Teetering on the Edge

woman

It’s been some time since I’ve posted anything onto this site, my apologizes. I’d like to take this moment to speak about mental health, or in my case just rant a little bit. I’ve been dealing with a lot of ups and downs, and the downs have been brutal. Like pre-medication brutal. I tried looking for a new psychiatrist, but that road was a dead end, so I am stuck with the one I have. He isn’t terrible, but I know he could do a better job at listening. And my diagnosis confuses me. In the past, I’ve gone through so many different labels and as it stands today, I, according to my psychiatrist, have rapid cycling bipolar I with psychotic features in addition to the borderline personality disorder I was diagnosed with back in 2011 at the Horsham Clinic. That’s a lot to bite off and chew, but I get by.

Right now, I’m on the edge, sort of teetering between sanity and the abyss. I’m starting to have auditory hallucinations again, and I can now recognize that I’m having them. I hear a woman screaming and making feral sounding noises. It scratches at my brain like razor blades and claws, like there is a trapped animal inside my skull. I always have trouble trying to find ways to articulate these incidents, and until recently I was at a loss, that is until a certain movie came out in 2005, The Exorcism of Emily Rose. There were several scenes in that movie that resonated with me, and while I knew the movie was about a possession, Emily’s mannerisms really hit home for me.

 

While there are many scenes, this one reminds me what I hear when I’m in the throes of a wild depression, hearing multiple screaming voices and on the verge of doing something destructive, like cutting, binge drinking or idealizing suicide. It’s the screaming that I hear so prominently, and it’s always a woman’s.

I’ve had several personas inhabit me over the years. And when I say that, I mean that my personality has shifted based on certain external stimuli. It feels like I am not in control of my body when this happens. Sometimes it’s violent and at other times it’s a docile change. Over the years, I’ve boiled down these personas or, archetypes, as I’ve come to call them to four. The first is the White Lady, a cold and calculating spectral looking woman. I see her coming for me without a face, her hands outstretched towards my heart and when she seizes it, I feel myself falling away and her presence getting stronger until I’m left as nothing but a spectator in my own mind. I feel like I’m stuck in the back of a police car, banging on the grate while she smirks and drives me around. The last time she took control of me, I almost killed myself. I vaguely remember taking a kitchen blade and carving up my left arm before passing out on the floor and being discovered by my father. When I came too, I was still not in control, it felt like an extreme dissociative episode. Colors were vibrant yet the world was blurry, and the White Lady just laughed, a low menacing cackle, as my father attempted to bandage me up.

Next up is Ravenous, who looks like a black and red werewolf type creature. Feral, angry and irrational. He appears when I feel a normal amount of anger, tearing away at my rationality until he claws his way through into my brain and takes over. I remember distinctly this happening many times, and again it is accompanied by a woman screaming. Once, many years ago, Ravenous took control and I had a red-out. I saw red and proceeded to act out violently.

Soooo, I planned on writing more, especially about the other two archetypes, but I don’t feel very well right now so I shall, hopefully, continue on a later post. Thank you for listening to my ramble this evening and I promise to update very soon.

Night and Water

moon

Clouds drift, east against
the backdrop of the crescent moon.

Illuminated, like
black ink through water.

The western sky, weighty
with storm caps.

Lightning flickers from
behind; fireflies and light-switches.

False moments of daybreak; a pastel
snapshot of tomorrow.

Then stillness; calm before
the rapture’s flush

Earth drowned; water
and mist.

© The Eyes of Seraphim

The Queen of Psychosis

I’ve decided to switch psychiatrists. A couple months ago I had a severe reaction to Lamictal, the medication I was taking for my presumed bipolar disorder. And now that I am nearly healed (still dealing with skin peeling and red blotching), he wants to PUT ME BACK ON IT. Besides risking having a relapse with another potentially fatal rash, he doesn’t listen to me when I bring up any symptoms and dismisses everything that doesn’t “fit” into the diagnosis that he already gave me, which is Bipolar 1 with Psychotic Features.

Psychotic I get, I’m like the queen of psychosis. Well, not really…but it feels that way.

So I am going to call the new doctor this Monday since they are accepting new patients. I wrote down all my symptoms because when I’m under pressure I get flustered and forget things easily. I can share some of them with you all, but not all…just because some are personal. Before I begin, in a nutshell I don’t believe that I am bipolar and this has been confirmed by others who are very close to me. There is something else going on here. Is it BPD? Or is it something completely different? Hopefully the doctor will provide me some answers.

  1. Sign posts are sentient beings out to get me. A couple of times I see them uproot and lean in towards my car, trying to smash the windshield. It’s terrifying.
  2. I hear the voices of friends and relatives telling me terrible things. Sometimes its voices I don’t recognize. Once I heard a man with an Australian accent narrating my progress at work. It was strange.
  3. Things can seem odd to me. Colors in my environment can become neon bright, I can feel words stumbling out of my mouth like blocks, and people’s faces look like lava lamps.
  4. Sometimes I space out so badly I forget how to read, move or speak.
  5. If I sit/stand to close to someone or touch them they can then read my mind.

