Wednesday, 2 June 2010

Ugh and insight

It seems like I have a real alcohol problem or the alcohol is medicating
what's an otherwise hard to manage state.

I haven't slept. I didn't drink last night. I'm mildly concerned because
not sleeping is a big warning sign for me. It's just one day. I've also
got an important conference call to deal with. I don't get paid for my
work in mental health and if I fuck this call up it's not going to be a
good thing. I may have to make an important decision.

It's been about 4 or 5 years now since I came off a regime of medication
that peaked at 3g of sodium valporate, 0.7g quetapine fulminate and
225mg sodium venlaflaxine, some thyroxine and propananol. Just as it was
stupid to come off all of those straight away it's clearly stupid for me
to stop drinking straight away.

I've gotten by with a little help from my friends. The ones that are
left after crisis.

There were times when it was very hard being off medication. Somehow I
managed not to kill myself. I went through psychosis without the
assistance of medical professionals.

I went to work while I went through paranoid delusions. These were not
the normal mild delusions and paranoias that people experience every
day. These are the normal but far from mild delusions and paranoias that
people have experienced since the dawn of consciousness.

I told no one but it have been obvious at times, for example when I came
into work with a cut on my forehead from a self-harm incident the
evening before. I did what I could to get through my part time job while
my life was shattered and my mind was being destroyed. This is "ego
death" in the precise meaning and the lay meaning btw.

My job involved reading a lot of mental health information. There was
also a good community. It was a unique therapeutic experience and a life
changing one.

It was as life changing as my first hospitalisation. At the time I'd
started on what should have been a promising career but through drink,
drugs and mental illness I fucked it up pretty quickly.

I understand why mental illness is an illness. The difference in
outcomes can be massive. My two oldest friends. On their 30th birthdays
both owned their own flats, one was a GP and the other worked in America
earning over $100,000. One of them had a major life crisis and did lots
of drugs but never received a diagnosis of mental illness.

I remember my 30th birthday. I had been planning to kill myself by then.
I came fairly close too. I was on incapacity benefit and living in
temporary accommodation. I'd managed to alienate most of my friends
through my behaviour when I was mad. Having been on such a high level of
medication for a 3 years meant it took me a while to readjust and it
wasn't a pleasant process. In fact it was hell. We went to the
Wetherspoons in Baker Street for the celebration. A few people turned up
but I think many of them would have secretly preferred I was dead at the
time.

That's why it's an illness. When I'm 'well' people like me. When I'm
'unwell' people dislike me and that affects my life. When I'm reckless I
do things that mess things up for years like take loans I don't need.
There are times I can't perform as well as my 'normal' counterparts. My
behaviour can be so bad I can instill feelings of hate and revulsion in
friends who've known me most of my life.

I can get anxious from one night without sleep because it's a big
warning sign. For many people it would be irrelevant. For someone who's
had to live through all this shit it can be worrying. The one thing I
depend on is clinging to that elusive thing that's called "insight".

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"