Saw Dr. A today. He witnessed first hand some of the joy which is my trembling hands/weak muscles and decided to lower my lithium down 300 mg again to see if that helps with it. He’s also going to try to get me into the Royal Ottawa Hospital’s outpatient program, whereby I would see a psychiatrist on a regular basis. This is a good thing. I think. He’s also asked me to try and get involved with the Mood Disorder…
As I sit here with my morning cuppa, let’s get back to the caffeine addiction which causes headaches if it is not fulfilled. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to keep caffeine to a minimum with my meds, but it just ain’t gonna happen with me. I mean look at the name of this blog.
I used to have someone I could talk to when I was feeling suicidal and would tell me “not now”. But at least I had that one person I felt I could go to. What she did to me, her betrayal of my trust, has caused my introvert to come out seriously. I don’t trust anyone anymore. Which has lead to my burst of honesty. No one can betray me if I have no secrets, right?
Emilie has not had the easiest life, but what impresses and amazes me about her is how she expresses her pain through her music and writing. Her album Opheliac, for instance, metaphorically discusses a lot of painful times in her life which led to her incarceration in a mental hospital. Her book, “The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls” incorporates actual journal entries from her time there.
It’s far too easy to get lost in someone else’s world so you don’t have to face this one. And I know this isn’t a condition that effects only the sick, anyone can have it. Anyone who finds the confines of their world to be too small. And, you know, in moderation it’s not a horrible thing. It’s when one gets to the obsessive levels that worry is necessary.
Yesterday, at the request of my co-guider who’s been working on a bullying challenge with the girls but would be missing the meeting, I got to speak to my rangers about suicide, self harm, and mental illness. Obviously it was tough for me and I did cry a bit but I feel this is the sort of thing it’s really important to talk with teens about.
Why? Poison the mad until they’re either sane or dead? Is that it? …no. That’s just my frustration talking. This is just all so annoying. My doctor, though an amazing man who obviously does want to help me, doesn’t know enough about this sort of thing. I need a proper psychiatrist. And maybe a therapist, though I don’t really want one of those. I have no problem just keeping my cynical life view.
So we surround ourselves with thoughts of death and then act surprised when someone follows through on them? As a society, I think we humans are rather confused. We put too much importance into inconsequential things and not enough in each other.
I’ve joked with friends for years about how I’m secretly multiple people. I guess that’s one way to think of it. Or maybe you could compare me with the phases of the moon with only certain parts showing but still being the same body? I don’t know. I really don’t.
Facebook has once again claimed a “To Write Love on Her Arms” day. And while the original charity actually does some pretty cool stuff, and has some great information, I have come to HATE the “days” proclaimed on Facebook.