The Music of my Mind

Somewhere along the way, I have gotten lost. I feel so small, so confused, so unsure of anything except my own failures. I know I deserve every bit of what I am receiving yet their words cut at me, their tone bruises me and their eyes burn me. I never meant to hurt anyone. If I could take it back, I would. If I could do something to fix it, I would. If I could promise to never again screw up - and not be lying - I WOULD! But I can't.

Three Days Grace has captured my mindset. They say the words I cannot...



"I will
"Let you down I will
"When you finally trust me, finally believe in me
"I will
"Let you down I will"

I don't know what is happening to me. A dark despair, like drowning in an icy, bottomless pool, grips my mood despite my efforts to break free and swim. I'm so frightened all of the time. I'm having trouble controlling my thoughts. Memories throw themselves against the backs of my eyes and I don't know if they are real or waking nightmares. Thoughts I am not allowed to think echo through my head like broken records. I try to replace them with the prescribed thoughts that I should be thinking but they ring hollow, canned laughter behind a not-funny sit-com. The parts of me to keep me afloat are either falling silent, like my wounded Ginny, or screaming unconvincingly like my fact-throwing Doc. I don't even recognize my own voice, my own face in the mirror is someone else, my life is a bad, made for tv movie with grown up child actors clinging to faling careers. I hate this Animal I Have Become.



"HELP ME BELIEVE IT'S NOT THE REAL ME!! SOMEBODY HELP ME TAME THIS ANIMAL I HAVE BECOME!!"

So much of me is saturated with fear. I can't even identify the source of most of it. I'm just scared. I want to hide. I'm functioning but even that is out of fear. I don't know what my problem is but there has to be a way to stop this fear that is controlling so much of me. The Xanax really does help take the edge off. But I am afraid to take it. I don't want anyone to think I'm an addict or anything and I'm getting such mixed messages about taking it or any other medication. I take one when I get up just so that I can face the day but it wears off. And then I'm just scared, so scared I can't think straight. WHY?! Why is this happening?!



Maybe tomorrow there will be hope. Maybe tomorrow there will be light. Maybe tomorrow will bring peace and the ability to live inside my own skin. I cannot be alone in the world. Others must feel like I do SOMETIMES. "Even heroes have the right to bleed" and all that, right? Maybe tomorrow I will be able to see the world beyond the darkness. Maybe tomorrow I will feel better equipped to hold on and keep going.



"Everybody bleeds the same

"Somebody holds the other line

And somebody does hold the other line. I have so much support. So many people were hurt by my actions because they care about me. I know they love me. I know I should be able to turn to them for help and support. They want me to. I am loved...



"Don't give up. It's just the weight of the world..."

It's easy to say that but so much harder to do anything about it. I don't know how to be the me I need to be. Everyone wants me to be someone different. They want me to be happy and healthy in the way that they perceive as "best" and I do try. Some want me to smile all the time. Others want me to find God and Christ in my life. A couple just want me to be "me" - whoever that is. How do I please them all? How do I be all I need to be when all I can do is Keep Breathing?



"For those who know me, no explanation is necessary; for those who don't no explanation is possible." (Patrick Dempsey)

Where the Hell Have You Been?!

Long time, no write. Actually, long time, no post because I've been journaling a lot. Honestly, there isn't much else to do when locked up on the psych ward or sitting in a hospital bed. I'm not going to try to go back and type up all my journal entries from my stay. But I will summarize what I learned, after I give the skeleton of what happened...

When last I checked in, my world was falling down around me. I was really in a bad place in my head. Well, as you may have guessed, things got worse. Friday I tried calling the doctor for help but he never called me back. Saturday I climbed into bed and declared I was going to stay there until the house fell down or until my doctor's appointment Monday morning. That's the last I remember. Apparently I didn't stay there. Sunday everyone went out to dinner and I stayed home, having made my declaration the prior day. But I didn't stay in bed while they were gone. Honestly (and I even I were the lying kind of person, why would I lie in my own blog) I don't remember doing it, but I overdosed on something. Craig can't remember what the hospital said was in my stomach and the only thing I can think of he didn't think sounded familiar. But, (and I haven't really elaborated on this with anyone else) I am speculating that I woke up and couldn't get to sleep and wanted to take something to make me sleep until Monday morning. I probably took a bunch of Xanax. If they called it by the generic name, Craig wouldn't have recognized it. And benzo overdoses cause what happened to happen, including the "amnesia" of the event.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. When they got back from dinner, I was on the couch, unconscious. They sent the kids next door and Neighbor-Friend came over. My pulse was at 26 beats per minutes and I wasn't breathing well. Fast forward... I ended up in the ICU on a respirator. I woke up TUESDAY morning, dazed, confused and having hurt and scared a LOT of people. And I didn't remember what happened, which sounds like a convenient way of saying I did something I'm not proud of. I wish that were the case. It would be easier, I think, than not knowing and wondering...

