Monster's name

Monster's name

   4:12 PM       Laura

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To those I have burned all bridges with due to the event earlier this year, and there are several of you. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to be around me either.
Let me explain.

But my 110% couldn’t be maintained and after one particularly ‘manic’ period, I began to lose control. I stopped sleeping regularly and I rarely ate. I struggled to concentrate and had panic attacks. As my symptoms worsened,  my world became surreal; I detached from reality. I felt despair, anxiety and fear, not unlike  “The Scream, by Edvard Munch”.  I was terrified; I thought I was dying. 

I ran some research on a painting a friend posted for her 30 day Facebook challenge.  And found out that the painting was a depiction of someone recovering from bipolar disorder.   I’m not bipolar.  I acted as such due to the side effects of a medication I was taking:

Agitation, increased anxiety, or worsening depression or other paradoxical effects: This is not the same as a true manic switch, and can occur in people with or without bipolar disorder who take SSRI’s. In a small group of people, these medicines seem to irritate the brain wiring rather than soothe it.

Aaaaand. that’s what happened.
I don’t have to look back and say: “Something happened that I can’t explain. Something from November to May that I was on those stupid pills for school”
I can say:

I took something prescribed by a doctor that, instead of helping me, gave me the symptoms of a paranoid Schizophrenic and Bipolar Disorder , among others, as rare side effects.
And it destroyed my life.  

 And I suffer the consequences of not being able to control myself during that time. Of having impaired judgement.  Even now, a year later, I'm still suffering daily for something that wasn't necessarily my fault.


But at least I have a name now.   And it was not a name I was expecting.


And I won’t let it happen again.  The switches between manic and depression led me to people’s doorsteps. To yell at them, because I couldn’t take care of myself. And I expected them to.  I expected them to help, subconsciously I guess.  More than one person was a victim in this case.


Does a crazy person know they are crazy?  And can a crazy person realize they need help?

No.

It took a drastic change in my life to realize I needed stronger help than I had.  And after climbing out of a hole slightly, I saw my life in a horrified fashion.  Every bridge that I might have ever made with anyone had been burned. I was invasive, I was demanding, I was angry, I didn’t listen. I was jealous. I was controlling. I was horrible.  I was abusive. And it caused the ostracization of me from my circle of friends.  My family away from home.  I was all alone.

Stupid me.

Funnily enough.  I went on a mini strike of the meds in the middle of all this.  And I remember describing myself to others as “waking up” and seeing the world for once.  But I went back on them because the withdrawls were too bad.

Funny.. I don’t remember much about that point in time.  Except fear. Paranoia. Sadness. and Pain.

As of today, I am exactly 6 months medication free.

And  I will remain this way for the rest of my life. That doesn’t excuse what happened though.
And unfortunately, I have to respect every person’s decision to either avoid me or be wary.  It happened once. What’s to stop it from happening again? If I was in their position, would I have made the same decision?

Yes.

Based on my actions alone I would have abandoned them to whomever wanted to stick around to get their eyes clawed out.  For some people, this was the 2nd time this has happened, (funnily enough I was on the same medication at the time and was using it for a different purpose).  At this point it was a fool me once fool me twice type of thing.  And this means that any amount of “I’m better” isn’t going to change any minds.  I said that too many times during my..well, episodes.

And, I wouldn’t say it either.  I don’t trust my decision to say it.  I use the word changed.  And people have noticed the change.  And some of those whom I burned the bridge with now have a rope across the channel, so that a new bridge can be built.

But for some. it wasn’t just a burning of a bridge. It was a nuclear explosion on the bridge that makes it so  radiation full that no one can approach it.

Do I like it? No. Does it hurt? Like Hell. Do I respect it though? Yes. Do I understand why? Yes. Its my fault.  Regardless of whomever gave me the prescription, I didn’t react well, and I became a monster.  

And while a good description of what happened is at the beginning, The monster’s name, really is Laura. 


And do I know that It'll never happen ever again?


 Yes.  


I have the tools and friends in place to help me catch it if it happens again.  I can communicate more clearly than I ever have before.  I can see the big picture.  And things.... they don't hurt as much, but I'm not sure if that's only because "ignorance is bliss" 


And Its sad that I have to treat myself that way in order to forget the pain of the last year. 


The Year of Hell. 


My life has disintegrated around me. And I'm not going to go into everything that has gone on. I'm not dwelling on the past.  It came, it happened, its over.  


And all I can do is keep plowing through EVERYTHING still coming my way.