This week! I’ve been lost! I’m all over the place! I forget everything! Why?? There hasn’t been stress! But my head is on fire, it’s like I’m full of electricity and need to discharge! Everything is so bright. Colors are brighter and I can’t stop staring because everything is beautiful. And I hear symphonies and choirs in my head (mental) and can’t get away from these vivid mental images of other places. I need to come back to here but I panic because I feel so weird here.
And I keep thinking of things that upset and worry me. I’m not evil. I’m good. I know I’m good and I’m here for a good reason. Ack I’m so scattered!
I’m not tripping is the thing. But ALL of my psychotic things are EXACTLY like I’m on some kind of drug, right down to the hallucinations. But I’ve never taken any kind of recreational/trippy drug ever. So it makes no sense. Anyways I’ve calmed down a bit now because I had class but I’m still pretty antsy. Geez! I just want to be normal for longer than a week. If I could just get one normal week in I would be totally content.
I’m not on any kind of mental medication either, in case you were wondering. I meet with a psychiatrist next week.
It’s not that I can’t handle it, it’s just so weird I can’t get over it. Is it really mania? What the heck? It’s really exciting and interesting but the disorientation is awful. I hit myself in the arm because I couldn’t feel my body, it felt like I was bleeding into everything. 30 seconds later I was wondering why my arm was throbbing. Then I remembered I had done it. I walked away and left my phone and id in the restroom. Went back for them after, thankfully they weren’t stolen. I also left the door to the lab I work in open, which is a big no-no I haven’t done before but I just didn’t remember. I also didn’t remember to sign in.
It’s so frustrating. I’m constantly picking up after myself.
I’ve never been diagnosed with anything. For the first 15 years of my life I just thought the weirdness was my life. Then a friend finally helped me open my eyes and realize I should probably get help. But then I was horrified and embarrassed that I was “crazy.” It was this big heavy secret I had now. When I became suicidal I finally sought out help for my anxiety but never mentioned any of my psychotic symptoms. I spoke to the school counselor because my mom wouldn’t let me see an actual therapist due to fear of me being labeled or put on medication. (My family is very anti-psychiatry)
Then I went to college and took matters into my own hands. I saw a therapist for my anxiety. Some things were useful, but generally it wasn’t, and a large part why was because again I was too self-conscious to talk about the weirder things I went through. In person, I seem normal. People don’t expect me to be experiencing these kinds of things. It upsets and confuses. Plus I didn’t want to suck anyone else into this weird other world I coexist in.
Now I’m finally seeing a therapist about my psychotic issues but, again, since I seem like such a well-put together person with great social skills she’s very confused. Half the stuff I talk about she doesn’t even understand. Sometimes I feel like she thinks I’m faking.
The thing is, talking with people and interacting with people brings me back to reality and serves as an anchor for me. So other people are NEVER going to see me at my worst, because with people I’m always at my best, if that makes sense.
It’s when I’m alone with my head that I need help.
Sorry that was so long and drawn out. This whole semester of college I’ve been in this kind of weird hellish limbo, flip-flopping between the tripped-out state I’m in now and that awful, agonizing anxiety. I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like there’s no help for me.