How do you explain to someone that you don’t want to get better? Yes, I’m about as mental as one can be. But, it is my comfort zone; it is what I know best. I know how to operate under this cover of darkness. Oh, sure, you must be thinking, why would someone choose to struggle with being suicidal so many nights a week? I do not know what normal is. I do not remember what being happy feels like. Was I ever happy—ever? Even when I was somewhat balanced while on my meds before I quit taking them, all I remember at best was being numb. At least when I am manic, I feel energetic; I feel as if I can do anything. Now, all I experience is the crushing defeat of morbid depression. Even after three weeks, the meds haven’t kicked in at all. My doctor keeps upping a dosage of one and waits a while, then he’ll add to the cocktail (he is rather conservative about how many types of changes he makes at one time). Either way, I don’t feel any different.
I am supposed to try to add yet another med tonight as a temporary measure to break my cycle of persistent insomnia. He wants me to take 10mg of Zyprexa an hour before I take the rest of my bedtime meds, and if I am not asleep in an hour, to take another 10mg. Then I have to do another phone call check-in with him again tomorrow (the addition of Zyprexa was the topic of our phone check-in today). He already knows how I feel about Zyprexa; it became a deal-breaker for me when I discovered what a weight gainer this drug was. Not trying to be recalcitrant, I argued with him since he already knew how I felt about this drug, but he said he only wanted me to try it for one week to see if it would break my insomnia and give sleep a chance. I agreed to take it temporarily. We’ll see what happens tonight. (Now Frank is singing “It Was a Very Good Year.” I wish I could say the same).
(later) I decided that I had to leave the house. The walls were closing in on me. I already know where that will take me. The weather is perfect outside. I decided to grab my atlas and don my new toys and go for a walk. I decided to go up to the corner Starbucks (yeah, I remembered to opt for decaffeinated). That meant I had to deal with people. I had no idea how many there would be. However, the evening was too nice not to go out. I was too exhausted to go for a power walk; there is no apparent rage seething within me at the moment—a welcome change. Just a short walk up to the corner to get some fresh air was perfect.
Starbucks just had two customers that were engrossed with each other, tucked away in the corner. I doubt they even noticed me. I got to the counter and looked up to the menu. There were so many choices. The cashier was waiting for me to place my order. I couldn’t make up my mind. I froze as she just stared at me and asked, “What I get for you?” a second time. Finally, I made my choice and just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. Once I hit the door and the cool night breezes swept my face, I felt I could finally breathe. It was good to know I still had my bearings. I promptly left the parking lot and headed home.©2009