Alright. I hit a bit of a manic wall over the weekend. Saturday morning, I went to the college campus to pick up my script and do a meet-and-greet of the cast. Then, I flew on over to a therapy appointment. I know that I’ve been feeling a little bit different over the past couple of weeks, but I think it became very evident in my therapy session; I felt so wildly manic that entire day. I couldn’t help but keep giggling throughout the session, especially when I would think about his suicide…
Yesterday, I took a nap with my girlfriend. We must have slept for3 or 4 hours. When I awoke, a really powerful surge of intense loneliness began to climb all over my body. I felt detached from life, as if everything was a dream. Derealization at its finest. I didn’t even feel like myself. I was watching the world through the ghost shell of me.
I wanted to be clutched and held down, afraid to float away. And as my girlfriend hugged me tightly, a small voice echoed inside, “Please, don’t let me leave again. Keep me here, keep me here.”
It’s always the same scene. It’s the movie that captures the hours before my death, or before my own suicide. These pockets of non-suspecting human interaction, the essence of life itself, slowly being stolen from me. It’s always the same scene… where I’m walking down the street, someone looks at me, doesn’t say hello… just a few hours after that pitiful lack of connection, I’d be swinging from a noose or I’d have an aneurysm and someone would be finding my body in the living room.
I know, this all sounds awful and morbid. Why would I think of such a plot? The problem is, I’m not trying to think of it at all. It just happens. And I hate it. It’s TERRIFYING. It’s almost as if I suddenly have flashbacks of deaths from my past lives and they come flooding in. The experience is very intense.
Last night was no exception. I felt paralyzed by sadness. I was scared that I would wake up from a long com, that none of this would be real.
The feeling of not being able to escape my own mind is maddening.
What’s wrong? I am unable to finish my own sentences. I begin to speak and about two other voices echo and mock my voice. My head is an acoustics gallery. It is all very loud. Are they hallucinations or just a manifestation of the DID? I’m not sure, you see, I don’t have fucking credentials in psychology. Yes, I’m hallucinating.
What’s wrong? My cynicism is growing fat and it is breathing, it is alive with a sick, gluttonous grin. A black snake is laying on my shoulders, hissing and rattling.
What IS wrong with me? I’m seeing a new psychiatrist tomorrow at noon. Perhaps it’s as simple as a med adjustment. I keep hearing someone breathing and it drives me insane, until I realize that maybe it’s my own breath…
I have moments of sheer psychotic thoughts of wanting to dig into my thighs with a cleaver. Then, I laugh. So I’m not sure what is more psychotic- the thought of origin or the humour that pours from the imagined scene?
I don’t feel like myself at ALL. Even when someone calls my name, it takes me a second to realize they are calling me. And then frustration ensues. I feel angry. I’m angry about being diagnosed with anything. I’m angry that I have alternate personalities. I think it’s fucking ridiculous. I don’t even feel that they exist anymore, or that they EVER existed. I think I’ve just been through the fucking wringer all of my fucking life so I’m just a little bit fucked up. But multiple personalities? No.
I don’t feel like my past exists. I’ve been dropped here. I’m picking up after someone’s messy attempt at thriving- or surviving for that matter.
I’m angry that I can’t seem to snap myself out of this. I’m angry that I can’t connect with people. I’m angry that I feel like I’m dreaming.
If I think hard enough about it, what I think I need is A) med adjustment B) The beach. I think that would be wonderful. I want to bundle up in sweater and go to the beach at night time to smell the sea, look at stars, and feel the cold water against my legs. Maybe then I could feel grounded.