Diary of a Schizophrenic

I hurt.

Not just physically but emotionally.

This week my body was the center of attention. 2 trips to the E.R and a trip to the Dr’s office and I now have a cold. The Er Dr. gave me Loritab and phenegren to deal with the pain. I had forgotten how good drugs feel. Even though I am trying so hard not too take it unless I absolutely have too, it is tempting. When I take it it not only numbs the physical pain but my emotional pain. I had forgotten how Much I really hurt. I had just gotten used to it. The first time I ever remember being free of pain was the first time I drank. For the first time I didn’t feel sad. I could function and the Constant voices, the constant noise was gone. It was quiet.

I had forgotten. I had gotten so used to wearing this mask. I had forgotten it was one. Till coming off the drugs reminded me just how much fixing I need to do.

I need a sponsor.

I will not take pills because they are expensive and have bad side effects. But alcohol is different. I know I could function so much better drinking. People don’t believe me. They see alcoholism as being an addiction and detrimental. It is. I am not arguing that. But so is medication. But when restricted and monitored it really helps. Alcohol is cheaper then any pills I could ask my Dr. for.

I have been sober for 5 years. But I have not been living. Just a dry drunk. I try. I do what I think normal people should do. I try to make decisions on what is important and how can I meet those goals. I do well. But sometimes it is harder to do what is right. I have really taken to heart the whole “What would Jesus Do”. I try so hard. I could do it. I could serve my fellow man and be the best wife ever just like out of one of those 50′s tv commercials. If I just didn’t hurt. I could push myself and be what society deems normal.

I know why there aren’t many people who have lived like I have and are still here. I look for them. Most of us have been taken by addiction or depression. Even those who manage to live many years. I have yet to meet one who has died of natural causes. Maybe because I am only 29 and avoid people. But I still look and hope.

I feel as I am bleeding on the inside. No matter how many meetings I go to, no matter how many services I attend and no matter how many Dr.s I talk too I can’t stop bleeding. I have to wonder if the feeling became so everyday and constant my body began to physically bleed becuase of my emotional state.

I find myself telling people my story hoping they will say something or do something to staunch the pain and bleeding. But they always seem so horrified and depressed I feel guilty laying my garbage in front of them and try to play it off as it is just a huge personal joke and no big thing.

I am trying to be honest with myself. I really am. I hurt soo much.

I believe My heavenly Father can fix me. But every time I go down that path people around me leave or get hurt. The monsters become real. I end up more alone. Being with Him feels like rolling around in broken glass. Yet I love him. He is so comforting. Like a warm sunny afternoon. I see him in everything. Sometimes I find myself almost believing that this whole world and everything in it is just for me and my personal gain specially tailored by my Heavenly Father. When I am sad and feel alone It rains. I know it his way of showing me he loves me and is watching. LOL It is raining NOW he is watching me. Hope fully this means I am making a good choice telling all my dirty little secrets.

I have to wonder what is wrong with my wiring. Being with my Heavenly Father and Mother and feeling the Holy spirit is a painful but comforting experience. I know they love me. But I have to fight with myself to keep my mind open and walls down. However I keep finding myself on the opposite side of the street, in darkness. I find myself attracted to it. I find it as equally comforting in it’s predictability. I know what they want. I know what they will do for it. Then the biggest mystery of all. I am so baffled I struggle to find the words to explain what it is I feel. When I think of the Darkness I think of Lucifer Son of the Morning. When I think of him I feel this pain as if I have lost my best friend. I feel this overwhelming love and sadness. I also feel as I have betrayed him. I want to be with him so much and just hold him.

