Psychosis: Chapter 1

I have decided to create this blog as a worshipping place, somewhere to purge myself.

To be honest, I feel it coming again- the psychosis I mean. I am unsure how long this will last, but I’m almost sure it will be with me for a while.

The last time it happened, I swear to you I had lost myself. Somewhere along the haze of opiates and stress, I had propelled myself into a whirlwind of self-destruction.

Though, I’ll tell you now, the drugs and alcohol were only there to help keep me balanced…

My father was a diagnosed manic depressive and drug addict. Years of suicide notes and heroin needles eventually did him in. He was just wired sad.

My mother, who is still around, was also a drug addict. 21 years later I come to find that several of my maternal family members harbored manic depression, along with acute schizophrenia.

It’s in my blood.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed as a manic depressive- which we know now by the infamous term “bi polar.” Either fortunately or unfortunately, I paid little heed to my therapist and disregarded my morose diagnosis. Instead, I went about my life still wondering why I suffered through bouts if crippling depression, addiction, a suicide attempt, and spurts of wild impulsivity (including selling all of my belongings at one point so I could be a traveller, and choosing to be homeless because somehow I believed I would be granted karma points). Not to mention intense periods of utter psychosis, voices, and visual hallucinations.

It is interestingly comforting to be able to write here what exactly is happening with me. I feel there is a grand stigma attached to mental health and illness. I find trouble coming to terms with it myself. I especially find trouble talking aloud about it.

My hopes for this outlet are to not only learn more about myself, but perhaps I will learn more from my readers and so on.

I do wish we could chat longer, but I’m having an old friend for dinner 
-Sylvia’s Junkie 

“is there no way out of my mind?” -Sylvia Plath


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