Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Now I know I'm Crazy

Okay, I've changed my mind. For one night and half a day, I let this post out of the bag. Its a confessional. I'm not going to change a thing. A damn thing. I guess I just wanted to be honest. I'm sorry. I will name this post "The Blog that Must Not Be Named". Originally posted 17th September 2004....

NB: This notice will be on board till1pm Saturday 18th September. I'm not sure I want Nik to see this.
On Wednesday, I had an overdose. I was not trying to kill myself. I do not think I want to kill myself, Ok? Look, I had to punish myself because I cut myself on Monday and I really enjoyed it. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop wondering if I'm crazy. I think I am, or at least I had some psychotic episode. You see when I was 12, there were voices in my head telling to do all sorts of crazy shit like hurting other people. At one point, I was obsessed with emulating Christ, although I am not religious. I thought I had to save the world and it had something to do with a boy I had a crush on at the time, and I really believed it. Of course, I didn't save the world and I thought I was going to die, but Sept 11th came about. I think I blamed myself for that too. I remember crying for all those people. Fucking nuts, I was.
What am I now? Severely depressed. Took triple the dosage of Night Nurse, double the amount of Covona and washed it down with some whisky. I'll be fine, no one pumped my stomach-I was just very sleepy and out-of-it the next which I was able to laugh off. No one is sniffing this trail. I did call NHS Direct, just to make sure I'd be OK. Talked to this lady called Verna and she wanted me to tell my parents. Ha. No....Chance. No...No...No...Chance. It isn't even part of the question. I don't even consider telling my family to be an option, so don't bother try to 'convince' me. So, after that she said if it was Ok to tell my college nurse, which was fine, she ain't gonna try to find me. I'm not suicidal, I'm healthy, and yes she would know I self harm but thats no biggie. Verna reccommended counselling which plausible. I'm willing to negotiate. I'm not making sense, am I?
My brother is a dick. Sorry, went a bit off track.
(See, he just cussed the great Alicia Keys-saying that the line 'And it feels like don't know my name' is stupid. It is, from a superficial point of view. But, sometimes words can be meaningless, like 'I love you' and 'Sorry' just doesn't cut it, and when you try to think of a word, it isn't there and all you have left is the whirlwind of emotions you feel and your deep maddening intentions, all punctuated by meaningless words. So, nothing is better than the 'ooooooh' because you can fill your own gap. It gives the listener space to feel, and that is a wondrous thing. Dunno if she was thinking like that though.)
But yes, I was reading up stuff on Channel 4, and it presented symptons of schitzophrenia(sp?) and I saw myself in all of them. It also said people with schitzophrenia, that 25% may have only one big episode and be fine afterwards. Sometimes its just misunderstood severe depression, which I can't have had for 4 years, cause I would be dead by now, right? How could I cope, acting and not having anyone else know, apart from the people I trust explicitly, truly?
I don't know. Like a line in a poem of mine, "Who can say, who can tell?"
I'm sorry if, offended anyone etc.


The Lioness said...

This is very worrisome. Vey troubling. I wish there was a way to help. I suppose you need to really want it or all the help in the world won't in fact help. Therapy can be a true life-saver, not only in the sense that it helps you stay alive, but in the sense that it would provide you with the tools to make sense out of things. But Betsy, one takes triple the dosage of Night Nurse, double the amount of Covona and washes it down with some whisky by accident. I'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope you'll find someone you find safe enough to open up with.

(And I think every sane person in the world cried and felt guilty over September 11)

CarpeDM said...

I also heard voices. Long time ago, right after my parents got divorced. It was scary.

Probably a serious chemical imbalance due to puberty but yeah, telling your counselor that clocks talk to you? Not such a good idea. Or maybe it was because I got more counseling and it helped in the long run.

Sometimes you will hear voices. I still do. Usually they are voices of doubt or derision, telling me that I can't do something, I'm no good, I'll never be any good. I don't listen to them anymore...okay, I try not to listen to them. Most times I succeed. It really helps to have great friends that you can talk to about everything. People that will support you. Maybe it's a good idea if Nik does see this?

Anonymous said...

People do care.