Tumbling Down

Its starting not to matter anymore, the rules. If I had a gun I would put it to my mouth right now and pull the trigger, even though my family would find me, even though it would create an image they could never ever erase from their minds. I’d apologise but I’d do it anyway.

There are no un-locked up pills in the house, nothing that’s fast enough. I want to try and last until tomorrow so they don’t have to clean up the mess, I would rather wait until Friday, after Samuels birthday. Try and ease a little bit of the burden but the more I breathe, the less I care.

I am not ‘me’ anymore, well not ‘her’ I suppose and I can’t keep trying to live her life, it’s not even my life and I can’t keep trying to fake it – it isn’t real, it’s a fucking lie existing in a pretend world. It feels like it’s all a test for a course I didn’t enrol in, and I know now why it hasn’t been the same since, I know now that she died that day and the memories were told to me, given to me to uphold by me if she left, but I don’t actually have her memories, I only have her stories inside a mind confused by the attempt of two people, one who is no longer alive, to share the real estate when they had separate lives and separate fates.

That is why the playground is nothing but schematics and fluttering litter, I was never even there, I’m just along for the ride and she’s the fucking quitter so stop blaming me. It was her – she lied, lied to you and me and everyone else to, her choice became yours, became mine and I hate her for it, why did she mess it up and drag me down with her before she did a runner and left me holding the shit in a body I don’t want and in a life that doesn’t fit.

Me? Who the fuck am I anyway? I’m just the observer so give me a fucking break, I was supposed to go with her but something went wrong and she fucked up the order, now please just let me out now I need to be free from the hoarder of all this pain and illusion before the shrinks and the doctors hold me down and diagnose a delusion where there isn’t one anymore.

Prove that the unreal is real, tell me how, go on tell me what to say, tell me what to scream, tell me now! But you can’t cause you don’t know either, guess I’ll have to tell you what you want to hear just to please you so you don’t lock me up wave goodbye and throw away the key.  

Her? The girl you knew, the one you had before, she was the driver, she had the memories and the choices easy and hard- which she made, she took them with her to the grave. Now take the time to yell at her like I do, or mourn for her as you will too but she’s already gone she made her choice and its fruitless to argue, but say what you want, tell her how much you really hate her, it doesn’t matter she can’t hear you.

I don’t have the knowledge or the will to drive the way she did, it wasn’t what I signed up for this time round and I’m fucking trapped on the shelf in a glass jar and I can’t get off the lid.

Catch Up

 I have been through a lot in the last few months and some of my thoughts and so forth were documented over the time but they are fairly scattered, so I am doing my best to write down what happened in the order it happened and eventually get back to writing in the present tense!
I will let you know that today, I am in a better frame of mind.

Friday Five: Fucked-up-ed-ness

You know your fucked up when....

1. You spend the morning sorting out your pre written suicide notes to see which one fits best this week.

2. You put 5 days worth of your pills into a pile, take a photograph and cry about having to take meds every day while simultaneously searching for your dope stash and swigging from a wine bottle.


3. You wake up in the morning and decide to take a shower. The reason this is fucked up is because you are planning to burn yourself and you know that the hot shower will sting it more, even though you know that you deserve that pain anyway.

4. You drop the kids at school early and spend the next hour pacing past the club waiting for it to open so that you can blow all your money on the pokies.

5. You cant cope with eating something that is 100 calories during the day but you get home and binge yourself stupid on ice-cream and raisin bread.

Meds, Phone calls and other things I avoid.

I look down into my hand at the little pile of multi-coloured meds for the morning. Yes I started taking them again, only lasted a week because I am far more dependent than I realised and the withdrawals were becoming too obvious to hide.

The deep feelings of inadequacy this twice daily ritual encompasses are seemingly endless.

Today I finally googled the names of some psychologists that were recommended to me 6 months ago, unfortunately I am not the Queen and as my funeral would cost less than a visit to them that impracticality put me firmly back to square one.

