I may or may not have had a super seriously fucking crazy few weeks.
I may or may not just fucking vent the shit out of myself right now.
Ready, set, go.
I was on stimulants and a bipolar medication during the last semester of school, which worked out nicely. I made Dean's List again, which felt good. I was creative, I was pushing myself. I felt normal for the first time in a long time.
Then back in May, my university physician took me off the Abilify because it was making me sleep too much. And then upped my stimulants again, and also put me on a thyroid medication, thinking maybe that'd give me more energy. It was more energy than I could handle, and I did a lot of things I regret in my manic phase, which lasted about two months. I spent too much money, I worked too much. I slept very little. But I kept getting things done, and I was happy until July rolled around.
I came back from a camping trip with my parents, and I fell into working eight days in a row at work. Everyday it was an eight hour shift, and my energy levels started to drain. On my days off I couldn't get anything done because I was so tired from working. The apartment got messy, I couldn't take care of myself like I wanted. I then had a few friends visit for the weekend, and while I planned on working my seven day streak, I ended up calling in for some of it because I couldn't go to work with the bruising around my neck from having too much fun. It was a good, refreshing break. But I still felt exhausted, I wasn't sleeping like I should have been.
Right after working a few days I went right into an eleven day vacation with my family. About eight family members and me took an RV up to upstate New York to visit more family. The entire ride there I got very little sleep, and I couldn't sleep while we were driving. I was extremely tired most of the trip, and I sat in the back near the table with my ear buds in, listening to old music from middle school and high school. I was left alone inside of myself without distractions. That's when the flashbacks started to happen. And I mean, every little memory in my brain started coming out, things I never thought I would remember, things that I had repressed with ease and never thought of again, starting coming forward. I know the past is the past, but the emotions regarding these horrible situations were taunting me and dragging me down. The ride back was the same, sitting in the back and trying to forget about the fighting family members, and the extra money we have to deal out because of someone's miscalculation on gas. Everyone consistently fought, the tension was so thick in the air you could cut it. I wish I hadn't gone, and instead saved my money, and maybe myself. Once I got back I stayed in Aberdeen for a few days while my car got worked on. I paid over $600 to get my car fixed, when it ran just fine. So most of my money was gone, and I was struggling to pay my credit card debt and keep my head a float long enough to pay some rent.
Right before I came back to Brookings I became seriously ill. I developed a terrible cough and my throat was insanely sore. I still worked the entire time I came back, but I was dry heaving and consistently running to the bathroom. I ate nothing but a can of soup everyday, I was so nauseous I had to force feed myself. The news that an old classmate had died didn't help either way, and at one point, as I was sick, I started to seriously question my mortality again. Mom said I shouldn't go to the emergency room, but everyone else did, and I accidentally overdosed on acetaminophen one night. I awoke with night sweats and convulsions, but I was so sick that I tried to calm myself down and sleep some more before my impending shift at work.
It took a week and a half before I started to get better, and I tried my hardest to be social. I knew I was falling apart, and I needed to stay in people's company because I was afraid to be alone with myself. My moods had become erratic and hard to control. My hair had even started to fall out from the thyroid medication, everytime I had my hand up in my hair, strands upon strands started to fall out. I couldn't sleep most nights. I sought relief with the card I always kept in my back pocket, and that was the card I always used when I was backed in a corner. Suicide was consistently on my mind at that point, and thinking about it had brought immense comfort to me. No one knew exactly what was going on, but I wasn't about to taking about it. I was up late one night searching the internet for my prescriptions, to see what I could easily overdose on. My Adderall was the best bet I realized.
About a week ago my room mate announced that she may or may not have bed bugs... and that's when I started to break. I had lost my security and safety, which was my room. The one place I could go, and be away from everything else. The paranoia set in, as I knew it would have been a matter of time before I had gotten them. I didn't have the money to clean everything... or get rid of my infected things. I felt even more trapped. Last Wednesday I had probably the worse day at work that could be imagined, I had sobbed in the bathroom twice, and screamed at a coworker. I was just one person, but they wanted me to be five. After work I went home, and then went with some friends to hopefully get my shit together. I stayed at their place, but my mood had started to sink, and I was soon nearly catatonic. I was staring at the TV, watching Oblivion. But there was a problem, I could hear the words, but they were not making sense in my head. I had complete brain fog, and all my fear had disappeared. I could barely talk, but I figured that if I took Adderall, I could understand more.
It ended up not helping, but instead increased my anxiety. The horror movies we watched started to drive me insane, and I couldn't stay in one place. I walked around, trying to get somewhere comfortable. I suddenly had a realization, a rather scary one. After chatting with a friend on Facebook about it, I knew I had a hard decision to make the next day. I had a doctor's appointment, and I could make an emergency counseling appointment, and tell the honest to god truth about what had been happening and possibly be hospitalized, or just let them know some things weren't going well and try not to off myself. I didn't sleep that night due to the Adderall, but that didn't matter, I couldn't function because my moods were so unpredictable with or without it. I went to my appointment unshowered, jittery, and sleepless. I got to the end of the appointment before I blurted out something about my violent urges, and that's when they called an appointment. I didn't care if I missed work, I was scared for myself, I was losing complete control and I needed help. Getting in with my counselor I let her know everything. I told her everything that had been happening, that I wasn't sleeping, that I had lost near 50 lbs because I couldn't eat, that I was so moody I couldn't function. And the worst of it was my violent urges. I couldn't hurt myself anymore, and I couldn't hurt anyone else. But I could antagonize and find someone who could hurt me, and possibly take me way over any boundaries I had and land me in the hospital. I wanted pain but I couldn't have it.
After some deliberation, the counselor told me that I was going to need to be hospitalized up in Sioux Falls. I was scared, and less than thrilled. Luckily most of the Adderall was out of my system, and I was able to go to the clinic in Sioux Falls without being handcuffed in the back of the Sheriff's police car.
While there at the hospital, I talked to many people who were trying to help me. My doctor realized that I shouldn't have been on such high doses of stimulants. It was causing me to crash and burn every day, if not multiple times a day. So the first days I spent most of my time sleeping. I couldn't read or understand some things, like my brain was completely fogged over. I also hardly ate. He had taken me off most of my meds because they were the ones that had been fucking with my head, and I felt the effects.
Things got much better when I started socializing with the other people who were here for most of the same problems. I made a lot of friends, and I started getting much better. I was able to myself again. After being hospitalized Thursday through Monday, I feel as though things will finally be okay. I made my mom cry, which she doesn't often do, but at least she knows that I'll be fine. School starts in less than a week, and I do believe I can make the semester alright. Despite money problems, and shaky relationships, I know I can make it out alive. I'm realizing now that I can chip away at my problems and make things better. I'm just to know I have the support and love from my friends, because without them I may not be here.