Messed up huh? These emotions and feelings have confused me so much. For a long time I thought I was evil. It was the only explanation I could come up with. Then I met him. At least I really believe I did. He came to me one night when I was first trying to go back to church and was struggling with choices. He came to me wearing a black silk tux with an ivory silk high collar , top hat and cane. He was breathtakingly handsome.  I swear all the shadows leaned toward him and  it made him seem like the brightest thing in the room. He spoke to me. I try to remember what he said. But for some reason I can’t. I remember answering him back. I remember I wasn’t frightened. I wanted him to sweep me up and wisk me away like in the romance novels. I remember he asked me something, I remember gathering my courage sticking out my chin and replying. I could feel the atmosphere suddenly change. Almost like I had been sitting in front of a warm bright crackling fire and someone opened the door as a huge cold wind comes in and blows the fire out and drops the tempature to freezing. He stood up  and floated toward me with purpose till he was standing over my bed. I was now scared out of my wits.  He put on his hat leaned over looking at me. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. As clear as a bell he said “I will have you and you will be mine.”

Even now I can feel the remnants of fear this memory still brings up.  Why would he care? I am nothing aren’t I? That’s what my parents and the voices tell me. Just a waste of space. That’s all. Everyday I have to prove they are wrong. I have to prove I am worth something. That I do matter. So I make sacrifices, I become the martyr. I know for someone to have success someone else must fail. For their to be good in the world there must be evil. For someone to be lucky someone must be unlucky. I used to believe blessing were gathered as tokens that you could cash in. As a child I would do service like my sisters chores or take a beating for someone. Then ask God to give my blessings to others who needed it. Those who didn’t understand how the world worked. I didn’t want them. Because even then I knew someone had to pay. As long as I suffered my siblings wouldn’t have to suffer as much. I still see the world as that to some extent. But if I am worthless, Why would an all powerful being have any interest in me. Why do I hear I love you in the wind and rain when I am alone and broken.

Why?  If I were not some how important?

I have to be careful with these types of thoughts. Because my whole belief and life’s actions are based on this self sacrifice mindset. But maybe it’s time for a different mindset. I wish I had someone to talk too. But for some reason nobody is returning my calls or chats. I can’t help think I pushed the bar too far. I am not the best friend. I am not even good at being a good person. I know I must be exhausting to be with and my life is always drama drama and more drama. I appreciate my friends so much for putting up with my mood swings and sickness and all the other crap that follows me around. They are each wonderful friends. I need them. they help me see the good in the world. They help me see the good in myself.

Especially My husband. I don’t know how he does it. He puts up with me the most. I know I am high maintenance and demanding.  He is so sweet and thoughtful some times it makes me cry.  He puts up with the monsters and the sickness and drama.

I am afraid I am losing him. It’s my fault for pushing him away.  I agreed to certain rules and decisions. Now I am unhappy and want to change the rules. It is not fair to him. I also have this terrible habit of keep opening my mouth. If I just kept it shut we wouldn’t have any fights. For whatever reason I get sooo angry over little things. It’s stupid really and I can’t seem to let it go. I even pray and pray until I am exhausted and crying so hard that I can’t talk anymore and it doesn’t do any good. If I drank i wouldn’t be angry. I wouldn’t care if he yelled at me for talking or for wanting to do something that he didn’t agree with. I would be the perfect sub servant wife.

This is why Alcohol is a good thing. It is like medicine. One I could take without bad side effects. I don’t get sick. I don’t get hang overs. I don’t do stupid stuff while drinking. I am in more control of myself when drinking. It’s cheap and I can control it. The frustrating thing is that once I start I become dependent on it. I rely on it. I need it to keep the voices and monsters at bay. But isn’t medicine the same?

Oh and when drinking my body basically becomes an open house for any evil spirit or demon that happens by. But is that such a high price to pay?

Actually it is.

But is it worth it?  Maybe. . . I wouldn’t hurt anymore.  It would literally be my shelter in my own storm. The bottle would become my ultimate place of escape. I wouldn’t have to rely on those around me anymore.