In the hospitals (Sunday through Wednesday in the ICU, Wednesday-Thursday on medical floor having my heart monitored, Thursday through today at a different hospital on the psych ward) a whole lot of nothing added up to a whole lot of something. I dug down inside me to try to figure out what the hell is going on. Even if I had just wanted to sleep, I had to have known that taking a shitload of Xanax was going to land my ass in the hospital, if I was lucky. WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!

I remember how I felt before everything fell apart. I felt like I couldn't possibly do everything that I wanted to do. Even though I wasn't sleeping, I still couldn't get everything done. Even not tired, I couldn't get my shit together. I felt trapped, pressured, and inadequate. I was hot off the tale (misspelling intended) of my crushing NaNo defeat and starting to wear thin. ("Like butter spread over too much bread..." LOTR, Book 1)

The thing is, I would very much like to say it was just a medication imbalance that caused it all. At the same time, I feel the need to condemn myself entirely for it, casting blame for every foul thought and saying it is all about my behavior and my thoughts that caused everything. Looking at it rationally, I must admit it was some of each. Not sleeping at all can't have been right. And I think it led to a great many of the problems I have had recently. But the problems manifested in ways that were influenced by my thoughts and where in my head, and in my heart, that I really am. And that's not such a good place.

In all honesty, I don't think this was a suicide attempt. I think I wanted to sleep until I get to the doctor and was willing to risk going overboard in order to achieve that. It was stupid and I regret it, but I can't take it back. On the other hand, I must have known that death was a possibility so maybe there was an edge to it that was more sinister than sleep.

I did pull apart many things while I was "recovering" though. I decided that my intense desire to escape was born from fear. The fact is, for me at least, there are things far worse (and scarier) than death. And when the world is falling down around me, life itself is the much more daunting option. I was afraid, mostly of failing and letting people down and ruining innocent lives. Unpredictability seems to be one of my biggest triggers. When I need to do A, B and C only have D, E and F thrown in on top, I get stressed out. These are things I haven't prepared for and I haven't planned for and, even when they are small things, it throws me off. Being caught unprepared is one of my biggest fears in most arenas.

*--------+--------+----------+---------+------------+-----------*

ugh. i had so much to say with this but i have now been writing it for 2 and a half days. so i quit for now. maybe i will revisit it. i have learned a lot in the short time i have been home, some of which contradicts what i was going to say so i am having trouble mustering the enthusiasm i once had towards writing this post. perhaps i will just move on. for now, this is all. in summary:

i was messed up
i ODed and nearly died
i was in hospital for almost 2 weeks
i'm home now
i am struggling to find insights into what happened and why
said insights seem to be shifting like a sand dune in high wind

Useful Information (with "Unwell" by Matchbox 20)

Did not see shrink yesterday due to snow delay for the school.

Did not see med-shrink today because he is sick.

Something is very wrong....

Here's a list I've made of Useful Information. I put the items on the list because they are a reality that doesn't match my current reality.

Useful Information:

If it isn't alive it shouldn't hold a two-way conversation with me. This includes ceiling fans, medications, televisions, mp3 players, vans. But the computer is debatable. Sometimes it is real; sometimes it is not. All two-way communications from the computer are suspect and should be taken with a grain of salt.

I have 4 children. None of them have a birthday coming up in less than one month. Do not speak to, look at, or in any way acknowledge the existence of the child who does not exist. She is not real and has never been real. Do not mention or refer to any event involving her or her part in any event involving anyone else determined to be "real". THIS IS IMPORTANT!

If it is covered in fur, it should not be talking to me. This includes cats, dogs, and pets of all kinds. They do not talk. Do not talk back to them.

Dreams are not real. Things that happen in a dream did not happen in real life. Even real events are distorted by dreams so believe nothing from a dream is real or ever happened.

I must be asleep to be dreaming. Accusing people of being just a dream is bad. Especially if I'm not asleep. If something isn't real, ignore it or treat it the same way everyone else is treating it. Verify with list if in doubt of the reality of a person or situation.

Kid-4 is fine. He is not sick. He is not dead. He has not been kidnapped. He is only crying if other people act like he is crying. He is not a baby - he is 6 years old. No one is trying to steal him from me. Social Services is not coming to take him away because he lost the neck strap to his glasses.

