Wow! The Demon Drop Has Nothing On Me!

It's been a rough few days. It's seems dream-like and blurred together. When I think about it, I don't feel connected to that crazed woman I had become. It's like I am an outsider looking at a woman who was in a state of complete lunacy. I'm embarrassed for her. Then I think, "But that woman was YOU". That's when I state my apologies and promptly shake the memory from my head. It's best to forget about it and move on. Confrontation seldom ends in a peaceful resolution for me. I could share many stories spanning over my entire life time to prove it... but I never will. Somethings are best forgotten.

About a week ago, I remember not feeling quite right. I felt like I was "cycling". It's hard to explain. But it was something new to me. I thought maybe Depakote was slowing down my cycles; giving me a chance to recognize what was going on instead of having to rely on hindsight.

Then a couple days after that, I received some disappointing news. My boyfriend and I had been turned down for a job working for my family. There were valid reasons they gave, but still, I was devastated. I was shocked at how devastated I was. So was my boyfriend. He went and located me a big bag of weed.

It somewhat helped for a couple of days. During of which, I had a bout of hyperactivity. I started many projects and made plans to do many more. At the end of the day, I became overwhelmed by the prospect of having to complete everything I had started before bedtime. This led to anxiety which quickly led to me becoming snippy and then downright angry and mean. I managed to wind things up only to flip back to the crying, devastated thing I had been the night before. Yeah, a Demon Drop ride for sure. My neighbors started bringing me pot. Yep. I kept telling my boyfriend to be patient, I had a doctor's appointment coming up... I just had to get to it in one piece. (Yes, very suicidal.)

Finally, the doctor's appointment. Turns out that I had run out of a med with no refills just over a week ago! I've been experiencing withdraws. UGH! So that is straightened out now and hopefully the med levels will normal out again soon.

This whole med thing seems so complicated. It appears to be a guessing game trying to find the right pill cocktail that works for you. And from what I've been reading on side-effects and interactions, most of the street drugs I do are safer than these FDA approved drugs. (Although little to no medicinal value.)

G'Nite

Where to Begin?

Wow, I truly don't know where to begin. Where does peace come from? Where does it start? What does it feel like? All I am sure of is that peace eludes me. Looking back, I can remember a few peaceful periods in my life. But there was always something screwy going on... either in my head or coming from the screwy people I seemed to attract.

Chaos. I create it. I don't thrive on it like many do. I don't like it at all. But I think that quite possibly, I require it. For some reason, it is my comfort zone... the platform I am programmed to operate. I don't know why. They say it may be genetics. Maybe it's environmental. Or maybe, I've fried my central nervous system and brain with drugs so much so that I have developed a mental illness. My mom would say it's the drugs. (Of course she would say that.) She could be right. But that don't explain why my life before drugs exhibited the same messed-up dysfunctions and embarrassing scenarios. Drugs made the chaos more constant and more intense and more often than not, completely unbearable. But the chaos had already been there. The only time it can't be seen (by myself) is when I'm able to escape.

Ah, escapism is one of my specialities. I started reading when I was 5. Books became my world. Whatever book I was reading, was my life at that present time. It was hard to pull me away from a book. My parents would get so frusterated with me. By the time they were able to grab my attention, they would be yelling at me. I would look up from the book, surprised, shocked, hurt and confused. I had no clue why I was in trouble and was being yelled at. I was that into the story I was reading (living).

After books, there were TV shows, video games, the internet, and even sleeping. All methods of escape. Drugs didn't come into my life until kind of late. I was 28 when I snorted my first line. Then, and only then, did I discover the level of escapism I had always craved.

That was 10 years ago. I finally see for certain that I have been self medicating all these years. I am finally aware that something isn't quite right in my head... that my reality as I understand it to be... may not be at all.

This is a big pill for me to swallow. I haven't been given a diagnose yet. That is a work in progress. In the mean time, I've decided to write out what's going on in my head.

So, stay tuned. More is coming.