 I then called the local mental health team to ask for a phone number for the psychologist that is covered by medicare. I need a referral from my GP then I can make an appointment.

GP is away until May. Might call back if I can be bothered seeing her - not much point once May hits, a little late anyway I reckon.

I have consolidated a folder containing PDF downloads and great resources for the family of suiciders … suicidees? Suicide victims, people who commit suicide… whadevva you want to call them I have a stockpile of info to validate their feelings and give them ideas of ways to cope.

I have been binging like a mother fucker and my fat is expanding daily. None of my clothes fit me and a very small part of me WANTS to go to hospital PURELY because I can't binge there.

I’m going to go smoke a joint and go back to bed now. Not just because I am depressed but also because I have a killer sinus infection and my whole face hurts.

I did something naughty...

 I stopped taking my meds.

The Lamictal, Lithium and Seroquel combination. Stopped the lot of them, cold turkey.

After some killer withdrawals for approximately 48hrs I am feeling more clear headed than I have in I can't remember how long! I actually feel like a person, heck I can FEEL - I have been numb as hell for so long I forgot what it feels like to be human. - I LIKE feeling human!

That being said I only got 4hrs sleep last night and its currently 2:44am and I am not even remotely tired that coupled with some other mild hypomanic symptoms that I have been having over the last week or so, it is possible that I am heading up.

I think that feeling like I was going up is part of the reason I have now stopped the meds, I really NEED to go up and don't want it jeopardized the suicidal zombie self was getting old and I cant live like that for much longer.

I am pretty much thinking that even if this isn't simply a lovely hypo productive plateau and if this does tailspin into a full blown manic episode in a few weeks time, its fucking worth it, heck what have I got to lose?

Best that will happen is they are all wrong, it's not bipolar and I will be fine and dandy and never have another episode anyway.
Worst that will happen is I go nuts, they lock me up and medicate me back to zombie- again.
Nothing lost, just a chance of normalcy for a while or more or at least a little fun along the way.
I hate being controlled by doctors, meds, people in general!

Nope, screw everyone its ME TIME!

Summer Car

I like sitting in the car in the middle of summer, It’s nice to be alone in my own space. A place I can cry without being seen, it’s like I have my own invisible force field protecting me. There is also something really comforting about the heat, it’s like a warm if not slightly sufforcating hug.

Perhaps it’s in the knowledge that if I sat here long enough the heat could swallow me up forever.

 

Two days, two moods, two options, too hard to choose.

I wish I could drag a blade across my flesh and watch the blood run down my arm. Let all the sins and sadness seep slowly from my wrists and pool upon the floor.

Forbidden wishes are usually only denied because they frighten the naive – similar to people who were enslaved because they were not understood, I wont be held against my will so I am instead chained within my own shell. Please release me, set me free.

Be careful what you wish for...

I like to think that im not generally a violent person.

Well not towards others anyway.

There are very few people in this world that I have truly wished bodily harm upon – in fact there is pretty much only one. One person whom I honestly have contemplated taking a hit out on, lucky for the person in question I have never had the money or the means to do more that wish him harm with all my might.

This morning I got a text message informing me that he was in ICU in hospital on life support. I had this immediate rush of emotions that made me shiver deep into my core. It had actually happened.

I suddenly felt guilty for feeling so deeply… well I don’t even know… maybe a combination of extatic joy, excitement, disbelief and sudden sadness for the 11yr old daughter he has caused so much emotional pain to – she was already feeling guilty and conflicted about her increasing dislike of her own dad as she had grown older she was becoming more aware of the narcissistic games he would play against her mother hurting his own child along the way, her emotions just collateral damage.

I wondered what she was making of it, I worried that she would be blaming herself in the way an 11yr old will when something bad happens to someone they hate. She, such an emotional child already, so very at risk for developing long term psychological scars, she the talented young lady I had watched grow from a newborn baby into an independent thinking intelligent young women.