That’s all I am going to relay to you guys at the moment. I have my suspicions as to what it MAY be, but I could be way off. Just wish me luck come Monday, hopefully I can make an appointment.

 

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Diary Post – February 5 2007

I’m much better off than I was all those years ago, but memories still sting. I feel for my past self. People always wonder what they would do with a time machine, and a part of me wants to go back and save my naive little self from nearly three years of hell. But then that would change my future and I might not be sitting here today writing in this blog, and certainly not this post.

So I’ve been casually reading through my old diary from college, just remarking at how I went from optimistic to despairing in such a short couple of months. I had been dating a very abusive partner at the time and it broke me. He loved to accuse me of having a multitude of “miscommunication’s” with him. His terminology for “not understanding” his method of thought or his wild philosophies. And it pains me to admit it, but I feel as though I have absorbed some of his characteristics without even meaning to. I am working so hard to undo the damage he has sown upon me. The entry below details one such miscommunication we had.

“Paul and I had gotten into an argument about me not “understanding” him. I was extremely distraught over this and I wanted him to know that, but I am afraid to tell him and then have him reiterate that I don’t understand him. This seems to be the biggest issue that happens between us, I am devastated by the whole thing; I’m eating less, I’m depressed, unmotivated, and I keep getting sick. 

I want things to work out between us and I’m doing my absolute best to keep it all working. I’m trying to not be pessimistic, I want to be the one who is positive because Paul isn’t always happy.

I missed my first class this morning because that night I was up extremely late trying to set things right. Paul started arguing with me going on about how I never could understand him and that we were having another miscommunication (whatever that meant). We were in bed and there came a point where Paul kept pushing me away from him, in a literal physical sense. Whenever I tried to settle down into a sleeping position, I would inadvertently have my body touching his because the bed was so small. When I tried to place my hands along his back, he pushed me off and away, almost toppling me out of bed. I was heartbroken. I made my best effort to try and sleep without touching him, which meant that my head was no longer on a pillow and I was practically dangling off the edge of the mattress. 

I can never do anything right, and that’s an honest answer. What am I doing wrong? Am I blind, deaf? I thought I understood him, I really did, but now all of his insistent arguments against me are making me think otherwise.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you gaslighting. I realize that now, I didn’t have a word for it back then or even understood what it was. But now I know better.

What came next in the diary were the lyrics to “Weak and Powerless” by A Perfect Circle. I wrote those in there because that was exactly how I was feeling, weak and powerless.

“Little angel go away
Come again some other day
The devil has my ear today
I’ll never hear a word you say…”

Stay tuned for more diary posts and poetry. Leave questions in the comment section and don’t forget to subscribe!

Paranoia

paranoia
picture source

 

Scattered thoughts like birds
Anxious and rabid
Etch their songs across the corners
Tittering madly
Rocking back and forth

Tick tick tick goes the clock…must be a good girl…
Tic tic tic goes my neck…must not be a stupid girl…

Voices and fingernails leave trenches along
the flesh of my human soul
Deep wells in the sand that are hard to fill
except for the madness
Gnawing away

Why do you hate me??
I’m not hiding….I’m not hiding…I’m not hiding…

I’m afraid that he still loves she
That I am replaceable just
like I was before. Replaceable
And that this is all a lie
You’re the lie

One two three…does he still love she?
One two three…everyone is better than me.

I hear them whispering
through the walls
They hate me; they all hate me
Do it they say
Do it…

Shut your eyes, hold your breath…
Fade away to nothingness

Hold your heart, watch it die…
Its been broken by a lullaby 

© The Eyes of Seraphim 2016

 

The Fens of the Sea

waterpicture source

The sea thunders inside my head
Seagulls screech behind my eyes

I stare into the foggy waves and wonder
I wonder…

Water crashes against earth
Salt spray entangles my hair

I listen to the roar of the ocean and wander
I wander…

The brine licks my white fingertips
And catches me fast in a bitter embrace

I feel the weight of the sea above me and I wait
I wait…

Falling beneath and in between
The gentle sands cradle my head

I see the sun shimmering above and I watch
I watch…

Ice and fire captivate my lungs
My vision blurs out the sun

I descend into the fens of the sea and I wallow
I wallow…

And I remain…

© The Eyes of Seraphim 2016

Why?

Domestic violence victim

That crucifix of yours
Rough covered and sharp
Made with prejudice and a harsh tongue
Unwavering
Rigid
Alone in its thoughtless dust

Then you took my hand
And held it firm to the cross
I walked away riddled in splinters
“That’s love” you would say
You even assured me that our bond was holy
But the pain made me question my faith

When the roses began to wilt
And the thorns grew longer
My quiet heart was trapped
Beating against me as it tried to grow

Until I was bleeding
It was then that I realized
You used my faith against me
Pricked my fingers and called it love
Yet I remained
And now I wonder

Why?