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Jan. 7th, 2016

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I Breathe? (What Had Happened.)

Hi!? Oh wow..It has been a very long four yea- justkiddingFiveYears since I have posted on LJ- or used much of the internet, outside of tumblr.
Well.. I don't know where to begin. (I deleted every entry because I was a manic/depressed little fart who should not have been so ..tasteless.)

1) I did get that job at the restaurant. I have had it all this time. I went from working as a dishwasher (Part-time,) to quitting said job, because they don't take mental health seriously (#2 and/or #3 will touch this.) I then returned to the restaurant, working dish full-time, because they needed someone- and I needed money to feed my addictions. I spent the next four years wrapped up in said addictions. I was promoted to ..Pizza-Cook? I dunno what to call it. Working Part-time, to fill the need. I then had a meltdown and went back down to dishwasher.. I *now* work Pizza (again,) Part-time after saying that I deserved a raise for even tolerating/enduring the shit that I go through in that role. And I refuse to work full-time unless I am paired with our (current/temporary? Line Cook who was formerly a Pizza Cook.)

2) I was in school for Music Business Management/Administration (3 year college program.) I dropped out before the end of the first semester. My medication was keeping me awake (Escitalopram,) and causing me manic hallucinations. Although it was problematic, I loved every second of it. I felt alive- I was also manic throughout the entire duration (one year.) I felt like I could feel the sun. I believed that I was seeing in colour (if you don't suffer with depression, this won't make sense.. depression makes us see/feel in greyscale. It makes you feel cold - and many other things.) But I could feel the sun. I felt it feeding me. I felt a tingly rush when I was under the sun.. I stayed awake constantly. I slept maybe 3-6 hours in a day (at the wrong times of the day- never at night.) I felt alive at night. I believed that I could survive at night and get all of my work done- and I did. I excelled. But then I started falling asleep during class- like.. head-slamming-into-desk asleep. And I'd wake up from that, with my classmates and professors alarmed. I was walking into invisible walls (shock, stopped movement,) and I was flinching constantly, for no reason. I would feel foggy and then suddenly I would feel enlightened and ecstatic to participate in the world. I felt little fear. I felt amazing.

Then I started drinking on it. I started smoking dope on it. I started snorting cocaine and molly on it. I felt like I could never die. I believed I would never die. I did endless types of drugs on this medication. I was risky in both my relationship and behavior with the outside world. I started having hallucinations at my friend's house- if it wasn't a shadow, I was seeing electricity and sparkles/stars (I forget what I called them.) I started shouting "woo/wooHOO" with my friend- who was also on this same medication. We fed each other's broken minds that night. And then I'd go home and feel perfectly fine. No hangovers, no drug-crashes. Very little need for sleep. I could do it again.

It was during this time (2010-2011) that I was analyzed by psychiatrists and a psychologist. I started off with a diagnosis of GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder,) Major Depression, and GID (Gender-Identity Disorder.) It was around this time that my depression deflated me. My dosage was increased from 10mg to 20mg, and then to 40mg, until I had a seizure- grand mal- at work (serotonin syndrome, 2011.)

I then saw the psychologist after I had dropped out (and quit the job, in 2012-2013,) and it was then that I was informed that I am Bipolar. I was in denial and had a meltdown in her office, telling her that she was "wrong and I am not bipolar, I am Borderline! Why don't you believe me? Snifflesnifflehackhack" (Borderline Personality Disorder.) She was taken back, and could only offer me tissues because I could barely hold myself up to breathe. I did not meet her eyes. I felt like a monster. I bussed home, bawling my eyes out and having some form of a meltdown.

When I next saw my doctors a few weeks later- I cancelled the follow-up appointments, (I had emailed my nurse- and she forwarded it to my doctor on-campus- saying that I was stopping the trial and taking amino and omega supplements to tackle the SS symptoms,) they shared with me my psychoanalysis reports (from the first Psych I saw, and the psychologist's report.) It was noted in February 2011 that he exhibited BPD traits (I was not informed of this, nor did I share with him that I felt I was borderline.)
The psychologist (bless her startled heart,) noted the following:
"Became uncomfortable during session, left crying, shaken.

  • Bipolar Spectrum Disorder

  • BPD traits (Emotionally Unstable)

  • Bipolar type-2

  • Obsessive, Perspective, Positive Self-Thinking

  • Seek help when ready"

It was in 2013 that I started my trial of Citalopram- the drug that the psychiatrist had asked for me to be prescribed. (College had misread or opted to give me the new form, escitalopram. Citalopram saved me. Although I felt like a baked potato (too hot/clammy, dehydrated constantly, dry mouth,) I was finally quiet in the mind. I could hear myself breathe. I could feel myself thinking- and slowly. I was coherent. I was in-tune with my desires in life- and I could properly plan it all out. I felt perfect. Not manic-perfect, but calm. I felt regular, normal.
And then my seizures returned. Petit Mal seizures, less complex seizures. And then I started having hallucinations again, and variable thoughts that broke my confidence in the outside world.