I hate to see her hurting, I am fiercely proud of her accomplishments as though she was my own child. I think of her like a neice and her mother, my best friend, like a sister.

I still sit here typing, despite the guilt I am still so desperately hoping that he never regains consciousness. I don’t wish him any pain, despite the amount he has caused others, but just to gently slip away to a place where he can no longer hurt anyone, I think particularly his younger daughter who has not yet reached an age where she can be permanently affected by him – While I know she will be saddened forever to not know her dad, the loss of a parent is a terrible cross to bear. But the reality is that she is the winner in all of this, only remembering her father through photographs and the kind words of strangers – after all, nobody speaks ill of the dead.

Beginnings, Endings and the Beginning of the End

I wander around the world now as a vague reflection of my former self. I know what my ideals were, I understand their importance and while I still regret nothing, I also feel nothing.

The drugs they gave me to cease my bodies natural ebb and flow have now rendered me numb. Apparently this is the perfect place to be, ‘normal’ or so they say.

I couldn’t imagine always wanting to live a ‘normal’ life, void of divine spirituality and completed sense of self. Never experiencing the intensity of pure fun, joy and excitement mixed with the energy of a thousand four year olds.

Nor however, could I believe in a world without the extreme sense of despair and hopelessness that comes from unchangeable circumstances or being racked with guilt over something real or perceived or often, no reason at all other than to remind you to appreciate the times of experiencing vivid life and self-awareness.

One thing I have been thankful for not experiencing was the ‘voices’ so many people speak of intruding into their minds and scaring them into psychosis.

At least I thought that I hadn’t, until I stopped taking the antipsychotic they put me on. Suddenly I have music playing around me, as though a string quartet or an orchestra is warming up or playing in the distance, it’s faint and somewhat beautiful, but it’s there, where it wasn’t before.

I also hear a voice coming back, an intrusive voice that I had always attributed to a pattern of self-thought and not an entity of its own – the voice from my eating disorder, the one that keeps me in line, that reminds me of my youth in an encouraging, scornful and often violent manner.

I had barely noticed it had gone missing recently– too much other stuff going on, but God, the binging. The binging that has reached critical levels – levels I may never be able to return from. I was inadvertently watching myself from the outside and wondering how the fuck I was letting this happen, the auto pilot on button stuck like glue.

The dirty little secret is that I want this voice to come back. I need it to come back. I must be held accountable for my actions and this is the only way I think it will be possible. I need to look upon the criticism and judgement as constructive, a challenge and a God to be obeyed at all costs. The depression that comes from living with the voice is nothing compared to the dire pit of hell that stem from the consequences of a world of silence and dirty normality.

I would rather let the voice take me over and let my new found lack of fear be my final undoing. Since the overdose I no longer feel frightened of pain or death at all. Not even a tiny twinge of concern or fear of future regret. I think that after taking the pills and feeling completely at peace with it even several hours later reassured me that it was the right course of action, I chose my fete and now I am but a mere ghost caught between worlds but able to interact, just waiting for my time to come so I can move on to where I am supposed to be.

The trouble is I am impatient, I don’t like waiting and I don’t want to wait now. I wonder if patience could in fact my life lesson this time around. God knows I breezed through the usual trials and tribulations that one must master so quickly that I must have learned them before. I completed what I came to do but if that is in fact my life lesson (and possibly acceptance – which I have for almost everything) I must learn it and not end my human existence by my own hand or I will simply have to do it all over again. I just want to move on, I am READY to move on.

The School Of Life

We all spend hours, days sometimes weeks pondering the meaning of life, finding the point of it all, I mean surely there is a point to it all, right? The trouble is while we look for the meaning of life we are constantly focusing on all the negative aspects such as Aunt Joan died of cancer, why? What was God/Allah/Buddah’s plan? When we focus on the worst parts we are turning a blind eye to the many good things that occurred before this event. One might say that so many people were devastated by Aunt Joans death that the funeral was packed – rather than thinking how wonderful it was to have an opportunity to share a part of their life with a wonderful person like Joan who had clearly touched so many peoples lives.

