I didn't want to go out. I just wanted to stay home and relax. All weekend has been about everyone else. Maybe I just wanted a night for myself. But as usual that is too much to ask.
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People Everywhere
So last night our roommate had a bunch of people over for Part 1 of his birthday celebration. There were about twenty people cramped into our small living room as we watched ridiculously bad movies. Unfortunately, that many people in such a confined space, even though they were people I know, set off a nice little bout of social anxiety. I felt like the air was being sucked out of the room and that everyone was judging me because I was being quiet and not taking part in the festivities. I ended up having to take two xanax to calm down and not freak out, which helped a lot but made me a little drowsy. By the time the last movie was started I was already ready for bed. I made it through though, but just barely.
Part 2 is tonight, which means another large group of people. Hopefully I get through it a little better this time.
Bad Night
I had a bad night last night. I felt like I was going up and down and up and down over and over again. It wouldn't stop. One moment I would be in tears the next moment I was a ball of anger and frustration. Not over anything in particular, but over everything that I could think of. It started while I was at work yesterday. I kept it to myself pretty much so no one else would notice that anything was wrong, but it got to the point that I bought a razor blade. I planned on cutting myself that night after everyone had gone to bed.
I got so worked up that I threw my dinner away that I had just cooked and shoved my girlfriend out of the way and ran into the room. I sat alone for twenty minutes or so just steaming over everything, getting more and more worked up. Then she came in and tried to talk to me. I don't remember all of the conversation but I remember going from one extreme to the other, being a crying mess and then angry and hateful.
At one point I got the razor out of my bag when she wasn't paying attention. I thought about just jabbing it into my arm. I didn't want to kill myself. I just needed to let it all out. To let all the anger out because it was killing me to hold it in.
She came over and sat down beside me and I hid the blade. Several minutes passed and then I forced myself to give her the razor. I knew it was wrong what I wanted to do, and for a brief moment reason won out. We talked for a little bit. I tried to take the razor back from her but she got away and got rid of it. I'm ashamed of myself for how I acted. It was like I lost control of myself for short little bursts.
I got really upset afterward and suggested maybe I should go to the hospital. But then I got really angry with her because she wasn't sure whether or not I should go. It took a lot for me to even suggest going and then when she acted like I might not need to go I took it personally and I became irate with her. She thought I was just playing some game with her, like I wanted to go the hospital but I wouldn't just say it. But I didn't want to go to the hospital. I hate the hospital I hate going there. I hate how it makes me feel. But I also recognized that I was out of control and I probably needed to go.
We ended up not going and instead just tried to go to sleep. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned for hours upon hours. I still feel like a ball of energy and it's really fucking annoying. All in all, I probably got 2 to 3 hours of sleep.
I didn't go to work today. I had her call my boss and tell them why I couldn't come in. I'm not in any shape to go to work.
Can't Sleep
Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. All I do is toss and turn. Nothing helps. I just want to go to sleep but all I can think about is getting up and running around.
Fucking Bitch
I swear if that fucking bitch gives me any more of her fucking attitude I'm going to fucking tell her off. I'm not going to just sit and take it like everyone else.
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Labor Day
It's so nice to have a job where I actually get days off, no matter how mind-numbingly boring it is. So this week I got a four day weekend. Only bad part is I was asked to work this coming Friday since I'm getting Monday off. Should be fine I suppose. I can't really afford to miss the extra six hours of pay. But at the same time I was looking forward to a three day work week. Oh well.
In other news, Metallica is right around the corner. September 15th. I need to remind my boss on Tuesday that I need the 15th off. It's going to suck for them but oh well. This has been planned since February and there's no chance I'm missing it. Despite all the chances I've had, I've never seen Metallica in concert and I'm fucking pumped about going. The one thing that I'm not looking forward to is going to Cincinnati (as I hate that city), as well as all the people who will be there (I can feel the social anxiety creeping in already). But that's why I have xanax.
Lamictal
A lot has happened. Let's catch up.
I quit my job.
I was unemployed for about a month or so. During which time I went through a bout of depression followed by hypomania.
I was taken off Depakote because it made me gain about forty pounds.
I was taken off Lexapro and moved to Cymbalta.
My abilify dose was halved due to possible reactions with Cymbalta.
I found a new job at a pharmacy that I worked before. It's very boring and I find myself wanting to scratch my eye balls out sometimes but at the end of the day it's very easy. I suffered a panic attack my second day there as I felt very overwhelmed by the people coming in and the constant ringing of the phone but I got through it. I'm only working twenty four hours a week, which is hard on the wallet but I'm getting by. I'm really hoping social security comes through in October/November, but I'm sure I'll be denied on my first run.
At my recent psychiatrist appointment, my doctor put bipolar back on the table as my diagnosis. I never really considered it off the table, but as we discussed, the reason it was taken off the table was because I seem to have an issue with telling the whole truth at my appointments. Apparently my control issues keep me from divulging everything out of fear that I am giving up control over myself, he thought, which makes a lot of sense.
With bipolar back on the table came a new drug: Lamictal. Before we decided on this, he offered me a whole range of medications. He told me about their side-effects and how some of them would require frequent blood tests, such as the case with Lithium. Lamictal sounded the most promising for several reasons.
1: It doesn't require any blood tests.
2: It is most effective in treatment of bipolar depression, which is a much larger problem for me than mania.
3: It doesn't include weight gain as possible side effects, and generally its side effects are less than that of the other drugs.
However, he did warn me about a possible side effect that causes the layers of skin to separate and develop into a rash of lesions. It is very, very rare. However, my brain is retarded. And no matter how rare it is, I am now freaking out about the whole thing, which is causing me to hold off on taking the first dose. I have no reason to suspect that I will suffer from this reaction, but I'm worried about it nonetheless. Worry, worry, worry. That's all I do, it seems.
I wish I knew some other people who are on this medication to talk about it with.