Two days ago, it was really bad. I didn't sleep much and probably got around four hours in the end. I had stayed up with a friend and we painted and wrote. It was relaxing, but I'm homesick.
I feel really guilty when my friends want me to hang out with them when I'm feeling terrible. I hermit myself away in my room. I don't put any effort to talk to them. I'm a bad friend when I'm like this, but a damn dedicated one when I'm in an okay mood. It's always an 'okay' mood because I am never happy long enough for it to be called a happy mood.
Sometimes I'm blindsided by my depression. It takes me by surprise and doesn't let me go. I cry more than I smile when I'm like this. The world seems like a rotten oyster to me. I don't understand why I'm sad. The sadness and depression trap themselves in my mind and take my happiness as a hostage.
It rained. My mood shifted as fast as lightning. I'm still riding on that wave right as I type this. It's moments like these that remind me that there is some good in this world.
The past two days have been really amazing. I went with a friend to get her tattoo done. We had a fun time cruising around Davenport and talking. I know that I'm so lucky for the friends I have. I don't know what I would do without them.
It was my last day in Iowa City. It was rushed, but I got to see all the people who mean the most to me. It was really nice. While I was waiting for the bus, I met this older couple and both of them have Borderline Personality Disorder. It was refreshing. I was talking with people who understood. I didn't have to explain myself. They knew how it goes. They knew the mood swings, the anger, the feeling of worthlessness that I deal with every day.
They were inspiring. Relationships have been tricky for me because one day I feel like I want a solid and steady relationship, but the next day I feel smothered and trapped. Today I met a couple who deal with problems like I do and they were so in love. It was so beautiful. They weren't "perfect" or "normal." (And yes, I'm using that word. My psychiatrist tells me to lay off it.) They were like me.
I'm back in Omaha. I miss my friends, but this is what I needed. I'm home with my family.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The beginning
I'm in a good mood. I'm in a good questioning mood, actually.
Sometimes I wonder if my paranoia will turn into schizophrenia. That's what I obsess over. I already hear voices sometimes. I'm just waiting for it to take everything away from me. It terrifies me.
The doctors slap me with a diagnosis. First it was major depression (clinical depression). I thought that was it. That I was just really depressed. They put me on Lexapro. That helped for a little bit. I stopped taking my medicine because I thought I could handle it myself. I was probably about 15.
Wrong.
College came. I lost myself. I had a big breakdown during finals week. I went fucking psychotic. I ran around campus and screamed about Baby Jesus. I didn't sleep. I couldn't concentrate. I missed my acting final because I was freaking out too much. I didn't eat and smoked too many cigarettes. I didn't care anymore.
After winter break, I overdosed on Dramamine. I didn't care anymore. I don't remember anything about it. At all. I remember taking the pills, feeling funny, and then I woke up in the ER. The doctors had to decide whether I should be in the psychiatric ward or the heart care floor. In the end, my heart was more important, but they sent in a psychiatric team and questioned me briefly. That's when I learned about Borderline Personality Disorder. They told me that I was the perfect example. That I matched all the symptoms.
When things got back to how they used to be, I made an appointment to talk to the university counseling center. I pushed away my anxiety and opened up only to be told that I needed more than what they could offer me. They gave me a list of referrals. I haven't even looked at the paper, but I also had an appointment with one of the university's psychiatrist. I didn't know what to expect. When I had my first diagnosis, it was only from the family doctor. This was different.
She told me nothing new. She told me everything the psychiatric team told me. Borderline Personality Disorder. I still didn't know what that meant. She prescribed me Risperidone. I went back to my dorm and researched it. I had never found something that suited me so well. I had almost all of the signs and symptoms. I took my medicine. I tried to be happy.
The medicine helped me instantly. My friends told me it was like I was a different person. I was no longer angry. I no longer lashed out without warning. But my friends also told me that it changed me for the worst. Now I am dull. I'm quiet. I don't get excited anymore.
Every day is a struggle. People don't realize this. Getting up in the morning can be hard if I'm depressed, but sometimes I have a spring in my step and the day is beautiful. I can't control it. One second I'm flying with colors, but the next I'm tumbling to the ground. I hurt myself in any way I can think of.
This is a blog about my work-in-progress life.
Sometimes I wonder if my paranoia will turn into schizophrenia. That's what I obsess over. I already hear voices sometimes. I'm just waiting for it to take everything away from me. It terrifies me.
The doctors slap me with a diagnosis. First it was major depression (clinical depression). I thought that was it. That I was just really depressed. They put me on Lexapro. That helped for a little bit. I stopped taking my medicine because I thought I could handle it myself. I was probably about 15.
Wrong.
College came. I lost myself. I had a big breakdown during finals week. I went fucking psychotic. I ran around campus and screamed about Baby Jesus. I didn't sleep. I couldn't concentrate. I missed my acting final because I was freaking out too much. I didn't eat and smoked too many cigarettes. I didn't care anymore.
After winter break, I overdosed on Dramamine. I didn't care anymore. I don't remember anything about it. At all. I remember taking the pills, feeling funny, and then I woke up in the ER. The doctors had to decide whether I should be in the psychiatric ward or the heart care floor. In the end, my heart was more important, but they sent in a psychiatric team and questioned me briefly. That's when I learned about Borderline Personality Disorder. They told me that I was the perfect example. That I matched all the symptoms.
When things got back to how they used to be, I made an appointment to talk to the university counseling center. I pushed away my anxiety and opened up only to be told that I needed more than what they could offer me. They gave me a list of referrals. I haven't even looked at the paper, but I also had an appointment with one of the university's psychiatrist. I didn't know what to expect. When I had my first diagnosis, it was only from the family doctor. This was different.
She told me nothing new. She told me everything the psychiatric team told me. Borderline Personality Disorder. I still didn't know what that meant. She prescribed me Risperidone. I went back to my dorm and researched it. I had never found something that suited me so well. I had almost all of the signs and symptoms. I took my medicine. I tried to be happy.
The medicine helped me instantly. My friends told me it was like I was a different person. I was no longer angry. I no longer lashed out without warning. But my friends also told me that it changed me for the worst. Now I am dull. I'm quiet. I don't get excited anymore.
Every day is a struggle. People don't realize this. Getting up in the morning can be hard if I'm depressed, but sometimes I have a spring in my step and the day is beautiful. I can't control it. One second I'm flying with colors, but the next I'm tumbling to the ground. I hurt myself in any way I can think of.
This is a blog about my work-in-progress life.
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