Things are bad. Very bad indeed. I’m having miserable luck which would almost be tolerable if I were not also having mood issues and psychosis. The food problems returned a few weeks ago, and they’ve hung about to some extent. They’re better, in that I’m not doing the binge/purge thing on a daily basis, but they’re still in place. I have a feeling they might be in place for a while. This feels like it did when I was first diagnosed at aged 19. I know, logically, that this is very damaging to mind and body, but I can’t quite fend off the behaviour. Which probably led to the next bit.
The weekend before last, I started getting extremely paranoid. This is never a good sign. By that Saturday night, I was incredibly stressed. By that Sunday, I was suicidal. Staying alive was quite honestly a fight. I was awake most of that night debating whether to stay alive and fighting with a very strong urge to swallow every pill in my side table. The thought was ‘what if my only hope is just to hope it doesn’t get worse. The SRA component means it never will get better.’ I still feel like that, but I’m trying to ignore it. My mind flirts with suicide, but I don’t feel a critical danger. Last week I set the plan and wrote the letters. This week, I’m just overwhelmed and aware that I could very easily slip back in to that suicidal mindset.
This weekend, the psychosis started. It started whilst I was driving, and I thought I might have an accident. A dead woman with solid white eyes and wet, stringy black hair leaned between my best friend and I. Eventually, her eyes turned dark, and worms started crawling out of her mouth. I told this to my best friend and said I hoped she didn’t stay once he left. Next I knew, the hallucination gave me a sardonic smile and nodded her head yes. On my one hour drive home, I could hear the voice of the dead woman sitting in the car behind me. Only when I phoned a dear friend did the voice stop. I don’t typically hold phone conversations whilst driving, but that night it was a choice between trying to drive whilst minding an hallucination or talking with a friend to drown out the voice and (partially) the image.
I went home briefly, but the hallucinations continued. Once again, the man who calls the dead people stood in my room and told me he would bring them if I didn’t give a blood sacrifice. Once again, I cut my arm until the blood flowed down it. Finally, I managed to escape and walked the half block or so to my friend’s house and stayed with her, watching carefully for the man and dead people because I knew they’d be angry with me for hiding. The psychosis has passed. The depression is still set firmly, interrupted only by hypo-manic symptoms and hypervigilance. I have therapy on Thursday and am slightly afraid she’ll put me in a crisis unit until things calm. The repercussions of that, given my SRA background, could be severe. I just want to get help, though. I’m at my final tether now.
Add to that ‘normal’ problems. A cutback at work that will, once put in to effect, cause me to make less than I need to even pay my bills. A crap review makes me think they might fire me soon anyway. And, to be completely honest, I’ve missed a fair bit of work lately because the depression left me too tired to even get out of bed early in the week. Financially, I have no idea what I’m going to do. The Americans refer to ‘bleeding a turnip’ as the term for trying to get money from a person who has none to give. I’m in that position right now.
So this is me: overwhelmed by even the smallest problem, on the verge of suicidal, depressed, psychotic, and hypo-manic all at once. No idea of the path from here.