Feb. 24th, 2017

Surpised

Feb. 24th, 2017 04:57 am
quirkytizzy: (Default)
Sooo yeah, the whole "tapering off Prednisone" turned out to be nothing but a giant cocktease. In getting a hold of my nephrologist, he not only wants me to stay on the steroids, but to UP the dosage. So, faithfully, I'm back on 15 mgs (as opposed to 10) for three days now.

And a surprise to everyone but me, I've woken up at 2 AM for the last three days. Also a surprise to everyone but me, I feel the mania kicking in again. Not like it ever went AWAY. God, no. But I was at least getting SOME sleep in at the lower dose.

I'm getting so used to the mania that it's like a dull needle. I feel the pressure of it sliding in, but the sharp pinch that warns the body of impending, possible pain just isn't there. Somewhere along the line, the alarms, the warning bells wore out, because while I can see there's trouble on the horizon, I can't tell how bad it'll be. I'm fast losing interest in trying to treat it, because the only way out of this is to get off a medication everyone wants me on.

After all, the mania doesn't seem to be worrying anyone else, does it? Why the hell should I care?

If it weren't for the fact that without my sedatives I wouldn't sleep at all, I'd just stop taking my psych meds altogether. Why the fuck should I bother to spend time, energy, and money in getting those medications when (1) they aren't what's going to stop the mania and (2) no one else gives a flying fuck if I'm on the breaking point of sanity, so long as I follow the doctor's orders like a faithful patient.

Take your pills. Fall in line. March in time with everyone else. Be a good little girl and listen to Daddy Doctor. Better to be alive and in the psych ward than dead and sane, right?

No one around me - not even Jesse - is grasping the severity of this situation. I'm tired of trying to tell people, because all I get in return is a mouthful of "Well, the doctor said..."

So I'm just giving up on it. I'll take all my meds, medical and psychiatric. I'll keep up on my appointments. Let's pay lip service to the Almighty-Who-Gives-A-Fuck-If-You're-Crazy-So-Long-As-You-Aren't-In-The-Hospital Gods.

But as far as talking to people about what's on my mind, how the crazy is going, or how close I am or am not to doing self-destructive behaviors? As far as caring what I do to myself in the end, when this hits the breaking point, so long as it doesn't land me in the morgue?

Fuck all that noise. It's too much work and I ain't got anyone in my corner face-to-face willing to believe me when I say how bad it's getting.

So fuck it. They don't care? Okay, fine, then I won't either. Why bother getting worked up over something that isn't going to get looked at, treated, or even fair air-play?

After all, I've only been manic for 8 months. I haven't killed myself and have landed in the psych ward only once. And cut myself only twice.

That's enough to prove how sane I am, riiiight? That's how sane people live - psych wards and cutting. Obviously, so I better get with the program and stop worrying that what I'm experiencing is dangerous.

It's obviously not dangerous enough to worry anyone else. And even if I know how this is going to end (with my ass buried three feet and two weeks deep in the psych ward because I did something awful to myself), and I tell them (like I've been saying FOR MONTHS), they'll all still be surprised when it happens. They'll be surprised and I'll be too drugged up to even say "I told you so."

Because telling people isn't doing any damn bit of good right now anyways.

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