3) It was 2013 when I decided to stop Citalopram. It was 2013 when I asked for my job back. It was 2013 when my boyfriend left me for a girl who he'd gotten pregnant (he wanted to start a family, something I couldn't give him.) It was 2013 when I was approached in an unsafe manner by an employee. (This brought back traumatic flashbacks for a few months. Traumatic dreams. Repressed memories re-revealing themselves. Repressed realizations of abusive relationships from the past.) It was 2013 when my Nana passed away. It was 2013 when I had started an intimate relationship with someone* whom I never should have approached (I was emotionally vacant due to my failed relationship, my Nana's passing, and my breaking-apart family unit.) It was 2013 when I finally decided to listen to my instincts- It was this year that I was first stalked by someone*. It was 2013 when I had realized that my best friend was never going to accept me again. It was 2013 when I started shutting everyone out. It was 2013 when I began to dissociate. It was 2013 when I started practicing yoga. It was 2013 when I discovered that I have Hidradenitis Suppurativa (of the groin.)

4) In 2014 I realized that I could no longer work out or practice yoga without restricting my movement (HS.) Because of this disease/disorder, I can't over-exert myself- or do a simple lunge, without tearing my skin open like tissue paper. Because of this disease/disorder, my tolerance for pain has sky-rocketed. I used to be the person to lift the kegs up a flight of stairs, through a kitchen, and to the bar (front of house.) During those times, if the keg remotely layed against me, the site would bleed or tear. I can no longer get those kegs (they were a 'work out' in my eyes. A desired work out.) Because of this disease/disorder, I can't climb shit. If I lift my leg to swing my lower-body onto something, the skin tears (and because I'm 5'5" on a good day, I can't reach those pizza boxes 2-3ft. above my head. Do my coworkers care? No. I must climb up onto the table and rip myself open.) HS bleeds randomly. If it isn't blood, it's (lymph or keratin/protein, or bacteria, or pus- thankfully I've not experienced the pus yet.) It forms tracts and tunnels, which ache randomly (I can't even figure out how to explain this to anyone. I just hurt. And I no longer care to acknowledge it.) Polysporin has become my newest "need" item.
Sex-life? What sex-life? The shame associated with being seen- by anyone, even by one's own self, is horrifying. I hate looking at myself in the mirror. I can't have sex with the lights on ever again (I don't even want a relationship anymore because I don't want to go through the "It's not an STD it's HS" because who knows what HS is? Not-many-people.

The best part? There really is no cure for HS. There's various alternatives, but HS never really "goes away." It may go into remission (which is nice. Less painful. Still broken skin.) But it never really leaves the body.

Oh yeah and in 2014 I stopped smoking (everything) and I stopped snorting drugs. I stopped taking pills. I did pretty good. I started taking a multivitamin. I tried to meditate but Idk how so.. -shrug- And then I had surgery (3 teeth. 2 wisdoms and 1 chewing molar.) They gave me an IV and laugh-gas, and prescribed me codeine (drug of choice..) so.. I kind of melted. I saved 2 or 3 of them to shake/rattle when I'm needing reassurance. I don't want to take them, because I used to hide drugs on myself (and when I found them, I'd eat/use them up immediately..) but I keep them to show myself that I have a security blanket. One that can't be used. It's nice (in a twisted way.)

5) 2015 was a lot of dissociating. I don't think I lived much. I developed obscene anxiety about planes falling out of the sky, and I had a series of panic attacks when a plane fell near Netherlands. (I also panicked when my Dutch friend flew in to America for a week..) This year I went to work with my thoughts and feels to myself. I had a few meltdowns. I avoided people. I tried reaching out to Fireball and Spider (two friends I thankfully still have..) and the odd time I would see Fireball. She really held me up through that year. I had a lot of hallucinations (shadows, lights, auditory things,) and I believed that I was being haunted (by my Nana, by Dustin, by millions of other spirits.) I still think I'm haunted but I have little trinkets to protect myself. This was the year that I started wearing my cross again. I started seeing my best friend again before she (and her kids, and her pets) moved away.. I saw both sons actually, before the year ended. The older boy said that they may move back in town. I'm hopeful that they do.. I miss them. (She has BPD too..and she helped me a lot from 2010-2012. In 2013 I avoided the world..so I didn't see her much until the end of 2015. Regret.)

It was in this year that Mouse let me know that he's considering moving.. This is a huge void in my soul right now. But I need to support him. This was also the year that we almost established a relationship with eachother (I mean, we almost became boyfriends. Which I think would be a big no-no.) This was the year that I think I may have broken his heart..

This was the year that people started supporting me on twitter. I started to feel humbled by various users adding me to categories, like "Motivational Speakers," "Spreads Kindness," "Compassionate," etcetera. It allowed me to realize that I am a good person.. I am a kind soul. I do deserve help and I do deserve to help people.

At the end of 2015 (On New Year,) I gathered the courage to text everyone in my phone list. I wished them a great new year. I was really humbled by the responses. I'm not forgotten, and apparently I was missed. I got into contact with Spider again (Fire and I visited him at work one day, surprising him and I think helping him a bit.) I then saw him again the next day, at a local thrift store (I was getting random impulse-buys, my mom getting my brother snowpants.)

6) 2016 Started off with me having an anxiety attack (hahaha!) 2016 also continued with me having a semi meltdown during work (as I thoroughly planned out how I would jump into the stone oven- 650F-  and how I would close the door behind me.) It was this week that I decided that I am going to ask a doctor for a benzo to use (if needed,) at work. I have yet to go see this doctor- and I work this Friday. I hope I survive this weekend. I almost have the information I need.

2016 is going to be a good year. I'm determined to make it one. It's new and scary, but also exciting. (For the love of anything, please don't let planes fall this year...) I've been having massive heart palitations over terrorism and technological/machine failure. I've had it with this century.