The meaning of life isn’t about the great plan from a higher being, it is actually very simple:

It is to simply live. No different to the ants or the sunflowers we are here to live, just that we as humans are lucky enough to have free will over our decisions and surroundings, intelligent enough to influence the world around us and emotional enough to love, laugh and cry.

That thing you are doing when you are not asking ‘why?’ the thing you do unconsciously every day. That, is living and that IS the point to it all. When you are looking at the negatives, you are blinding yourself to the reality of what you have, the positives that are all around you and the lessons you are able to learn and the fun to be had in Earths playground it is the school of life.

You only get one shot at this life, make the most of it until your lessons are learned, then retire to pasture or wave farewell with dignity.

They look at me...

They look at me, judgingly and then they ask "why?" What the hell is so wrong with your world? And it’s a hard question to answer, well perhaps it’s actually very easy to answer – There is nothing wrong with my world. Its picture perfect actually, the only thing that is wrong, is, well me.

You see the thing is that I have become a ghost, just a ghost that everybody sees… and I cant go on haunting myself forever – and I will, because I am the unintended master of self sabotage.

My head is fuzzy from the exhaustion of living, eyes too heavy to lift. The drugs only a mast to the outside world so perfectly fake that although I know the watchers are always watching, nobody really sees what is hidden beneath.

If I could have convinced myself, things may have changed but now my workds are the only relics left from the invisible demons of my mind. Demons so consuming and buried so deep within that nobody could ever find them.

If you’ll excuse me know, I need to go and put some music on. These lyrics in my head are killing me even faster than before. Although, perhaps there is time for one last cup of tea before I lay back on the cool earth and let the sun go down around me. After all, the only real proof of life having even existed at all is in the memories of its time and the wallowing of its death.

Asking for help?

I made a decision today, a decision that scares the living fuck out of me. I wrote an email to my psychologist asking if I could come and see her again.

This scares me because it inadvertently means I am questioning myself, questioning the belief I have held deep to my core for well over a decade, questioning the date of my death. The date that when originally handed to me along with the vision of the future seemed so far away and so unlikely until time passed and visions came true, time and time again.

I’m not sure what I hope to achieve from this, perhaps the act of sending that email is far more telling and thought provoking than any session or the flow on effect from it could ever possibly be. The fear of being wrong about everything is far more frightening than being right.

My days are currently being spent simply trying to keep it together, most of my being thinking that this is a fruitless exercise and why drag it out and the other smaller part, some would say voice of reason saying , wait.. you have to do xyz first, reach your date and then you can do what ever you like.  I remember the guru telling me once right at the beginning, that when you make the decision to finally cut the shit and actually commit suicide that you should stop right before you do it and say, this is ok I have made my decision and I have every right to make this choice but first I need to wait until… tomorrow/3pm/after the 6’oClock news. Then if I still feel the same way I can go for it, no probs. – this tactic is very effective, as between then and the end of the 6 o’Clock news something has generally happened to distract you from the task at hand and death is no longer your top priority and you put if off as you want to do abc first.

I remember the day I took out life insurance, I felt this immense relief, the lack of it had held me back for so long, now I only had to wait another 13 months for the cooling off period and I could finally let go knowing my family would be able to pay off the house, I just wanted so badly for it to end right then and there, I couldn’t stop the pain, but now at least I had a plan.

13 months later? I I had stopped counting the months down at that point, I was happily in one of my manic phases and enjoying my god like zen’ness with the natural world as I stayed up for days on end designing my future magazine worthy garden that people would come from miles around to see featured in the Australian Open Garden Scheme and carted hundreds of dollars worth of potted colour home from Bunnings, potting mix spilled all through the boot. Of COURSE I could plant approx. 300 seedlings that afternoon before DH came home… - yeah suicide was no longer a priority of scattered thoughts.

