My own special kind of crazy

Back from residential treatment program. I survived it. Some random crazy person showed up on the VA campus with a gun and tried to kidnap my room mate. I threw stress balls at my therapist. I taught the basics of watercolors during recreational therapy.

Therapist had me try to start doing Prolonged Exposure Therapy, the kind where I write in graphic and excruciating detail about the rapes. Didn't work out so well. I wasn't able to finish that treatment and I'm still suffering from the backlash of the extreme stress that put on me emotionally.

I'm tired. Other events that are happening make me feel like my life is cascading out of control. I tend to start crying for no reason and then am unable to stop. I don't sleep when I'm supposed to, I stay awake as long as I can and then I crash hard and fast.

I physically hurt from the constant tension and anxiety that I'm under. My shoulders and neck and jaw tighten up so badly that I'm like a giant bruise.

The value of escapism can not be overstated here.

I don't want to!

I'm in full on rebellion right now. I didn't get out of bed yesterday. I don't want to get out of bed today. I'm supposed to be packing to go to the PTSD residential treatment program. I don't want to go. I have mentally thrown myself on the ground and am kicking and screaming, like a badly behaved toddler at a grocery store.

I know it's childish. I don't care. I'm terrified.

Fragile truce

I have managed to find a little mellow for the moment. Learning to play the guitar, and I find that mindless repetitive fingering exercises are calming.

I'm not thinking about tomorrow, because today is more than enough. I'm going to hold on to this tenuous peace for as long as it lasts.

I've been relying heavily on my medication to manage break through anxiety. It's been really tough. It's like unravelling at the edges.

While I appreciate words of encouragement and support, I would caution readers not to expect much by way of a response from me. When I write here, it is usually because I am going through extreme emotional turmoil. I write this for me first, to help me sort through the kaleidoscope of trauma that I deal with on a daily basis.

Long night

Can't sleep. Crying myself sick all night. I feel like I'm stuck in a situation I can't get out of. Therapy and medication is like slapping a band aid on a broken leg. I need a more permanent solution. Like maybe a lobotomy?

I want to run away to somewhere they don't speak English so I can be truly and deeply alone, because being around people and still being alone is fucking depressing. I'm angry depressed tonight.

I took my calm down medication like a good little soldier, but I'm still all twisted tonight. I don't think I'm going to get any really productive thinking done tonight either.

Patently obvious cry for attention...

Let me count the crazy....shaved part of my head. Didn't do it myself, went to a salon so I could pretend it wasn't a desperate cry for help. Beat the crap out of my punching bag (literal punching bag), and it kept me from crying but now my knuckles are bloody. Small price to pay really.

Having all sorts of crazy and scary thoughts, don't worry, there's no need to call 911.

-I'm losing valuable time experiencing all the things I always wanted to experience, because I'm trapped in agoraphobic hell. When do I get to do, what I want to do?

I don't want to take medication anymore! Like right now! I should be taking a calm down pill and practicing breathing and instead I'm mid panic attack ranting on my blog. Oh shit, I've obviously died and gone to hell and become a teenager again, because that is some stupid rebellious bullshit. Please, let me defy all common sense while shaking my fist futilely at the sky! I don't want to have PTSD, AGORAPHOBIA, PANIC DISORDER, CHRONIC DEPRESSIVE DISORDER, INSOMNIA, AND ALL THE REST OF THIS SHIT ANYMORE! I don't want it, can it please be someone else's turn for a little while?

Miserable

Don't want to sleep. Don't want more nightmares. I'm so tired I'm forgetting to take medication. Went into antidepressant withdrawal today. So I'm exhausted and I feel very sick. Not very verbose tonight, just miserable.

Giant plastic bubbles of crazy.

Just coming off of four days of living in the giant plastic bubble of depression. Tolkien scale epic family drama. Very uncool. I thought I was going to lose my shit completely.

Interestingly enough, I don't quite have that whole "sanctuary" feeling about the new house, so when I had a panic attack in a public place, I attempted to hide in a bookstore. Luckily, I have the greatest boyfriend in the whole world and he came riding to my rescue in his shining Mazda 3.

So, when I refuse to just cry it out, which is pretty much every time I have the urge to cry, I get migraines. So four days of migraines inside my giant plastic bubble of depression. I have issues with allowing myself to be vulnerable. I'm kind of a control freak about not letting my guard down. Obviously, this is not a sustainable solution, but for now, it's the best I can do.

I don't mean to brag, but my family is so dysfunctional that we could supply six simultaneous reality shows worth of drama with enough left over for a few acerbic sitcoms. Gotta love 'em. I'm just going to do what my dog does, and cock my head to the side and pretend to listen. I'm trying hard not to view this is as further isolation, because that wouldn't be productive. Instead, I'm going to view this is an extension of my vastly under-appreciated sense of humor.

Oh, so the giant plastic bubble of depression is the way I picture it when I get so overwhelmed with negative emotions that outside stimulus stops sinking in. Everything just starts bouncing off of my bubble like it's a force field. I guess that would make it a defense mechanism. I can make an additional internal giant plastic bubble of escapism, that will provide some insulation from negative internal stimulus, like depression or anxiety, which I have also occupied over the last four days. This one takes a lot of work to maintain though. I spent the last four days reading trashy romance novels to generate the necessary distraction for my giant plastic bubble of escapism. Basically, I've worked really hard to be blank.

I wasn't ready to deal with the situation. My brain was like "Screw you fuckers, I'm out!" I planted my ass on the couch, with my books, and basically did not move for days. Didn't get much sleep, didn't care what I ate. Nothing.

Today I finally sat and thought about the situation, and it was much easier to cope with after some time and distance. What you can't see, is that I'm tearing up right a little bit even just tap dancing around this subject.