A bleak and terrifying place

[mousme]

That's how I described my mind to my psychiatrist today, and that's pretty much what it's like living in here these days.

Go figure, eh?

Things are slowly coming unravelled again, as they always do.

My mother's best friend since childhood is staying with her and my father for a few days whose daughter is anorexic (well, recovering, anyway, she hasn't been underweight in nearly four years or so). Her daughter was extremely ill and nearly died twice and suffered brain damage and lost muscle mass in her heart and all sorts of nastiness as a result of her eating disorder.

She was telling us more about it today over coffee, how, in her experience at least, anorexics spent their time in a constant state of fear —she didn't know of what, precisely, but fear nonetheless. That they were always frightened and cold, that they sometimes hear voices...

And as she was saying this I sat there with my hands folded carefully in my lap and all of me wanted to shriek it's dark and frightening in here too, don't you see that? Why does it always have to be visible on the outside before you listen? and of course I simply nodded seriously and stirred my coffee and said nothing at all while my thoughts scraped bloodily at the inside of my skull.

Nothing seems to be going right these days, at least not in my head. Every time I try to sort things out, the answer eludes me, slips from my grasp like a water sprite. I feel like I'm following a torchlight only to discover that it's a will-o'-the-wisp.

It's very hard to describe what goes on in my head. The best I can do is say that it's kind of like white noise, only that there are distinguishable bits that surface every now and then, and there's always music, although the volume of the music swells and fades without warning. Thoughts are always going around and around and around, and they never stop, except when I sleep, and sometimes not even then (I still think when I sleep, because sometimes I only half-sleep). Even when I'm depressed my thoughts don't slow down, like now.

The only difference is that when I'm hypomanic I have the illusion that the thoughts make sense. Maybe they do. Right now they don't seem to make sense at all. Some of them do. They make enough sense to write this, which is a relief. At the worst times, I have the impression that nothing makes sense anymore, that nothing ever will, and I don't bother writing, I don't bother trying to understand. I just let the darkness swirl round and round in an endless vortex of blind incomprehension of static and paranoid whispers and tearing, screaming thoughts that have no beginning and no end.

I don't know why I'm writing this. There doesn't seem to be much point. I'm sorry. Nothing witty to undercut the despair. No quip to soften the blow. Just this.

Comments

[ex-digitalis869.livejournal.com]

I can't make it stop, but I can be company, somewhat.

[angelovernh.livejournal.com]

Sometimes the thoughts make sense and sometimes they don't. Why I'm feeling lonely now is a mystery to me. How I can be depressed and madly in love at the same time boggles my mind. How I can go from total joy to utter despair on minutes is just ridiculous. Not everything is awful now, in fact hardly anything is, but I feel suicidal anyhow. Does it help to distract yourself with movies or books? Does it help to know someone is listening and someone cares? I am listening. I care. {{{{{gentle hugs}}}}}

[djs-specs.livejournal.com]

What do you say when words aren't enough?

How do you send a touch through email?

I might not understand what you're going through, but I do care...

*hugs*

[joane.livejournal.com]

Thoughts are always going around and around and around, and they never stop, except when I sleep, and sometimes not even then (I still think when I sleep, because sometimes I only half-sleep). Even when I'm depressed my thoughts don't slow down, like now...[snip]... I just let the darkness swirl round and round in an endless vortex of blind incomprehension of static and paranoid whispers and tearing, screaming thoughts that have no beginning and no end."


Sweetie... are you *sure* you're not still manic? I don't know much, if anything, about mania, but I was under the impression that this [points up] sounds an awful lot like it, but without the adrenalive rush and the "fun" (term used loosely) of the high. Could this be the drugs taking the edge off, but not curing it completely?

Joane <-- probably full of shit, but trying to help.

{{{{{gentle hugs, soothing backrubs & tea}}}}}}}

[mousme.livejournal.com]

*hugs back*

More likely what's called a "mixed state." (That is, manic symptoms but without the the high.) Seeingthe shrink again in two weeks to make sure the meds don't need fiddling with. :P

*sigh*

Thanks, sweetie. :)

[odheirre.livejournal.com]

I don't know why I'm writing this. There doesn't seem to be much point. I'm sorry. Nothing witty to undercut the despair. No quip to soften the blow. Just this.

There doesn't need to be anything else. Hugs.

[slipjig.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

[vureoelt.livejournal.com]

Well, maybe because you are able to put it down that you did. *shrugs* Maybe it'll be useful in some fashion at a later date or something.

white noise

[(Anonymous)]

I am not in the same boat you are in terms of reasons why sleep sometimes eludes me HOWEVER ... have you tried meditation? I know it sounds hokey, but I've found that if I count .. not things, just count ... to 100 over and over then the busy part of my brain is busy counting instead of sorting through things and it keeps me distracted enough to let the rest of me wind down. I'm not saying it will be effective for you, but it's one of the things that I have found to be effective for me and I just thought I would share.

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[(Anonymous)]

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