From the moment I was ‘given’ – I hesitate to use that word- the date of my impending death, I think I have always known deep down that things would end at my own hand. The date has in many ways been the only thing that has kept me here for as long as I have been. It has been my ‘6 o’clock news’ and now its rapidly approaching I am in my current mind awash with relief. D day.

5 days ago I took my medications down from the cupboard and looked at the ½ full packet of Lithium I had previously used, then abused as a means of having an excuse to stop taking it. Why did I want to stop taking it? Frankly because I was afraid it might actually work, I didn’t want to get better – I wanted to die, I had a plan and I was scared the Lithium might change my mind.

I looked at this packet and made the decision to start taking it again, in my general non compliant fashion I began the pills and have not mentioned this to anybody. The Lithium was only really making me sick last time because I was purposely overdosing so my blood results would say my levels were toxic even at the low dose and the Drs would let me stop. Prior to my little decision to abuse it I had in fact had no ill effects at all. So I know that as long as I follow the proper dosage recommendation’s I won’t have a problem.

The reason behind my decision to take the Li again is that I want to prove to myself that it’s not just the uncontrolled bipolar that is making me want to die, and that even when medicated it is still a decision that I am making.

This email was so hard to write because I am still terrified that something/somebody will stop me, I don’t want to be stopped. That little voice quietly points out that ultimately it’s my decision but what do I have to lose by sticking around? If that really is the date of death then nothing I can do can stop it anyway. I suppose there is a reason that people aren’t supposed to know their expiry date, even when it’s a goal not a fear it becomes all consuming.

I do wonder if perhaps the toll that my eating disorder has put on my body perhaps it will simply be my heart that gives out and I won’t have to take that last breath as I close my eyes and lock the steering wheel to the left.

All I know for certain is what I have seen in the vision of my final moments. I see the poplars still stark naked, a few weeks away from new leaf. The sun is slowly setting and everything fades to black a force pushing my shoulders down, the world is black now but completely peaceful and I am aware of the feeling of sinking into the leather seat and the car pulling away to the left, and nothing more.

December 1984 – insert date here September 2014

Somebody please put “told ya I wouldn’t make 30” on my grave stone ;D

My final goal, is that I must achieve before D day is putting this and all my other incoherent ramblings together in some sort of order. No matter the outcome they will be a source of understanding to others or a means of reflection for myself should this not turn out the way it has been foretold.   

Dark Nights

The nights are getting darker, in a figurative sense. I close my eyes and see things I never used to see pictures of unfamiliar people and places, playing like slideshows in my mind have now given way to early motion picture style sequences of the same. Who are these people? Why do I know them?

I hold on to most of my guilt throughout the day and it comes exploding out into my mind when the house grows silent and I close my eyes, I come up with imaginative ways in which to punish myself and prevent the infinite loop that encircles my mind, I dream of being able to cut the excessive flesh from my body with a knife, burn welts into my skin – the physical pain a punishment and the scar to serve as a reminder of the regret that always comes later, every time I open my mouth.

 Like the depression that always follows the mania, food and guilt are entwined together and always will be, but there is no chemical compound to silence that incessant voice that chastises every worthless move you make. When it comes down to it I lie awake on these dark nights pondering, imagining and yet I always come to the same and correct conclusion; that there is always only one way to permanently end this cycle.

Limbo

So many hours are lost to this disease, the ‘unhelpful thinking’ patterns as the Guru puts it. It’s ridiculous when actually put into words or thought about in any logical way. But still it remains, every hour it creeps in, at some point a comment, something you see or hear that reminds you or god help it you catch your reflection or need to go to the bathroom.

Eating is the worst, it’s a constant battle of instinct vs mind. Your body takes over gorging everything in its path while all you can think is how worthless you are and how desperately you want it all to stop.

If I had a dollar for the amount of times I have glanced at that knife block while stuffing bread down my gob just longing to plunge it deep into my flesh or slice deep into my wrists. End the torture.

Silence. Inside, outside. Peace.

