Method to the Madness

"A mind is a terrible thing to measure"

-Adam Phillips (New York Times)

You know what's funny, the whole reason I was admitted into the Hospital was my "supposed suicide attempt", the accidental, too deep, self harming I had done while high on sleeping pills and while I was there no one ever asked me anything about it. My doctor didn't really talk to me at all. In fact she talked to my parents more. Pretty much all the info she had on me was second hand from my parents, who didn't have the first clue as to why I did what I did. The strategy there was to drug us instead of talk to us. In the movies you see people getting one on one therapy, lying on a couch, talking away, making breakthroughs....it's all bull shit, or at least in my experience. I think I had the shittiest doctor possible. She never asked me why I cut myself....in face the cutting which she obviously knew about, was never mentioned. I know now, looking back what triggered the cutting. But no one asked me how I felt about graduating, not knowing what I was going to do with the rest of my life. The routine I had and we all had of waking at 6 or 7, going to school, eating lunch, talking to friends, coming home, eating dinner, doing homework, going to sleep and then staring it all over again the next day, was gone. And it hit me hard, harder than I thought it would. And then there was the whole thing with my parent's divorce. That was something that affected me deeply although I hating admitting to it. And there were personal things I had bottled away. Things that happened that I pretend didn't and they surfaced now and again. But I never had the opportunity to discuss these things with anyone. I was told I was Bi Polar, case closed. No explanation.

And those drugs they give you are horrible things. To help me sleep I was given Seroquel and Risperdal which are both  anti psychotics....pretty heavy stuff to be prescribed as a sleep aid. I was also given Lithium, clonazepam, Wellbutrin, Effexor and several other drugs I can't remember the names of. The side effects were terrible. I wouldn't wish them on anyone. But it's getting late and I must get some beauty rest.

My first time

"You become your environment, and you become what you are expected to be...I  went in well and turned ill overnight."

-Norah Vincent (Voluntary Madness)

(sometime during my first hospital stay)

Ok let's get back on track here. I started this blog to post word vomit about my sickness and hospital stays, my journey into insanity and back again and I haven't been writing like I thought I would. But I'm having one of those nights where I can't sleep and my head is racing with thoughts, basically writing one of these things itself so I thought I better take advantage of it tonight.

May 10th 2002 and it started like this.....

I had been abusing some sleeping medication for a little while now, not excessively but abusing none the less and this night I took 1 or 2 pills before taking a shower. I got a little woozy in the shower and for some reason I can't recall I decided after dressing that I would cut my wrist. Not suicide cut but because of the sleeping pills my motor skills were impaired and I cut myself much worse than I indented and because I was high and not thinking right I decided to show the deep gash with little balls of fat peeking out, to my younger siblings....bad idea...really stupid. I scared the shit out of them, obviously and this was the final straw with my parent's. They tried themselves, unsuccessfully to talk me into going to the hospital and then got me to talk to some guy on a suicide hot line or something. Which was horrible for me because I did not want to go to the hospital but I'm the type who pretty much always tells people what they want to hear. So I got talked into it pretty fast. They said it was just for one night to talk to my doctor and figure out a different medication situation for me to try....blah blah blah. But it turned into 3 weeks.

I spent the first night in emergency still naively thinking it was just for one night. After the horrible night there I was lead up to "crazy ward" and shown my bed. I told them I wasn't staying and they informed me, that yes I was....And the crying began.

After that stay at the Hospital I came home a different person. I feel like the Tessa that went in, didn't come back. She died. The drugs, the treatment, the whole environment swallowed her up. I was told I was sick and I became sick.

Sunshine where are you???

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity!"
 -Edgar Allan Poe

Wow, it's been quite a while since I last posted something. I guess this cold weather and lack of sunshine has finally gotten to me. I've been feeling so run down the last few weeks. I did manage to get some much needed "me" time by going out for a drink with my friend Jimmy and then spending a night alone at my Dad's house. It felt really good to be able to sleep through the night, no babies crying, just peace and quiet. And I also managed to get the painting I've been putting off for weeks, done....So things are looking up. My son is turning 1 next week and my 11 year anniversary with my husband is coming up in 2 weeks....And hopefully it'll get warmer soon and I can get some sunshine into my skin. Spring please come soon.