Jun. 13th, 2017

quirkytizzy: (Default)
I only vaguely remember writing yesterday's entry. As in, I remember a key few phrases I was THINKING about, but had no idea that I'd actually penned. I'd chalk it up to Valium, but there was no Valium to be had yesterday. Ghost writing LJ entries, now two-for-two, is a little disturbing.

Especially the part where you, Rayhawk, had asked if I'd ever wondered who I'd be without writing. My immediate response was "No! No, I've NEVER wondered that. Not even once. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Never." Which, as the last entry written, means it is an idea worth deep consideration.

Maybe that book that everyone says I should write could finally come about, if I'm not exerting all of my writing into just trying to keep my head above water.

And Gonzo, I've decided you're right about the medication. Hearing about how it saved you from the chaos, I realize that I'm in exact same boat. Cutting that anchor would only wind up with my ship being capsized. This distance, like you said, is probably going to be what winds up saving my life.

And Ben, you're iteration of what Gonzo said also drives the point home. So on Wellbutrin I will stay - and I won't fuck with the dosage. You guys are right. Let's see where I can go in a place of stillness instead of utter, constant mental chaos.

Matrix, you're also right in how broken is different than being in a place where you actually learn how to deal with what Life has handed you. Broken means you're unable to pick up the pieces. Broken means ignoring the pieces scattered in the depths of your soul. Thinking otherwise gives a person a chance to sew it all back together again.

And that's what I want. To be back together again. I've spent a year flailing about on the floor of my soul, bleeding and howling. I want to sing. I want to raise above the dust and sharp edges. If I can keep my brain away from the word "broken" and closer to the word "together again", then it will work.

Slowly, I'm sure. Maddeningly slower than I want it to be. But better late than never. Better than the last year. Better than the last forever, it seems.

This can be done.
quirkytizzy: (Default)
So that memory gap between writing entries turns out to have led to something far more sinister. As in, I woke up this morning at 4 AM, went to get a pack smokes, went BACK to bed - and woke up at 6 AM with cuts on my wrists.

Cuts that I do not remember making. AT ALL. Again, there had been the nebulous thought of "Hm. Cutting. Interesting." I smoked a couple of cigarettes, went to bed, woke up, and wrote this morning's LJ entry (of which I was perfectly cognizant for). I then looked down and saw red. Red that had already been seeping open for over an hour.

Shallow cuts, mind you. Very superficial, but I have no recollection of finding a sharp object, making the cuts, and then ignoring it to crawl back into the blankets.

Weirdly enough? Writing out Livejournal entries under a blackout freaks me out WAY worse than cutting during blackouts. Backwards thinking - or else the cutting freaks me out on a level that I don't want to dwell on.

Is something wrong with my meds, which are otherwise working perfectly and I don't want to fuck with at all? Early dementia? Lupus eating at my brain?

So I did what I know to do - called a friend and absconded to the ER. Their psych ward was full, as was the other place they normally send people to. A bed may open in the second ward later, which may be utilized.

My initial labs, blood and urine work, came back just fine. Normally if I go off the edge, it's because of some kind of looming infection. Not so this time. On the other hand, blood and labs don't always show brain troubles.

The thing is, I feel fine. I don't feel at all sad, despairing, hopeless, or sorrowful. I didn't feel that waking up either. I'd slept all day yesterday, waking up to go pee a few times, and woke up this morning thinking only one thing - "Damn. We're out of cigarettes. I'd better go get some."

They did dress up my wounds, though, which felt very nice. They are now wet thanks to me doing dishes. I should probably change them out.

This is wierd and pointing to a much larger problem that I don't at all want to think about.

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