My husband walked in just as I typed that sentence and I slammed the computer down like a 14yr old girl hiding something from her parents. Now he’s upset because I wouldn’t tell him what I was doing, what I was hiding. Is it wrong that I would almost rather he thought I was having an affair than writing a diary like this? Honestly, I don’t know which one of those would hurt him more.

I hate myself every time I eat at the moment. The trouble for my messed up mind is that I am eating constantly and I cant stop. It’s too hard.

revival and resistance

Well I haven’t blogged for so long I have almost forgotten how to do it. So much has happened, so much has changed yet nothing at all is really different. I don’t know where to start, my life has done a full circle repeatedly over the last 18 months and yet I’m loathed to be back to the beginning again, phases – Always phases, I really should be used to it by now, a high wouldn’t go astray either.

I guess this is just another one of those rapid cycles. I can’t keep it up much longer, my pseudo life is starting to collapse – ironically it’s not the blogging one I think of as false, but the real one where I try and hide all of my sins and dirty secrets…

Speaking of secrets, forgive me bloggerverse for I have sinned.

 I stopped taking my meds cold turkey and lied about it.

I went to the shrink on a bit of a high ages ago now and promptly forgot everything she told me within 48hrs. It occurred to me just now that I have not filled in a single day of the mood chart that I forgot she gave me and my moods have been all over the place for a little while now too so I really should have filled it in, but I can’t even work out how long ago I should have started because my memory tends to fuck up when my mind goes…

 I also can’t remember when my next appointment with her is and I’ve miss placed the appointment card I was given. I would ring up and ask but her name escapes me as well and I really don’t care enough to bother trying. I wonder if I shouldn’t have taken myself off the meds after all, however the side effects are no longer something I am able to cope with and I have been off them too long to go back on them anyway. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

Not much point going to the shrink really anyway if I’m not going to take what she prescribes. It becomes an expensive and pointless visit. I do kind of miss seeing The Guru though, I call her my ‘rent a friend’ to her face and she laughs. She is a great wall to vent to with a few zen contributions where it counts. Unfortunately money issues and school holidays make it impossible to go to see her at the moment though – besides I would probably just end up dobbing myself in about the meds and I think she has to tattle tale on me in to the GP/P doc and that simply doesn’t work for me.

 Tomorrow marks day one of the end project. I am committed to this now. Temptations are inexcusable and willpower is the only answer. This is what needs to happen and I am the only one who can make it happen. This is the one chance I have to get something right and I will bloody succeed.

Still Alive, Still Crazy

Today… Still alive, slightly less foggy headed from the lithium OD, but still dizzy as hell, shaky sore eyes with trouble focusing but not quite as bad as yesterday, very strong pressure in my head that comes in waves – feels similar to ice-cream headache only you start blacking out. didn’t take Lithium again as I cant stand this feeling a moment longer

 I was triggered horribly by a fucking 13yr old. I tried on a pair of jeans that were a size 8 and while they went on, my big fat calves made the bootleg look like skinny leg, I already wanted to cry seeing my giant shape in multiple mirrors is confronting enough.

As I was getting dressed again I hear someone talking to a girl saying “ooh lets try the size 7s shall we?” and when I walked out I saw miss size 7, the jeans were way too baggy. I KNOW she was only 13 and I am a grown women nearly 30 FFS but still, I guess cause I’m a fruit loop it triggered the crap out of me, I want to be that small, I NEED to be that small. On my way out of the shopping centre all I saw was stick thin women with perfect legs and perfect hair and I just wanted to die.

Then I had to pick up like 4 things from the grocery store that weren’t for me, I had them in the basket in 5 min and proceeded to spend nearly 40 min doing the old pick up and put back things that I wanted to but could never eat. I hate being this ridiculous.

new job, old tricks

Start Job, End life

I need to die now. I am ready to go, its time. I had a great life and for that I am truly greatful, but I have now hit the point of no return. I am not willing to give up the demon that has reclaimed me, her voice is too strong.