The mirror only says what I am actually saying out loud at the same time I see it talking. Things that can only be seen in the mirror and not when I turn around are not real, including people and shadows. The mirror itself is not alive and therefore it is not talking to me.

Marriage means consent without question. It is a promise and I never break a promise. "For better or for worse, til death do us part." Arguing about this is hurtful and wrong and unfair. Never argue about this or question it.

My MP3 player is not reading my mind to choose songs. It is on shuffle repeat which means it picks songs, probably using some variant of the Random function used in VB programming. It is not choosing songs that "fit" or to "pick on me" or to "answer questions asked in prayer" or anything else that is personal in any way. It is a crap shoot what song is played.

I went away to college briefly. I made good friends and had a good time. I did not have a roommate after the first week. There were two girls across the hall and one down the hall that I was very close with. The boyfriend of the girl down the hall was often in my room playing games on my computer. Craig hated this guy. I called home abruptly one day, in tears, and begged to come home because I was homesick. I came home the next weekend. I never returned to college.

Snow is cold. Going barefoot outside or wearing sandals should make my feet hurt. I should want a coat on. I should make sure everyone else is wearing a coat and shoes as well. They should want to do this. Snow is also not alive. Therefore it is not talking to me or being mean to me.

Baby does not hold meaningful conversations. She is a baby and while babies are alive and not covered in fur or pets, babies don't talk in words yet. So she is not talking to me. She may be crying or making sounds, but she is not talking. (And I *am* right that Baby is not MY baby - she is Baby-Mommy's baby.)

Sleep is normal and a good thing. I should not only want it but need it. Ditto for both food and drink. Get some. Use them. If I'm not, don't volunteer that information to other people. They will get upset, probably angry.

When in doubt, do what everyone else is doing. If no one is around, believe nothing, say nothing, stay calm. If people are all doing different things, say nothing and look like I know what I am doing. Whenever possible, avoid speaking out loud. This way realities don't get crossed. Then people will not get upset or uncomfortable.



*Note to self: this was not made about me. I think. Pretty sure.....

Snow Daze

Last night I didn't sleep.

I took a wide variety of pills to induce sleep but she eluded me completely. Around 3 AM I went upstairs to see if lying in the dark would help. I was not in the least bit sleepy. In fact, I was rather jittery. And I can't blame it on Starbucks night because I went de-caf. (BTW - whoever said you can't taste the difference doesn't have my set of tastebuds. Nasty!!) So I lay there in the dark and I tried all the things I could think of to put me to sleep. I rocked. I counted. I visualized. I relaxed. I thought "sleepy thoughts". I didn't listen to any music because all I have portable right now is AWAKE music. I had the ceiling fan tell me a story. I finally gave up and just lay there, listening to night noises. Craig's breathing, steady and loud, often erratic as he tosses and turns. A branch tapping against the roof outside. The kids turning in their sleep. The cat moving about the house. After about 5 minutes of listening, I got bored. So I asked the ceiling fan to tell me another story. It obliged by launching into a great detailed adventure about a little girl trying to find her way home from lost in the woods. But once it started talking, it wouldn't shut up. I kept telling it to keep its voice down - I was horribly afraid it would wake Craig up - but on it went. I tried ignoring it, hoping it would lose interest without an audience. It kept on. So I got up and left the room but when I returned, it started up again - after a scolding about not lying down. I began to ignore it again and started counting the number of times my implant fired. The fan kept going. When I had been in bed a little over 2 hours and realized there was less than 45 minutes until the alarm was due to go off, I gave up and got up. This angered the ceiling fan which then began to yell at me and recite a long ist of things I consistently do wrong. I left the room and took a shower. At least the shower wasn't shouting criticisms. Or maybe they just didn't seem as loud because the running water dampened the sound. I don't know. When I went back to my room, the ceiling fan resumed giving me a piece of its mind. This got very old very fast so I went downstairs.

It was now almost 6 in the morning and I had not slept at all, not even dozed. And I was wired. Jittery and buzzy and shakey hands and head going 50 ways at once. And I was afraid to take the Xanax for fear of the sleepies catching up with me. They assured me they would not put me to sleep but I do not believe them. So I took my morning meds and thought maybe I would do some more writing but there is a ceiling fan in the living room and every time I entered the room, it started listing the other things I should be doing. So I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher.

