Neither plesant nor fun

What a day for the head. Double dose. Psychotherapy and psychiatry.

Who I both just saw on wednesday.

But I didn't tell the psychiatrist how down I really am.

Because I don't often know myself. I just feel numb and sleep a lot.

I feel guilty going back so soon. Under reporting how I'm doing.

But I did the right thing going back.

And it feels good to open up more to the psychiatrist. He's a good man. Understanding.

But I still feel bad and am disapointed he didn't do more. I suppose we can later. But for now just a bump on the abilify.

I suppose it was more an excercise in truth telling than anything else.

Better than expected

Met with the psychiatrist.

What a guy. I'm really lucky. So supportive.

He says that since i'm not going for the academic life, no reason to complete the ph.d.

I agree.

I guess dometimes kenedy is right. Fear fear itself

Started writing for an arts blog

Well, I sent my introduction post. Tried to be funny. Made me laugh.

I always feel anxious when I post like this. Don't know why. It's not like it really matters anyway. Not letting down all my adoring fans--not that I mind when people stumble across this and look.

But I feel so self-conscious. I was hoping that being anonymous would make it easier, and I suppose writing is possible because it's anonymous, yet it's not as easy as I hoped. I feel anxious.

Dredding going to the psychiatrist

I feel bad about almost everything.

Haven't been working, haven't been studying. Drinking too much. Not making enough of an effort in general.

School's the worst part. Just don't know if I have it in me anymore, which seems weak.

Oh well, face the music.

Adwords and Paranoia

Hi.

I think that I'm going to start blogging on this arts website. I know--I haven't been too consistent posting here, but they require a certain number of posts a week, and maybe having homework will get me into better habits here and there.

The thing that gets me is the guy who runs the blog wants me to set-up an Adwords account. Fine. But he wants my password, which makes me nervous.

Do you think that's sketchy?

Psychosis

Words follow words for minutes on end

A momentary stop and it all goes down

Just the empty semblance of thought

And the endless straying of sound

Life is waiting and things done in place of waiting

A train or death

Moments of revelation--a distraction

From the soft whispering of life

That goes one without us

prepping for therapy

Do you do this?

I feel like I need an hour of things to say, so I think about what the therapist and I are going to talk about.

Which is difficult when you haven't done anything.

I didn't even go to class yesterday.

I know I'm not making enough of an effort.

I just don't feel like it. Which is a horrible excuse.

I feel like I'm already ready to leave school.

Anxious

Money's going to be tight from now on. And no meds.

None.

My health insurance lapsed because I didn't register on time.

It will come back but right now I'm running on natural and it doesn't feel good.

Anxious. Edgy. Energetic.

I told myself last time I wouldn't do this again. And here I am again on my own.

Can't wait to see the therapist and have him guilt trip me.

i can't tell you how down i feel

it's not like a normal down.

it's like there's nothing there. no drive to do anything, no pleasure in life. aside from butter, which always provides pleasure--though momentary.

but everything else--reading, writing, seeing friends--all for naught.

so what. that's what i think, so what. and i can feel the gears grind to a hault. if i just stop for a minute, it turns into hours.

alcohol helps, helps break me free, for a moment. but i know there's a price to pay.

depression.

maybe the psychopharmacologists don't take the opposite of inhibition--habition, maybe--seriously. maybe it's a condition that drugs could help.

all about drugs these days, why the fuck not, i'm a drug addict. just my drugs are more expensive.

angry, yes.

still and all, there's very little pleasure in this life.

feel bad, thinking of drinking

Against the recommendation of the therapist, I'm thinking of drinking tonight.

Haven't done it in a while, and I'm off the abilify--ran out. Feels bad, man.

It's like quiting smoking but smoking doesn't feel better when I do it.

I know, I have lots of bad habits.

Maybe I'll drink for a bit and tell y0u how it's going. I fear it won't go well, but I miss it.

off ativan and other difficulties

I screwed up my insurance, because I didn't register until just yesterday.

An emergency loan I thought I'd paid came back to haunt me. But I only had to go three places before I found the right one, and they let me differ the loan until my student loan comes in. Soon, I hope.

I am bouncing back from difficulties earlier, trying to tackle things early. With limited success.

Facing demons--it's useful, I suppose just from a practical point of view, but it does make life easier, but it doesn't make me feel better, only worse.

I'm getting the picture of how fracked-up my life is. All the things I've ignored and screwed up for so long.

I'm beginning to see how it's been years I've struggled with myself. Years I've lost just trying to get back to where I was before I was diagnosed.

It really took a lot out of me and I should be honest about it.

Grad school and bipolar have been like a one-two hit--a combination that's really put me back.

Staggering now, I hope there's still time left in this fight to win. But I've lost too many rounds.

And I feel ambivalent about this post, though I am beginning to realize things about myself.