I have been so depressed lately, but I’m finally feeling a bit better. It helps to set one small goal each day so I at least have the illusion of being productive. Yesterday I cleaned one of my fish tanks. I’m sure the fish really appreciated it.
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I’ve been on Clozapine for about a week, going up on the dosage as my doctor had instructed, when things took a for the worse. I started running a fever, my body ached, I had chills, and I wasn’t making sense. When my mom woke me up this morning, I had a temperature of 104, and irately told her, “Avocados!” when she asked me if I knew where I was.
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Sometimes, I feel like I’m walking a knife’s edge, constantly on the verge of falling back into psychosis. Last night when my magical amulet/lightbulb broke, I was hysterical. For about five minutes. As soon as the shock wore off, I realized I was fine. Why is it so hard to stay grounded in reality? I have no idea.
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I was never sure if the lightbulb was a magical amulet or just something I needed to take to Lowe’s so I could find a match for the burnt-out fixture in my bedroom. Once I put it in my purse, I felt very sure that it must never leave my possession.
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December has never been an easy time for me. My days yawn out before me, vast and unstructured. I have blood work appointments, psychiatrist visits, and counseling sessions on the calendar, while all around me, Christmas is in the air.
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Quitting smoking is hard. It says so right in the nicotine replacement therapy packages I kept buying at CVS for two years straight so I wouldn’t have to go without my nic fix at work. I’ve switched to a vape, and tonight I ran out of my 3mg e-liquid, so I headed to the vape store to replace it with a 0mg liquid. I’ll hang onto the placebo effect for as long as I can.
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This morning, I woke to find the words “KILL ME” and “RAPE MEAT” written in Sharpie on my chest.
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