So, I know that I posted something [insert link here to post from last month that I can't link to because my system keeps crashing - you can go find it if you really care] about our living situation and how life in general is just the worst it could ever possibly be, blah blah negativity, blah blah bad coping skills, yada yada I hate everything. Remember that?
I think I may have finally snapped. I've reached the point where I contemplate things that are very, very bad. I can see no hope, ever. I am very, very angry (angry is the only alternative to sad). I take out my anger on those I love. I am one scary bitch sometimes. My in-laws think I'm certifiable. My husband is worried. My mother is worried. My children are terrified.
I'm actually thinking about giving my other meds another try (the ones that made me so groggy that I was still tired and therefore intensely angry the next morning). That's how desperate I am to make this stop. I can't control this on my own, through sheer force of mind. I've tried. My willpower is no match for chemistry. I've tried to think positive. Really I have. It's not working. All I want to do is scream, or cry, or throw things, or hit someone. Everything makes me angry. I'm so worried, and scared, and I have all of these terrible thoughts that I can't stop from coming into my head. I have thought, and said, and done things that I can't even post on the Internet. And I'm anonymous, here. So, technically, I *could* post them here, but I'm too ashamed to do it. It's that bad.
At the same time, I'm strangely detached. I can see, as if from a distance, some harried looking woman screaming at my children. She honks and screams at strangers on the road when they don't drive to suit her. This lady makes rude comments to people who care about her. And all the time, *I* am sitting over here thinking, "who is this crazy lady? why doesn't someone lock her up? or at the very least shoot her a tranquilizer dart?" She looks like me, and she sounds like me, but I don't *feel* like her. Sometimes, I can't feel anything. For days on end, I walk around like a zombie, impervious to anything - I can't feel pain, but I can't feel joy either. Then, suddenly, all I can feel is this crushing despair, the kind that makes you need to stick your head in the oven. It's overwhelming - I can't breathe, can't think, can't see past the fact that this is my life, and it's never going to get any better, and it will always be this miserable, pathetic thing that I never wanted in the first place. All the weight of all our problems just presses down on me like - something cliche, I'm sure. And in those moments, my whole life is just one big disaster, closing in on me, and it's going to be that way forever. And it's killing me. And then it's gone, and I'm numb again.
Reading this over, it sounds pretty melodramatic, I think. It takes a special gift to write well about things like tragedy and sadness and anger without sounding trite or overdone. That's a gift that I don't have, as you can see. However, it makes me feel better to get some of this out there and off my mind. It's for me. I'm going to try upping my anxiety meds a bit (you think?!) and possibly going back to my antipsychotic*. Or maybe even trying something else. I'll be doing some serious research just as soon as I get my ass out of this sling. Something has to work, at some point. They say the meds can only take you so far, and you have to do the rest on your own, which is totally true. You have to *want* to get better, and you have to actively work at it. But at the same time, there is a chemical component, which is exacerbated by the situation at hand, and if that's not resolved first, I can't even *want* to get better, much less take steps in the right direction (the right direction being *away* from the oven, for those of you still reading).
*That makes it sound so awful! "Psyhcotic" has such negative connotations. It's actually very useful for bipolar depression, or so the survey says...