Started my new job today, it sucks. The team leader is like a size 4 and drop dead gorgeous, I am so intensely jealous I cant function when she is in the room. My legs are unforgivable. She must not have eaten in years.

Today I fucked up, I narrowly avoided having lunch at the mall, got as far as the food court before having a panic attack and getting the hell out of there. I then ruined this COMPLETELY by having a 500kj boost juice after work. Instead of learning to throw it up like I should have I had 5 grapes and got home only to eat a vege meal of possibly up to 100 cal. I can’t believe what a loser I am. I have already gained weight from it, you could see in the mirror when I went on the cross trainer this evening, ass thighs and my size 8 jeans that fit yesterday are snug and downright tight on my calves.. Now its going to add an extra two days at least.

I have started Lithium in place of Sodium Valporate and it is making me feel awful, got a call from the dr 2 day re my lithium level bloods & other bloods.   enough Li levels r too high and my liver is mildly affected (yay! Now how to finish it off, or better yet, induce heart attack – quicker method. Have been downing V drinks like a madwomen for the heart and slipping in many Panadol as possible to quietly finish off the liver. What got me was that my cholesterol was really high!!!!!!!????? Im not complaining, its 1 more thing to add to the self destruct arsenal, although this fucks with my head majorly as I don’t understand –WHY? – I don’t really eat... – particularly saturated fats, god maybe thinking about eating those foods really can add calories… I guess this simply means that I need to reduce my food intake generally and stop thinking about all those fat causing artery clogging foods, as much as it would increase my heart attack risk, the chance of weight gain just isn’t worth it,

Must go to bed now, tired & dizzy. With a bit of luck lithium toxicity will set in and I wont wake up, otherwise I need to be ok at work tomoz as now that I am casual, sick pay doesn’t exist for me any more. Try and earn some more $ towards my funeral costs. I need to cut or burn to remind me that food is forbidden, then I can poke it everytime I think of eating as punishment.

A Somewhat Innappropriate Article

Forgive me if this is inappropriate but I am kinda manic right now and so I am going to post it anyway!

*Extra Trigger Warning*

This is hands down best anti suicide article ever written and it’s hilarious to boot. If it doesn’t change your plans at least you get to laugh once more before you go!

http://www.cracked.com/article_15658_the-ten-minute-suicide-guide.html

And yes, I do stupid shit like google suicide, even when I’m high as a kite and not feeling remotely suicidal. I do however challenge myself to re-read this article next time I am about to end it all, I have a feeling it might just be enough to stop me…

Organisation

Organisation is currently, the hardest part of this whole mentally unstable suicidally minded thing,

I have been a compulsive list writer for as long as I can remember, many a list of all the ‘brilliant’ ideas and plans and to do’s and how to’s has been cultivated via the unable to sleep must write this down RIGHT NOW in list format in the wee hours of the morning.

Now though, I have So much to organise, So. Very. Much. I am just so tired that I simply can’t be bothered to sort out anything at all. Part of me just doesn’t care anymore, I figure I still have the best part of a year, and knowing how this goes I will have boundless energy again at some point, I just don’t know if when that energy strikes that I will be able to focus to the task or I will be designing that laser tag course again.

Pah! Laser tag, I was hell bent on that. God I’m stupid. I can’t believe TBH still has the patience to listen to my crap and smile, nod and gently re direct me again, since the poor guy has to do it continuously.

Speaking of staying focused.  Must prioritise and organise the important things first, insurance for example, sort out paperwork into a filing system that actually makes sense to other people so they can find stuff. Gotta make sure kid 4 can read, I don’t trust the school and once she starts the boys will be able to help her. So many letters to write. Names, address’s, phone numbers to consolidate – Christmas card lists to make, at least there will be 12mnths for them to figure out Christmas the next year, should be right by then. Teaching someone to give a damn about the garden, worked hard on that and would like it to go on after me. A really big one is sorting out the post timing for 365, that’s critical to the plan.  