Maybe THAT’S my problem. Escaping. Instead of being brave and facing my issues I try to avoid them. So what if going to church is agonizing. It’s the right thing to do. What if keeping my mask on becomes overbearing, keeping it on keeps those who care for me happy. So what if I love the dark . As long As I don’t choose it it doesn’t matter. So what if I feel as I am bleeding and DO bleed so much that I pass out. AS long as I stay here and work and just  keep it together for today I will be fine. Isn’t any sacrifice worth that. Don’t make any waves. Just keep your head down and do what you know is right no matter the consequences.

But what if I miss out on life? This is a once in a life time opportunity! And what if my sanity is to be the sacrifice. I have spent my WHOLE life just trying to keep my head down and do whats right to the best of my knowledge.

Like I said isn’t it about time something changed? Becuase this isn’t working out.

Prince Humperdinck: First things first, to the death.
Westley: No. To the pain.
Prince Humperdinck: I don’t think I’m quite familiar with that phrase.
Westley: I’ll explain and I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon.
Prince Humperdinck: That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.
Westley: It won’t be the last. To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.
Prince Humperdinck: And then my tongue I suppose, I killed you too quickly the last time. A mistake I don’t mean to duplicate tonight.
Westley: I wasn’t finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right.
Prince Humperdinck: And then my ears, I understand let’s get on with it.
Westley: WRONG. Your ears you keep and I’ll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, “Dear God! What is that thing,” will echo in your perfect ears. That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.
Prince Humperdinck: I think you’re bluffing.
Westley: It’s possible, Pig, I might be bluffing. It’s conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I’m only lying here because I lack the strength to stand. But, then again… perhaps I have the strength after all.
[slowly rises and points sword directly at the prince]
Westley: DROP… YOUR… SWORD!

So the following drama llama came into my life. For those who don’t know I have a medical issue that no doctor can figure out.  I just can’t stop bleeding. So my doctor decided we should try an IUD.  So after much deliberation I said sure. After about two weeks of increasing pain I end up in the ER. With Labor pains of all things. It was bad. For the Iud to work  they have to stick it way up in my uterus. To do it means I end up on a table with my knees to my ears and my legs spread as far as they can go, so the whole world can get a glimpse of the inner workings of my most private parts.

Very Painfull and Very Invasive.

My brain unable to comprehend the reasoning behind the pain started making up stuff all on it’s own. I had Creepy Monkey monsters cutting me open, the walls were bleeding and every ones face kept shifting to something out of an 80′s alien horror flick. Oh my favorite had to be a puke green humanoid monster who had an Eyeball as a head and a huge gaping tooth filled mouth as his stomach was peering and drooling at me. At one point the room began to fill with blood. Like from the cartoon Disney version of Alice in Wonderland. Things and random animals floating by filling the landscape.  The room stank like a slaughter house. My mind even created the gentle rocking motion of a boat. Which was so not helping my nausea.

The Pain is the only thing that kept me anchored in reality.

Buttercup: You mock my pain.
Man in Black: Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

Every wave of pain would bring me back to the my room  in the hospital. Every time it was harder and harder to remember it wasn’t real. I began to panic. I found myself at a point where I was preferring the separation of reality from the fictional blood filled landscape of monsters.  For the people in the ER were hurting me more than the monsters were.

I then remembered I can control time. Well at least my perception of time. I felt myself slipping away and used the last dregs of my sanity and stared at one point in the ceiling. I then focused on that spot with all my might. I focused my mind on that small part of the brain that I believed controlled time. I willed time to go faster.

Count Rugen: [admiring his torture contraption] Beautiful isn’t it? It took me half a lifetime to invent it. I’m sure you’ve discovered my deep and abiding interest in pain. Presently I’m writing the definitive work on the subject, so I want you to be totally honest with me on how the machine makes you feel. This being our first try, I’ll use the lowest setting.
[Count Rugen activates the water powered torture machine. Wesley writhes in great pain]
Count Rugen: [calmly] As you know, the concept of the suction pump is centuries old. Really that’s all this is except that instead of sucking water, I’m sucking life. I’ve just sucked one year of your life away. I might one day go as high as five, but I really don’t know what that would do to you. So, let’s just start with what we have. What did this do to you? Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity so be honest. How do you feel?
[Wesley cries and moans in pain]
Count Rugen: Interesting.

