A Sunday afternoon

The silence is filling the room, it feels thick and heavy. It’s quiet in the world outside of my head, but internally, there’s music playing, there’s background noise. It’s not exactly the kind of stuff I want to be hearing, but here I am. I’ll probably put some music on in a little while, or, even better, take a nap. I am so exhausted, fatigued. A nap is extremely tempting, as I’m feeling slightly sad, too, but I’m stubborn and I want to have the energy that I simply don’t have. I’m considering calling N tomorrow and letting her know that I’m seriously tired and out of it, and that I hope there’s some sort of adjustments that can be made to my medication.

It’s Sunday. So far a rather uneventful day. The medication seems to be keeping the voices mostly quiet, and my thoughts from racing faster than the speed of light. I count that as a win. My mood is still pretty good, I’m just a bit lonely. I’m glad I’m not getting as depressed about the drowsiness, as I was when we increased my Abilify again, it’s just pretty annoying these days. I’m stubborn, as I said. My thinking tends to be rigid and ritualistic. I like doing things a certain way, in a certain order, in a certain amount of time. In fact, I feel as though I need to do things in the exact way that I want them done. When I am faced with needing to change these things, I can see how rigid my mind is. This gives me a little perspective, which is refreshing yet unwelcome at the same time. Adding in Wellbutrin only made the drowsiness worse. I was depressed and frustrated by this for a bit. I’ll admit I’m still irritated by being so drowsy. I have to change my life around. My “certain way”, “certain order”, and “certain amount of time”, are all being affected. This does not compute. I am learning to be more flexible with myself and my routine. It’s hard work, but I’m learning and growing. I think it’s important to continue learning about ourselves and growing as people, and I strive for that. It isn’t all fun, and it doesn’t always feel good, but it’s necessary.

My paranoia is increasing lately…and I haven’t really said anything about it. I’m worried that I’m being watched. I feel like someone is lurking in the backyard, when night falls, and is just watching me and studying me. It’s definitely a shitty feeling. The hairs on the back of my neck are activated, as I feel, and know, eyes are on me. I’ve been reassured by D many times that there’s no one out there. There are no cameras in our backyard, no hidden microphones, there is no one listening to our conversations, there is no one watching me or staring at me. At least, he has attempted to reassure me. I’m not convinced. During the day, it’s not as bad. I can look out the windows and physically see that no one is there gazing back at me. Nighttime is when it starts in. Where we live, it gets quite dark at night, and we have a lot of trees and shrubs around that block a decent amount of light from neighboring houses. Anything could be out there, a voice whispers. It’s like a parasite entered my skull through my ear or something, just to tell me these things. Quite frankly, aside from feeling frightened of what could be lurking in the night, I get angry at the voice egging on my paranoia. Thanks a lot…scumbag brain. Haha. It is what it is. I try to have a good attitude about it, and laugh some of this off. It’s one of the ways I deal with my scumbag brain. I’m definitely not really liking going outside, in general, especially alone. Every time I do I feel eyes on me, just like boring a hole into the back of my head, making my skin crawl and itch. I become very self conscious, and suspicious of those around me. I don’t want to be noticed and seen. I wish I could turn invisible at will. Or have my all-time favorite superpower: shape-shifting.

I don’t want to increase my medication again because of my paranoia. I feel like, for now, it’s something I can possibly learn how to deal with and live with. We’ll see. I’m working on DBT and coping skills. I am trying to stick to doing things I love. I’m trying to take care of myself. I have the best support in the world, and I feel so fortunate about that every single day. I love my family. I really like N and my therapist, we’ll call her “T”.

When I talk with my parents about my experiences with mental illness, there is a lot of worry and they wish they could take it all away for me. I’d like to speak to the worry, and wanting to take it all away.

I’ll be fine. I’m a lot more stable these days than I was several years ago, and when I first began hearing voices and seeing things that aren’t there, and experiencing extreme moods. I have a stable home life, stable and meaningful relationships, I have a basic routine in my day to day life, I’m doing things that nourish my soul and are very therapeutic, I am learning new skills to deal with my mental illness, I’m extremely loved and supported. I’ll be fine. I’m learning to deal. In my opinion, I’m living my best life right now, I just have extra things to deal with that other people I know don’t have to deal with. That’s ok with me. As far as my mom saying she wishes she could take it away and make it better, I appreciate that so, so much. On the other hand, I am grateful for who I am and the things I deal with. I would not be where I am today, and I wouldn’t be who I am today, without this internal experience and deep struggle. I am filled with gratitude for the way my life is. If someone takes away my struggles with mental health, they take away a large part of what makes me who I am. For the first time in my life, I actually quite like who I’ve become. That feels weird to say, but it’s completely true. Because of mental illness, I have more compassion and understanding for people. I can read emotions, I am very caring. I listen. I try to understand their pain. I have decided to see this as a blessing in life, and not just something I go to war with or try to eliminate.

I picked up a new book, The Center Cannot Hold by Elyn R. Saks. I’ve been reading a lot more again lately, and I am very happy about that. I have been a reader for most of my life, but lost interest after having so much to study in college, and eventually I dropped out of college because of my mental health. I’ve attempted to read many books over the years, but I couldn’t really get into the words on the page. I tried listening to audio books, and that seemed to be ok for a little while. Eventually, though, the voices became too much, and listening to yet another person talking was not good for my brain. Finally! I have been able to read again. The new book I got is a memoir of a woman with schizophrenia. It will be nice to read the personal account of someone who also deals with similar things. I’ve been reading a more clinically inclined, heavily scientific, book about schizophrenia, written by an M.D. The book is very thorough and detailed, and takes a very objective look at the illness. I can appreciate the clinical perspective, but at the same time I don’t really like how incredibly impersonal it is and the way that people with schizophrenia are talked about. So now I have a couple of very different kinds of books on the subject to read. I’m looking forward to it.

My garden is looking amazing. That featured photo is my Gerbera Daisy. I pruned my basil and dill, and that was cool. We used the fresh dill on the fish for dinner, and I felt cool about that. I’m hoping to make pesto with the basil I’m growing. I will pesto all the things.

Stay insane, friends

~kiti

2 thoughts on “A Sunday afternoon

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