So much to do, too overwhelming. Kids occupied with technology, Nap time for me. Bye now.

Tell Me

Tell me to stand upon the mountain high, lean out and breathe in the air of freedom.

See the world around me, Taste the coolness of the air, Hear the sounds of life occurring.

Sing the music of my heart and Feel the essence of natures touch upon my body letting it seep back deep into the pours of my soul as I become one with the world again.

You must embrace the magic of the journey, be mindful and remember to dream.

But it’s time for me to say goodbye for now, time to fly away home.

xx

On Hallucinations (and not having them)

 

"So Bel, have you had hallucinations?" "No Dr, I have never had them, except one time when I was a kid and had a bad fever...."

She said.

So turns out I may have been wrong about that after all- I have done some reading after stumbling upon something in a you tube clip and apparently standard hallucinations are a little less severe than I thought they were…. I watched a beautiful mind once upon a time so there for I sort of assumed that when ppl said they have hallucinations they were seeing complete people / objects etc talking and walking like the furniture in beauty and the beast….

According to the literature hallucinations can be shadows and dream like imaginings crossing into reality while awake type stuff – erm, I do actually get that. And I get it quite a lot... Usually when I’m fairly hypomanic. It’s particularly bad (and a pain in the neck) when I’m driving as I keep thinking that the shadowy things are are Kangaroos etc beside me about to dart out in front of the car, (let me add that that’s quite realistic where I live) it can be a bit of a problem really because I tend to drive a little over the recommended speed when high so swerving imaginary wildlife isn’t practical.

Now while I was aware these little migraine-like flashes /shadowy things weren’t real I assumed that it was either A speeding related phenomenon or my eyes were just playing up because my body was tireder than my mind (I also tend to not sleep for several days when ‘up’) and had considered seeing an optometrist in case I needed glasses for driving.

As for the dream like imaginings kinda like a little scene playing out in my peripheral usually with mild audio should I care to listen – which I don’t –  you know when you first wake up in the morning and someone is talking to you but your still kinda dreaming? Yeah that. Thankfully this is less common and generally more annoying than anything else, unless I’m mega hypo and then they blur into reality a little too much and it can be hard to judge wtf is real or not. Now I’m wondering if these are actually visual hallucinations…??? God I hope not, that’s weird. I have had a few experiences which may have been hallucinations where I have seen cars plain as day and then they have miraculously disappeared into nowhere and I hate to admit that on one occasion driving to work while reasonably hypomanic I saw two such ‘ghost cars’.

 The first car looked like an unmarked police car (commodore, thick antenna… Aussies you all know what I mean) and I was mildly paranoid that it was tailing me as someone may have dobbed me in for my rather persistent and reckless speeding along that stretch of road, and by mildly I mean thought crossed my mind stayed there for a while and resulted in my working out a getaway plan… then the car disappeared into nothing on a country road with nowhere to turn off.

This experience freaked me out a bit and then closer to town there was a marked cop car doing a speed check on the other side of a straight stretch of road – as I passed I saw it pull out in my rear view mirror and pull a u turn behind me, I was thinking “shit I’m sure I’m not speeding”, looked at the speedo (not speeding) looked in the mirror again and the car had vanished – again nowhere to turn off. That freaked me out a fair bit as I thought that’s two things that I thought I saw, how much of what I am seeing now is real and how much isn’t? It all looks real, but then so did the cop car…

Ok. That sounds WAY crazier when I write it down. Hmm. BUT in my defence when the car ‘vanished’ I was aware that I must have imagined it (so that makes it NOT a delusion. Right?)  In the end due to *hallucinational content I put it down to some sort of subconscious guilt about speeding.

So, I guess there appear to be a few things about me I thought were totally normal/ marginally quirky that don’t actually happen to everyone else and I’m finding it a wee bit disconcerting and am very glad I didn’t TELL anyone about it.

*MS Word claims “hallucinational” isn’t a word, but I think it should be, particularly in this context, it just works.