By the way it worked. No monsters, no doctors, no smell, no feeling and no voices screaming.

Just pain.

So I wrapped myself in it. I accepted it , I didn’t fight it and I threw it at the spot on the ceiling and time passed but I had no perception of it.

For the past 2 days I have felt incredibly sad. No Explanation. Not suicidal just breathing put me on the edge of tears. No idea why. I have also been in a lot of pain physically. But nothing out of the ordinary. Not unbearable pain. More inconvenient then anything.

Last night though not sure what happened.Well other than I completely lost it. It’s like my brain had enough. I had no warning. Nothing scurrying in the corners of my vision. No unexplained  bouts of panicking fear or paranoia. One minute I was fine enjoying watching Monk. The next living in a hallucinogenic nightmare complete with taste and smell, curled up in the fetal position on the bed bawling  my eyes out.

Yesterday was bad.

At work I  lost my cool.

I was on a difficult call. My head was hurting. I reached up to rub my temples and found a snake on my head! It was squeezing my head and moving. It was so real I freaked out! I jumped up and threw the snake on the desk. My co-worker said “Bad customer?” I looked at him suddenly realizing what I had done.

“uh Yeah, Terrible.” I sat back down putting my headset back on and tried not to completely embarrass myself.

Lunch…

I felt like i wanted to crawl out of my skin so I treated me and my hubby to lunch at the Eastbay Cafe. I went by myself to go fetch the order and have a moment to try and recenter myself. I got to the cafe  and almost gave myself whiplash because I kept hearing everyone calling my name. I swear that the man behind me was having a conversation with another man about eating human flesh. Specifically MY human flesh. I kept reminding myself that I was in Utah, not New Guinea or something. Plus one of the benefits of being me is that I have the talent for blending in and going un-noticed.  I  kept my cool long enough to book it out of there.

I like children. They can be pleasing to the eye. The well behaved winsome child can even soften the hardest of hearts. Children are how we may be immortal.

I will never have any.

My temper is to short. I expect to be obeyed the first time. When I punish a child I should not have to apologize for appearances. I hate lying. I will be respected. I put a roof over there heads and put clothes on there backs and food in their mouths. I will not be talked backed too. I will not put up with their whining and temper tantrums. I will encourage natural consequences.I will stick to what I said I will not be lenient.

Nor can I love them.

For I am unlovable. I feel so broken inside. Just wrong.  I cannot love. Not even my dogs.

But I was made to love. I was made to be a mother. My numerology is 2, my color is blue, To the Chinese I am a dog and in the zodiac I am a Cancer and my element is water. But I do not know how to love. I am uncomfortable with hugging. I don’t like being touched.

The only reason I married Roger was so I could be part of  a family.

It wasn’t the only reason. He was super hunky and I had a terrible crush on him but I wanted to be a part of his family. I wanted to make their life better.

But I am not. At least not any more. I don’t even like them. I take care of them out of obligation.  I try to give them the things that I think are important. Warm clothes. Healthy food. Life skills  like a good work ethic, cooking and cleaning. Experiences as a family. That’s why I am always taking them on trips and vacations. Trips to places to learn about the world around them. That they are important and birthdays are always worth celebrating. To be reverent. To make God real.

I can teach but I can’t  love.   It tears me up inside.

I don’t want people around me to have to deal with my brokeness. I definitely don’t want to curse someone to live with it. Not that I have a choice.

Oh how I wish I were invisible.

In my world invisibility is the most sought out gift. I don’t want to be seen by those around me. I do not want to be recognized for good or bad. I just wish not to be seen. If I was invisible I would not be forced to use so much restraint to sit her calmly on stage in front everyone.  I could scream.

How I wish to scream and cry.

