Had a great time last night. Scored a free ticket from a new friend I met at work. First a customer and now a friend. Helps to open up your circle a bit. Great seats. Fourth row, stage left, aisle. Thank you very much, Ann!
Cathartic to scream at the top of my lungs, bang my head, and join in with the mob in a loud chant. OZ-ZY! OZ-ZY! OZ-ZY!
Couple of bras were thrown at the Prince of Darkness. The song from West Side Story pops into my head when I see this one. Imagine him singing....."I feel pretty. Oh, so pretty."
Oh, and this guy opened....I think his name is Cut.....No. Shank....no. Sllllllaaaaaa? Something to do with a knife and murder.
Session with Z today. I hate walking out of the room and waiting for the next visit.
Prozac dosage has been increased. Still waiting for a noticeable change. Z said I wouldn't have noticed one on the preliminary dose. Need that change soon since the mood is bothering me. Hate meds so the willingness of taking one speaks volumes of what I'm trying to address.
Also looking for support groups. As much as I despise meds, I hate group therapy/support groups even more. Passionate dissent. But I need the help. I can't seem to find a friend among my friends to provide me with what I need. I can't be mad. I think I just need to be among the other crazies at the moment. Don't know the exact reason but it just feels right.
Signed onto some forums. Already dissatisfied. Looking at local community support groups. Unsuccessful at the moment.
I'm building up to a major manic episode. Not a good thing.
The last couple hours have been pleasant. At this moment, the Universe better be ready for a fucking swirly. I feel like eating a barracuda raw right now. I think I need a visit to Z's couch at this moment, but I fear I may eat him too....and I kinda need him.
Feeling cocky today. Ready to get into a fight. Feeling like I'll blurt out what I really feel and think. Wanting to cut everyone out of my life, grow a beard and live in some cave somewhere, hunting animals and cutting down trees.
I want to punch an angry dude in the face. I want to wrestle a lion. I want to stand on the tallest building's ledge. I want to run until I can't breathe any longer. I want to throw things. Kick a wall.
I feel invincible today. I feel good without anyone!
....and I'm scared of what's going on inside me today.
I get urges to run away some times. They share the same space in my head as those urges that tell me to kill myself or sleep forever.
I'm on a new medication. Last week Z prescribed Celexa, rather its generic. Two days and we decided to stop it. I had taken the first dose half an hour before my appointment with him. Usual crying and the normal swelling that goes with crying....or so I thought. The next day I took it on my way to work. Started with a yawn. Then a fat tongue. Tingly lips. Numb cheek, gums, and teeth. Drove to work with my mouth open and my tongue out so I could breathe. Possibly an allergic reaction so no more Celexa.
So, after twenty three years since my official initiation into the fucked up world of mental illness, I'm back on the same medicine, Prozac.
I hope and pray this helps because after my appointment today, I stared at the wall in front of my parked car. I've done this before. The urge to back my car up, gun it and smash into the wall was overwhelming.
There is no one out there to save me. I'm realizing it. Those words coming from others' mouths are coming out to make themselves feel better, I've come to believe; and I've nodded my head and picked myself up for their benefit. But honestly....I'm drowning. I need help.
I really fucking need help.
If I need someone to fucking sit on my chest until I stop squirming and trying to pull away, then fucking do it.