled up the perfectly positioned tissue (it took 3 tries) I set the box on the table and resumed pacing.
Doc.
P.S. I did 2 blog posts today. I did shit today!

West Virginia, part 2

Well, I did go to WV a few weeks ago. I had an episode of what I call “notice disease” on the drive up. I HAD to try and read every sign, billboard, license plate, township sign etc. the entire 5 hour journey. I just couldn’t stop myself. I was buzzing. It was exhausting.
I smoked cigarettes incessantly and was quite queasy by the time I arrived. I didn’t drink enough because I didn’t want to stop and pee. So… when I finally arrived in “West-by-God” Virginia, I was feeling nicotined = nicotine OD, dehydrated, and hyper. I could barely speak. “I have to pee”. Luckily my brother, sister-in-law, and 9 year old neighbor kid left me alone for a while to unpack and get my shit together.
Some of my goals in visiting were to go to the fair – which I did, go to the Charlie Daniels concert there – we did, and sleep in a haunted house that my brother is interested in buying and “fixing up” – I didn’t.
It was a typical country fair with lots of sheep and cattle, rabbits and chickens, flower and jelly and quilt making contests.
They (shockingly to some) did not sell alcohol – ie: beer. That was fine with the rest of us, but my brother dear is an alcoholic and the idea of going more than an hour without a beer was unacceptable. We all got freshly squeezed lemonade and he snuck off repeatedly to “grab a cold one”. Which left me, sister-in-law, and neighbor kid to sample the rides. Me and the kid bought $15 unlimited ride tickets and set about to ride them all. There were a couple I passed on, like the motorcycle ride and the race car ride, but I did enjoy the Scrambler, Roundup, and Ferris wheel. I think I was quite impressively restrained from acting like a 6 year old when he asked(begged) me not to rock the Ferris wheel when we were up high. I really wanted to rock it but even a little “terror” isn’t fun. Apparently.
When it got darker we went to the concert. It was OK. A rabbit got loose and ran across the field in front of the stage and everybody had a good laugh.
Re: the old house – I had imagined that it was an old farm house. You know – lots of old wooden floors, an ancient kitchen and fireplaces. No. It is a nasty, dirty, musty and disgusting wreck of a building. Old carpets, stained drywall, and low ceilings. I told my brother to fuck off, I would not be spending a night there. He took it well enough. Good thing. So… I didn’t get to find out if it was haunted or not.
Doc.