I lost it. I screamed. My throat still hurts. That was last night. I yelled at the person who is there for me the most. Feel ashamed. Worried the neighbors heard me. Guilty. So angry right now. I have interviewed for so many jobs I have lost count. Told I’m great, but they are going in another direction. Bad luck? I feel defeated. I am so mad at the world. Why does it have to be so damn hard? I just want a new job. Shouldn’t be so difficult. Makes me feel like a loser. The truth is I am happy with all of the other parts of my life. It’s just this damn job business. I actually don’t want a job at all. Wish I could find something I enjoyed doing that I could get paid for. Hate this 9-5 bullshit. How to escape. Must devise a plan….
A year I’ll forever hold dear. 2014. It was my shot at rebuilding my life following my psychosis/spiritual awakening/breakdown and subsequent confusion and loss of 2013. I had just started a new job and was ready to take on the world – but I was so lost. I was still taking heavy drugs – lithium, and Zyprexa. I was still unsure how to frame my experience and I was desperately trying to make sense of my experience. One day at a time. I left one therapist. I left my psychiatrist. In the spring I met a new psychiatrist and started with a new therapist. I struggled with my thoughts and felt misunderstood by my husband. I considered divorce in April, but decided to stay. In May my life changed drastically. I reached out to what seemed to be a beautiful soul in serious pain that I saw commenting on a few blogs I followed. I offered for him to email me as he seemed so alone and in need of a friend. What happened in the weeks following those emails is still hard for me to wrap my head around. One day he asked if I could call and talk to him. I said no, as my husband disapproved, but a day or two later I recanted and said we could talk – despite my husband’s wishes. On the other end of the phone was this adorable voice – younger sounding than I had imagined and with a southern accent I couldn’t get out of my mind. We began emailing all day long. I would read his words like I was in a movie – saying them aloud in my head in that accent I had become familiar with. We would plan phone calls and I would be terribly nervous waiting for the phone to ring. I would act so quiet and coy on the phone. Sighing. Breathing. Less than 3 weeks after that first email I realized I was madly in love with this stranger and I decided it was time to leave my husband. On May 24th I told my husband I was leaving. A few days later I saw my new love for the first time on Skype – hard to believe I hadn’t even seen this new man, but I knew he was the love of my life. The first time I saw his mannerisms and his facial expressions in real time I fell even more in love. I was elated. At the end of June he came to visit for a week or so and it was magical. July 19th he moved to Colorado and we began our life together. It’s a beautiful life. Perfectly imperfect. Filled with tears and laughter. Love and frustration. We’re making it work one day at a time and figuring out this big bad world together. I’m ending the year on a high note. I’m not on medication anymore and I am out of therapy. I feel good. I’m on the cusp of landing a new job and I’m madly in love, more so than ever. I did not know I was capable of so much love and it feels amazing. I’m looking forward to the days and years ahead. Goodbye 2014. You have changed me.
Question everything. Labels useless. Anger. Sadness. Madness. I still surround myself with reminders of my mental health status in spring 2013. I volunteer at a mental health housing facility. Today I had to complete some training and there was information about involuntary holds and mandatory medications. It almost made me cry reading the words on the screen. I remembered my forced hospitalization. I remembered the hospital staff drugging me – injecting mind altering drugs into my ass. It hurt. I cried and screamed. I remember being drug off a toilet midstream and being taken to the bed and held down while someone stuck a needle in my ass. Humiliating. Degrading. And somehow – totally legal in 2013. This happened in Boulder, of all places. So much for patient rights and a progressive society. I know something wasn’t right with me – but my god – there has to be a better way to treat people. It’s hard for me to comprehend what my life was less than two years ago. Today I sit in a cubicle at a fairly respectable job I hate. I make $70k a year. I’m interviewing for jobs that pay $80k a year. I’m interviewing at “good jobs” in fancy offices. I’m educated, smart, and for the most part – well spoken. Most people would never guess I spent a month in a mental hospital, crying and screaming with drool running down my face. Running the halls naked and threatening to kill police. I was diagnosed as bipolar, but I can’t accept that. I tried to play along for a while and learn what I could, but it just doesn’t fit. I don’t take any medication these days, and I’m perfectly fine. If I did what I was told and what was recommended I would probably be a fat zombie by now. I probably wouldn’t have a full time job and I’d be depressed by the weight gain and foggy thoughts the medication causes. I’m becoming more and more skeptical of mental health diagnosis criteria and the drugs they force upon us. Do they really help? Do they cause more harm than good? I’m not sure – but I know for me, drugs were not the answer. I had an experience – marijuana induced psychosis and mania. It’s gone now and I don’t need drugs to keep it in check. I am just me. Drug fee.