But I can not. As it would be looked down up on by general society. Crying is a weakness. A tool. Women has overused the manipulative traits of crying so much that the chances of winning the crowds sympathy is just as equal to winning their wrath.

They abhor me. They do. They put up with my presence like a family puts up with an un-wanted dog. They will feed me and make sure that if I am present in the society of others they will treat me with proper fondness and respect as is called for. But alone, privately I am shunned, ignored.

If I were invisible I would not be such a burden to my family and peers.

My peers. My real peers are not found in the society I keep. Nay you would find them in parts of town you do not walk in at night. You will find my true peers with needles in there arms, bottles in their hands and a rock at their back. My true peers would welcome me with arms wide open if I come bearing what they need to be invisible. Once it was done they would not lie to my face. But I would be allowed to be invisible among them. A lump taking up space. I would seek no more than that.

Society can take it fancy cars and fancy houses! It’s social gatherings to talk about everything else but yourself, when all you want to do is to talk about yourself. Yet to be a part of society you must learn your lines. You must try to remember tidbits of previous conversations that you force your self to sound honestly curios about though you couldn’t care less. You feign interest in hopes to flatter the individual you are speaking with so that they will in turn ask about yourself. Which is why you really play the games. Memorizing bits of gossip listening and to the drollings of the influential. Just to talk about yourself. Society is such a temporous beast. Constantly changing it’s views. Constantly  raising someone in it’s ranks only to drop them the next week like a flea bit dog.  To constantly hear your name in whispered tones knowing your actions and weaknesses are being exploited for the amusement or rise of others.

If you saw the world as I painted it, would you not want to be invisible too?

I am tired of the dark thoughts in my mind. Every time I handle a knife or a vegetable peeler, the thought of “must kill yourself”. If someone walks by the urge to strike out and hurt them flashes through my mind. Does everyone think like that?

Sometimes I feel like my life filters through a hole in my middle. The hole is surrounded by broken glass. Just a constant pain and struggle.  Sometimes just sometimes the broken glass stops hurting and my hole is smaller. So I know it is not like this all the time.  Is it just me? or does everyone’s life flow through a hole filled with broken glass like the wind through chimes.

Sometimes  I believe the voices in my head. When they tell me I am different. When they say I am special. I want to let go and stop fighting them. I want to believe that I am special and it is okay. I shouldn’t be afraid as they are my friends and they will help me go somewhere where people will love me and understand me. That I don’t have to stay with people who can’t see the extraordinary gifts I have, They say they can take me to a place where I am appreciated. They tell me I am not the crazy one. Those around me simply cannot see and cannot hear them.

All I have to do is relax and let go.

That scares me the most!

I saw a gnome today. It isn’t the first time. He was trying to catch a duck. I think. He was sitting awfully still with twine in a loop. it looked like he had a rabbit fur jerkin or vest with a t-shirt and jeans on.His jeans were muddy and torn. He had a beard but not a huge one. Like in the middlish range of beards. He looked hungry. I am not sure if he is real. So I decided I will leave an apple by the tree. If it is gone than I can know he was real. If they like apples.

Thins like Gnomes, Faeries and elemental spirits are in the in between realms of real and not real. Like God. Many people claim to have seen them. But it is difficult to prove there existence with out a doubt. It comes down to a personal something. ( I don’t remember the word for it at the moment)

I have a personal something…I know God exists.

Though in all fairness it took me a long time to believe that tomorrow would come. That the sun will come back up. I lived my life not knowing if/when I went to bed if my nightmares would destroy me. Because I  know some are real and some are not. It was awful. I am very glad I am not in that space anymore.

Update…

The Apple was gone when I checked the next day.

One of my favorite quotes from Groundhogs day. I feel like I am repeating the same thing over and over and over and over and over and… What was I talking about?

