Madness

When does quirkily mentally ill turn into madness?

Somewhere around where I am now.

My thoughts are flying. They are coming so fast, so many at a time, and so loudly (but not as voices), that I can’t keep up with them. It’s just kind of this blurry swirling tornado of thoughts that keep bombarding me. I am almost undone by it.

Blasting loud music kind of keeps it at bay a bit, the art helps, but nothing is really providing much relief.

Sleep is getting harder and harder to come by. Last night was less than 4 hours and I am not even tired.

Now the mild paranoia is starting. I’m also starting to see shadows out of the corners my eye.

Unfortunately, my current treatment team has not seen me like this before so they don’t know that this can happen to me. It’s a rare event. I haven’t been this bad in several years. I feel very much like they are seeing a picture that is not complete. I’m not sure I can complete it either.

So I guess we just see where this goes. I am really hoping the new med catches up with this before I lose my mind for real. I feel like I am slipping. It’s terrifying to watch yourself losing grip on reality and not be able to control it. I know there is nothing in the shadows. I still feel very much like there is. I know no one is hiding in the backseat of my car. I still had to check twice to make sure on my way home tonight.

I hate the madness.

3 thoughts on “Madness

  1. Reblogged this on This Girl's Got Curves and commented:

    This post is from early June. I think it’s telling how far I’ve come in just six months. This summer was terrifying, and it’s humbling to know that this illness can take me back at any time, but it’s also empowering to know that I have new skills and tools to deal with recovering from this place if it ever happens again. I am not making a “resolution “ this year in the way that most people do. I am not resolving to lose weight or spend less money on frivolous things, (both worthy goals), but instead I am just going to work on continuing on my path towards recovery. As dirty and bumpy and hard as that can be, I can taste it and I want it for myself. Some version of “better.” Some life that I own instead of my illness owning me. That’s what I want in the new year. One step closer to that.

    Like

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