Episode 12916 – TRIGGER WARNING

…ugh… TRIGGER WARNING

Have I mentioned lately that I am currently out of my medications? Because I am. I haven’t had my mood stabilizers or my antidepressants since my birthday. That was about 2 weeks ago. I ran out of my seroquel 2 days ago.

I was OK. Stable enough to maneuver through mood swings and a couple of anxiety attacks. But the anger is becoming an issue. Walking away, that usually seems to help.

My husband and I have been in Austin for the past couple of weeks, so, really, there hasn’t been much of a problem. At least not until I ran out of my seroquel. It helps me sleep. It’s my anti-psychotic. I rely on that one most of all.

So… it’s been about 48 hours. I’ve had maybe 4 hours of interrupted sleep. Last night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I would shut my eyes I would have a panic attack. So I stayed up…watched Netflix. The last time I looked at the time it said 5:41. I was up when hubby started getting ready for work. And passed back out shortly after that. Only to be woken up by a panic attack and a leg cramp. Joy. That turned into a mess of tears. Then, the vomiting started. (Just FYI: I hate throwing up. I would rather have diarrhea than have to throw up. I hate it. It scares me.)

Today we were supposed to check out. So between crouching over the toilet, I had to somehow get dressed, pack up our things, and stop crying. Not an easy task.

Finally I get packed. Hubby calls and says he on the way – it’s his lunch break. So we can go get lunch and put everything in the car. Well, he comes in and I start crying. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. And I’m sick as a dog. A friend of ours is going to let me stay in her room until it’s time to go home – hubby has to go back to training. But the card key doesn’t work. So we go get him lunch, I’m trying not to puke in the car. I can’t take the smell of food or the motion of the car. Finally, I tell him that I have to get something for my stomach. We pull in at 7-11 and I find pepto, but my stomach has other plans and, fortunately,  the ladies restroom is open. 10 minutes later, with a line waiting on me, I emerge from the restroom pale as a ghost and sweat dripping down my face. This is such a great look for the public.

Finally, we’re able to make it to the friends room where I’m told to lay down and relax and try to rest. More crying. Then drifting off to a restless sleep.

Everything else is fine. Until we get home. We have someone house sitting for us, so I can go be with hubby. Well person irritates me. Why? Because I’m not a people person, I don’t like having someone in my house, even if they are family.

I can’t say that I’m OCD, but I do have a way of doing things and how I like things to be. I like my dvd’s in a organized matter. Each series is in order from left to right. Duh. Well, that always gets messed up. Fine. Whatever. The litter box is overflowing. Literally. Gross. The fridge smells, because leftovers are thrown in bowls without lids and then thrown into the fridge. The trash is overflowing. There is puppy poop everywhere – because they bring their puppy. But the thing that takes the cake: they are sleeping in my bed. They have a room with a bed – albeit an air mattress, but a bed just the same.

Maybe it’s not a big deal, but it bothers me. I don’t like people in my bedroom, and I really don’t like them in my bed. It bothers me, a lot.

So, unmedicated me, jumps off the wagon into the deep darkness. I grab the first thing that I see – a box cutter. And I don’t know why it’s there, who it belongs to, but it’s there and now it’s in my hand. I’m just looking at it. The blade. Knowing all too well what I can do, what I want to do. And I just start shaking. Because part of me is screaming to put it down, the other is telling me to just do it because I’ll feel better. By this point, hubby is telling me to put it down. There’s a stand off, and I don’t know how long I stand there, looking at it, arguing with myself in my mind, hearing my hubby telling me to put it down.

And eventually, I put it down.

Then something snaps.

I don’t remember much. I don’t remember what was going on in my mind other than I was mad. I remember that I was embarrassed,  this is the first episode that I’ve had in front of hubby where I’ve actually tried to hurt myself.

Shaking. All over. Everything is shaking, even my insides are shaking.

Voices in my head screaming at me.

I don’t want to do this. I’m a failure. I mess everything up. I’m done.

I remember hitting my head. I want the voices to be silenced.

My scalp hurts – I pulled my hair.

I have claw marks on my arm – I guess I scratched myself.

I have pinch marks on my chest.

I see myself in the mirror and turn away, I can see the monster. I want to break the mirror.

And then there’s hubby. But I don’t want him. I’m going to hurt him. I don’t want him to touch me. I begin to back away and find myself on the floor crying.

He sits with me. Listens to me screaming. Holds my hands so I can’t hurt myself more. And he starts talking to me.

“Do you remember when we went to San Antonio and got lost? And we ended up driving around, and remember the train tracks? I just got my car, and we hit those tracks and we came off the ground, we both hit our heads. Remember when we got there and Good was there?”

“Remember our wedding day?”

“I love you.”

But that starts the onslaught of negative thoughts. And I get mad. I start screaming and I don’t know why. I don’t deserve love. Look at the monster!

There’s a sudden peace. Everything is fine. Because I know. I know I don’t belong here. No one needs me. And you, you’ll be fine. Because you are so special. And so wonderful. And you deserve so much better. Don’t you see? You’ll be fine.

“And what am I supposed to do? And my sister’s lose a sister,  my mom loses a daughter, my dad a daughter. And your mom? And nanny? You are so loved by so many people. You are needed here.”

“You’ve been out of your medicines for how long, two weeks. Don’t you think that’s affecting you?”

You have a chemical imbalance,  real or not real? Real…

It’s ok to not be 100% all the time, real or not real? Real…

We go on like this for a while. Until I finally realize I’m having an episode. Sitting on the floor, my hands in his, until I’m ready to get up. We walk to the bed and he just holds me.

Rockee has been upset. She’s jumped on me a couple of times and nudged me. And now that I’m in the bed she can be beside me. And she hasn’t left my side since.

I still can’t sleep. I’m tired. But making my brain shut down is almost impossible. So I’m up, watching the hobbit, and writing this post. Thinking how blessed I am to have someone like Marcus. He could have just left. He could have just let me do whatever I was going to do. But he stayed. And he talked to me. And he listened. And even now, he’s sleeping, but woke up to make sure I was OK. Told me to wake him up if I needed anything. He doesn’t want me to be alone.

There’s still the fear that he’s going to leave. But after this episode, he could have walked out. But he’s still here. And so am I. I might be a little bruised in the morning, but I’m alive. And we’re going to pick up my meds first thing in the morning – the pharmacy was closed by the time we got back into town.

I’ll be OK. And even when I’m not, I have support.

Find a support team. Make one. Take your meds! It could save your life.

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About Preslee

I am diagnosed with Bipolar 2 Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Panic and Anxiety disorders, and PTSD. I write about my own personal experiences and thoughts.

Posted on January 30, 2016, in Life, Mental Health, Support and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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