I just kind of died for you, you just kind of stared at me. There will always be that chance. We can do this one more time. Hellllllllllll yeeeeeeahhhhhhh I remember aurora.
Little music segue into my (mostly) positive post. My body clock is really starting to regulate. I woke up today at 8 sharp. The only time I woke up was at 4:15 to pee. The only clock I have is my phone. But I made sure that was all I was going to use it for that late/early.
My psychiatrist is very pleased with the direction I am going in, he told me that I am on the right track and there are always going to be stressful, depressive spells. But hey, that’s what you can expect from a bipolar/schizo affective with anxiety. Yeah I hear voices, but right now I’m not and my doctor is telling me it’s because I am getting proper sleep, so those voices and static I get in my head are way worse when you aren’t resting.
Anyway, my therapist and I have a plan set out and I really hope I can stick to it. I know it’s going to be hard, probably the hardest thing I will ever do. But I NEED inner peace/zen. I can’t tell you how much I need that. To truly forgive everyone and everything and NOT have so much piss and vinegar inside. Also to forgive myself. Absolve all the guilt and hurt and thoroughly cleanse my soul.
Well, if you’ve read this far, you’re fucking stellar.
Gonna go watch some TV.
I have been sick for a few days, at first I thought it was a head cold, today my ear and throat started hurting and the room wouldn’t stop spinning. And add that to my nighttime meds, makes for a loopy Dori.
I am so lonely. I feel as if nobody understands me, my situation, or even wants to. I find myself having to shroud myself from hurt, so I’ve just closed my doors to trust and love. I am a hopeless romantic…keyword HOPELESS.
I know that things take time and my medication is getting dicked around with all the time. Which is actually not as bad as it seems. I think I need to stop being so melancholy and go downstairs for a little bit to look at the Christmas tree and be with my mom and brother so I can vent.
Don’t worry, I won’t be doing anything stupid, I just got out of the hospital last Monday. My doctor put me in, saying he knew how miserable I was. And I was. It’s gotten a little bit better. I still have pain deep down inside, which I am working with my psychologist on. Both he and my psychiatrist are seeing me every week.
My mood is still all over the place, but I am calmer in general. Maybe one of the medications is giving me an overall anesthetizing feeling, also with it being a holiday coming up I miss my daddy so much more than normal.
I don’t even know why I am writing this, maybe for…I don’t know. Maybe I like the clickety-clack of the keys on my MacBook.
I can’t believe how hard it is to even grab a toehold of my life. I kept this a secret for over a week, but I attempted suicide again. I am very lonely. I don’t have many friends and I don’t have a best friend anymore. Which I am trying to get through ever since she told me that I was basically the reason and source of her feeling like shit. I don’t need that in my life.
But I can’t tell you that I lie awake at night, just wishing I had someone to talk to and so many take it for granted. I cry myself to sleep so often that my eyes are are swollen and puffy.
I am not sharing this to get pity. Fuck pity and the shitty horse it rode in on. What I do hope is that somebody, somewhere will look at this and know that they are not alone in how they are feeling.
My psychiatrist wants to see me weekly. He is so worried about me. I also see my psychologist once a week as well.
Thank you to those who actually care. It means more than you know.
When I think upon the past year, it went so fast and the older you get the faster it goes. Also with age (most of the time) comes clarity and wisdom. I learned a lot about that today. I had a great therapy session and for once I didn’t walk out with tears streaming down my face. Not that it’s a bad thing to bawl your eyes out in therapy, it’s actually quite cleansing. But I felt accomplished walking out having done actual work instead of ruminating.
We worked through a few things today, we are going to work through more next session. I admit I am still depressed, but I think my medications might need some adjusting. I go see the psychiatrist next week. Why do I share all of this? Because there is someone out there right now who has or is going through the same thing. And if I can help just ONE person, that is enough for me.
So this Thanksgiving I am thankful for family and amazing friends. A job where I can help people and feel good at the same time. And the one force that drives me in my life: Music. Music saves my life, it’s a comfort zone. It’s the one thing that makes me feel 100 percent totally safe. My therapist today asked me what is my safe place…some people go to the ocean in their mind or their childhood treehouse; I always go back to me in my room with headphones on, volume cranked.
What are you thankful for?
I don’t talk about this much because it embarrasses me…
But, I think my Loxapine is causing my tongue to hang outside my mouth, shake and most irritating and embarrassing swaying back and forth, back and forth like there is a constant stream of music playing in the background (wish it looked as cool as Stevie Wonder…alas it does not.)
I called my doctor’s office and left a message because I am not seeing him for three weeks and I can’t stand this anymore. Hopefully he gets back to me soon.
Nothing has been more embarrassing as doing this in public and being so aware that you’re hyper aware and trying so hard to stop it and can’t.
We’ll see what happens.
T.O’d about the Grace vinyl, I’m still smarting over it…yeah it’s still eating my gourd. I’m being a gigantic baby, I know I am. I can’t help it. I’m PMSING!! I have to take my mom to the doctor in the morning. So I’ll just make this short and sweet for now. My new doctor rocks the shit. He really fucking gets it, gets me. And really got in depth. As soon as we got within four minutes of UCSF, I went into hardcore panic attacks, but once it was over, I felt like I had battled some kind of inner demon. And all I could hear playing in my head was 'You know I did it, it's over and I feel fine. Nothing you can say is gonna change my mind, waited and I waited the longest night. Nothing like the taste of sweet decline…' And so on. So, I fucking finally have a reliable psychiatrist. Anyway, just thought you all might want to know this.