Just jking. I think I am stuck in some kind of psychological rut. Even my hallucinations are getting repetitive. Queue lights out,  5 minutes in the darkness begin seeing shadows. Rule them out one by one. Dog moving .Cat outside window. Dog moving again. See figure move out of corner of eye. Queue Paranoia and hair standing on neck. Repeat to self, I am safe. I am in my bedroom.   The light of God surrounds me; The love of God enfolds me; The power of God protects me; The presence of God watches over me. Wherever I am, God is – and all is well!

Once hair and goosebumps have gone down queue witch to pop up inches from my face.  Go into beginnings of panic attack. Remind self that it isn’t real. It cannot touch you.  Witch in response begins crooning unintelligibly.  She reaches out. Close eyes. Legs feel like there are spiders and bugs crawling all over them. Suddenly you feel  a major amount of pressure in your head. Remind self to breathe. Remind oneself again the likelihood of a witch in your bedroom with pet spiders is extremely illogical, therefore this experience is false. At this point my brain begins tossing in random stuff. Demons showing up at the end of my bed with family members. Raping and torturing them. Walls begin breathing and bleeding. My Dad with exaggerated features,. Standing at least nine feet tall with a stick and glowing white and red eyes yelling at me. Telling me how worthless I am .

Usually at this point I close my eyes and try to block it out by singing in my head. Or house cleaning. But the monsters are in there too. I fight them the best I can. Like  Summoning up a pizza for my dad. He loves pizza and will leave me alone as Long as I keep him supplied. I throw holy water on the demons.  For the Witch I honestly haven’t figured out anything. But for the bugs I fill a spray bottle with really soapy water and spray them. They die and it makes easy clean-up. Silly things like this help.

My hallucinations aren’t the only repetitive things in my life. My whole family has moved on. By I constantly get sucked into my past. I relive it. Even at this very moment my world looks like two overlapping  pictures. Both of them faintly see-through but real enough to seem real. At this very moment I feel like I am on my old bed at my old house and I can hear my dad stomping around upstairs yelling. I am filled with fear and dread because I know a whuppin is coming. But it’s not. I know I am in my bedroom in Utah. But I can’t get rid of the fear and dread. Even though I am real here, now.  I still feel the claws of my past holding onto me and I don’t know how to get free.

* I just read what I wrote. I remembered I can pray.  Following the thought was if I get off this bed I will fall to my death. And sure enough I am now sitting in my bed in the middle of what appears to be a chasm. A cyclops is here. talking at me. I don’t know what he is saying but he is staying away from me. So I am ignoring him.*

Every one else has moved on why can’t I. My parents are happy with there new spouses. My siblings are living there lives. I want to too.

*Interesting turn of events. I suddenly began experiencing terrible back pain and now there is what appears to be a pterodactyl  sitting on back making dinner out of my innards. It’s like my brain has wired itself to come to first most unlikely cause of something and jump full heartily in.*

Uhg I guess I won’t finish but I think I have made my point.

Sheesh that pterodactyl is going to town.

Too much pain can’t write anymore.

Any ideas on how to defeat a pterodactyl?

Yeah finally finished tweaking with the headers!  Images have been provided by Hubble;  The 1.5 billion dollar telescope that was wrapped in foil with wings attached. Kindly donated by the hard working American’s tax dollars.

The rotating images are of distant nebulas, galaxies and stars. Pretty cool I think. If you would like to see more check out the site here: http://hubblesite.org

I like space. When I was a kid I used to be obsessed with the stars and aliens. When unexpected pain happened to my body, I knew it was invisible aliens. They were doing experiments on me. Poking me with needles. Putting vices on my head that cause my vision to blur, causing my hands and feet to suddenly go numb and then feel like I was walking on broken glass. etc..

Later on I discovered these types of pains were normal. Coming from pinched nerves and constricted blood vessels. The pains in my head were actually normal. I simply suffer from migraines.

Even now, when I am more learned in the ways the human body works, some times I still can’t help but jump to the alien theory when ever I feel an unexplained new sharp  pain.