Monday, November 30, 2009

Insanity Continues

But on the bright side, I took a douche bag out of my life and I'm medicated again. Still hate that I am, but whatever. I guess that's life, right? My room is relatively clean, I have clean laundry, I'm going home for winter break in two weeks thus giving me time and space away from this place to figure all my shit out. The semester is almost over. There is light at the end of my tunnel.

Yeah, I've been updating more. It makes me proud of myself. I've been doing more. Maybe it's because I'm not an emotionless blob anymore. Yay. Now to make it through Dead Week and Finals Week. I think I can do it. I think. Then it's back to Albuquerque. No more drama. From here at least. At least for a little bit. I think I have enough food to last. If not maybe one of my sisters will share. I've been getting stuff done. Yay. Feeling is good for something I guess.

Saturday, November 21, 2009


Yeah, I'm bipolar, and yes, I'm medicated for it. And if you saw how I was before I got meds, and you saw how I was after I got them, you know they help. So you're probably wondering why I went almost three months without them after 8 months on them. I know I need them, so why wouldn't I just make a simple phone call? I kept saying it was because I didn't like calling people and that I was too busy, but that really wasn't it. The truth is, I hate being medicated.

It isn't that weird shit happens to me or that it takes away from who I am or anything like that. On the contrary, I'm way better when I'm on them. I know that. My thing is that I wish I didn't have to be dependent on some kind of chemical to make me normal. I was able to live the first 18 years of my life without it and being relatively sane, so why couldn't I do it now, right? Being dependent on something just makes me feel weak, like I can't provide for myself. I feel like I fail because I can't be normal because I'm stuck taking medication so that I don't go from suicidal to high-risk behavior to angry to overly confident to apathetic to super bubbly. I hate it. So I didn't replace my meds for almost three months because I wanted to prove to myself that I could live without them and be fine. And it took me that long to figure out that I can't And now I just feel like a failure.

My councilor that I'm seeing right now says that being bipolar is a chemical condition that I can't control. It doesn't change the fact that I feel like I should be able to have full control over my body and I don't. I know I can't do anything about it and that I have to have the medication to be normal. Too bad it sucks and I wish with everything I have that I wasn't this way. Hell, I've only taken two pills and I'm already feeling better. I mean, fuck. Why do I have to be like this? This is one of the worst feelings ever. Plus, have you ever looked at side effects of these medications? It's ridiculous!! Let me tell you what the side affects are listed for on what I'm taking:

SIDE EFFECTS that may occur while taking this medicine include decreased sexual desire or ability; diarrhea; dizziness; drowsiness; dry mouth; increased sweating; lightheadedness when you stand or sit up; loss of appetite; nausea; stuffy nose; or tiredness. If they continue or are bothersome, check with your doctor. CONTACT YOUR DOCTOR IMMEDIATELY if you experience absent menstrual period; bizarre behavior; black or bloody stools; chest pain; confusion; decreased concentration; decreased coordination; fainting; fast or irregular heartbeat; hallucination; memory loss; new or worsening agitation, panic attacks, aggressiveness, impulsiveness, irritability, hostility, exaggerated feeling of well-being, restlessness, or inability to sit still; persistent, painful erection; red, swollen, blistered, or peeling skin; seizures; severe or persistent anxiety or trouble sleeping; severe or persistent headache; stomach pain; suicidal thoughts or attempts; tremor; unusual bruising or bleeding; unusual weakness; unusual or severe mental or mood changes; vision changes; or worsening of depression. AN ALLERGIC REACTION to this medicine is unlikely, but seek immediate medical attention if it occurs. Symptoms of an allergic reaction include rash; hives; itching; difficulty breathing; tightness in the chest; swelling of the mouth, face, lips, or tongue. This is not a complete list of all side effects that may occur. If you have questions about side effects, contact your health care provider. Call your doctor for medical advice about side effects. You may report side effects to FDA at 1-800-FDA-1088

Dead serious, that is the list, word for word, given to me by the pharmacy with the mediation. How are you supposed to feel when you read something like that, knowing that a drug that has the potential to do all of that is being voluntarily placed in your body for the hope of getting "better"? I mean, really, it's scary shit. And then I wonder what kind of stuff that happens to me is a side effect of the medication or just me being crazy. How do I know if it is really working the way it's supposed to or to its full potential? It just sucks.

I hate being medicated. I hate saying that I need it. I hate knowing I need it. What's worse is telling people about it. You tell someone you're bipolar and they flip out on you thinking that you're going to go crazy on them. Look, I'm fine. I think. Maybe I'm not. Maybe it is the safe thing for people to stay away from me; fewer people would be hurt by me then. I'm tired of making people hurt because of me. Maybe I should just go elsewhere or excommunicate myself so that people will stop being hurt because of me.

Monday, November 9, 2009


Can't you see that everything I'm doing now is a cry for help?

Sunday, November 8, 2009


It hit me today that I don't care about anything. Quite literally, anything. School, life, friends, family, me, anything. I don't care. If someone I knew was shot in front of me, I'd look at them and say, "Fuck." Then I'd walk away. If I was kidnapped, gang raped, and left bleeding and missing a limb on the side of the street, I'd just lay there and not give two shits. God damn it, what have I become? Really, I don't know who I am. I hate me, hate the life I'm living, hate what I'm doing. But I can't stop. I just keep going faster and faster and the worst part is that I don't even care. I hate it but I don't care. Odd. I don't have the will to make myself stop. I can't make myself stop. Maybe I do all this crazy shit because that's me crying for help. So when my friends tell me they gave up on me, too, and that they don't give a shit for me anymore, either, well, what do you think? Not what I need and yet this never ending apathy makes me not give a shit. And I hate that I don't care. And yet I don't even have the strength to do that. So fuck. You want the life of a young adult? This is the life of a 19 year old finally fucking up so bad that if she makes it out alive on the other side, be impressed.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

My Life

I don't even know what to make of it anymore. I'm just not who I was. Maybe it's a good thing, maybe it's not. But I don't think I can ever go back to that person. For those who've hardly seen me since I came back to school, I doubt you'll really recognize who I've become. I'm not the person you saw leave over the summer. I'm fucked up now, done some crazy shit, and been places you probably never thought I'd go. My birthday yesterday was a bit of a reality check. Life isn't just one big party and sometimes you've got to step back and think, "What the fuck am I doing?" That's what I've hit right now. It was made ever more apparent by James coming to visit and me really realizing, "Fuck, I'm nothing like what he remembers and it's only been two months." I'm rapidly running in a direction that I don't know if I can turn from but part of me doesn't want to. I'm not really sure anymore. But this person I am now, I know I don't even know who it is. And I think that part of it is that I'm hiding from myself right now. James is still convinced that I'm a good person. I don't believe him. I really think it's time to do a bit of soul searching.