It was at this point that I realized I was in a full blown manic episode. Earlier that evening - I guess that would make it last night? - I cleaned out the shoe cubbies, sorted and organized it. Then I cleaned out the coat closet, sorted the too small coats and snow gear and got it ready for a coat drive happening this weekend. Then I swept out the closet and while I was at it, I swept up the hallway. At this point, Craig got home and I tried to tell him how I want a light in that hallway and how it could be done and he kept saying "Slow down - what are you talking about?" Eventually I went off to my folks' house to drop off the coats and Mom asked me three times if I was okay. I blew her off. I was GREAT! Off I went to Starbucks where I wrote for 3 solid hours (and drank de-caf coffee). When I got home, I started talking to my writing buddy. Together we polished a story for me to send to an e-zine editor friend of mine. Then the whole not sleeping stuff happened. And looking back I realize that I didn't eat anything at all yesterday (or today) and really had no desire to do so. I had one can of Mountain Dew and one cup of de-caf coffee and that was it on that front too. It occurred to me that I should NOT tell Craig this as it would upset him greatly. I was contemplating using my free time today to go get the tattoo I've been talking about forever. And I said myself, "Self," I said. "This is not good. Look what you are doing! You are writing a textbook on manic behavior!" To which Self replied, "Really? Can I take the class too?" and Self wanted to slap Self around for a while.

Somewhere around this time, I thought many things at once.

I thought of the school delay and how I was not going to get to my therapy appointment and how incredibly disappointed I was. That led me thinking about why I was so anxious to go and after about 5 minutes of speed thinking I came to the conclusion that I have placed my shrink on a pedestal and labeled him as an "Ideal Male Person" and I wondered if I was being unfaithful in my marriage by thinking of him thusly and I wondered if my treatment would suffer or benefit from my desire to make him happy and accomplish what he wants me to accomplish.

I also thought about the school delay and how it would affect the rest of my day. I was thinking about who needed to be where and when and what time I needed to get them up and all that stuff.

And I was thinking about why the fans have gotten so rude lately. It just doesn't seem right for them to kick me when I'm down... or NOT down. And my meds whispering to me when I don't dare take the "stop being buzzy" ones. And the stupid cat arguing with the dog. GOD! Get a life you two! And just how loud everything seems to be these days and how I would get ear plugs but i don't think it would help a whole lot.

I was thinking other things too but I have to go now so I'll maybe edit this later and add them and a cool quote that I have to think up first.

Livin La Vi Da Loca

This roller coaster is going to be the death of me - or someone else. I drag through the late morning and early afternoon, am fine for about three hours, then I'm wired until the next early afternoon. The lows are so low I wanna die. I am so tired that I literally can't breathe and get dizzy. Then it gets to where I can't stand up and my muscles go all gooey. From there I lay down or faint.

You think I'm exaggerating? Maybe I am... I think fainting means that gray goes all the way to black and the swift descent to the floor goes unnoticed until someone slaps your face. If that's the case, then yes. I exaggerated. It didn't go completely black, only to that deep gray that is like wet slate. And I while I didn't *see* the ground coming at me, there is a peculiar rushing somewhere between the back of my eyes and the inside of my ears that is unique to dropping to the ground. But I certainly didn't lay there like a dehydrated Southern Belle. I hit my head on a chair as I went down and then again on the floor once I was down. And I felt them both so I wasn't out like a light. Once I was down, the gray oozed back to (too) bright. I sat up, wished I hadn't, and sat there on the floor for about 5 minutes. Then I got up, called Mom to say I wasn't coming to get Baby and sat down for a few more minutes until my legs weren't so jelly and then went upstairs, slowly. I crawled into bed and passed out for 2 solid hours. I was SOOO tired - I didn't even wake up the whole time. About 2 o'clock I woke up and just kind of sat there for almost 15 minutes. I stumbled around until it was time to get my kids from school and was fine by then. I ran even-stevens until about 5 o'clock. Then I spazzed. Like usual these days.

The highs are to the point where I talk really fast and can't keep a line of conversation going without splitting off into 3 directions at once. (Okay, that's not too far off from me... *evil grin*) I bounce or tap or rock or fidget - or all of them at once. I feel invincible emotionally and pain-free physically. My hands shake. Apparently, I annoy the hell out of people, too. And I lose my ability to multi-task. That is a crusher there... I can tolerate most of it. But the last 2 are deal-breakers. Got Craig so mad at me.... it was ugly. And I can't stand not being able to do more than one thing at a time - how do linear thinkers survive?!?!?!

Going to talk to the med-shrink. This can't be right...

"I'm in over my head, over my head..." ("Cable Car (Over My Head)", I can't remember who sings it. will look later)