Paranoia Bullets, the Zyprexa Edition


Well, she prescribed me Zyprexa. I would like a second opinion, though. So, I think I’m going to see another psychiatrist next week, or as soon as possible.

(I wish I could help myself by simply applying the kindergartener’s philosophy; crafting via finger paints and macaroni necklaces. I wish I could cure myself by succorance and constant communication)

Though when I was at work, later on in the day I kept hearing my coworkers talking about how insane I am…and I thought…maybe Zyprexa isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Does anyone have any experience with olanzapine? Good, bad?

The appointment went well, over all. Oh, to blahpolar, the dr asked me how I was doing, and I responded with a chipper, “Tenebrific!” She was definitely amused at my response, as well as the short story I told her about it.

It was a short appointment. I let her know what’s been happening since I saw her last week. I let her know about the brutal suicidal thoughts I was having two nights ago. Nothing seemed to surprise her.

After I left her office, I stepped into the elevator. There was a man behind me and I truly felt as if he was going to stab me. I felt so paranoid. Even as I was driving back to work, I felt everyone staring at me, following me. Then, I began to think about how this same thing would happen to me when I was younger. I was constantly on my toes, thinking that someone was peering through my window, ready to shoot me. I would crawl on the floor to avoid the bullets. To this day, actually, I get that feeling frequently. I’ll have to do little ritualistic things to rid myself of the overwhelming expectation of getting shot.

Again, I felt that I was being filmed. I couldn’t shake it off. What a peculiar sensation it was.

This morning, the familiar, tendrillar, black creature wrapped it’s wiry limbs around me. The voices pervaded my very thoughts. I’m sure anxiety has a lot to do with it. You see, not only was I nail-biting over my appointment today, but work itself was a harrowing feat. I raise my glass of wine to all of you. Mondays are a bitch.

In other news, my mom finally called me. She is still at home, living with her husband. It bothers me. It really bothers me, actually. Yet, what say do I really have? Absolutely none. Other than residing in the same home as her asshat husband, she seems well and in high spirits. She is looking for work currently. I hope she finds a better life for herself soon.


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