Psychotic

Yes, you read it right. I suppose it shocks me more than it shocks anyone else, but that’s normal, I guess. I didn’t think I was THAT insane.

I pretty much told my therapist everything. I told her all about Wonderhell and all about the “Bad Me”. She wrote it down and told my mother, “She’s talking in we’s”.

I’ve learned that Psychosis isn’t as bad as movies and tv make it out to be. I am not Norman Bates. {even though he did have Psychosis…NORMAN, MY BROTHER!} It’s just delusions and hallucinations. It can be caused by bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, and of course schizophrenia. {which I don’t have, no worries.} I have some pretty severe delusions and I sometimes have what I think might be hallucinations. I smell things and I see people staring at me and talking about me. Laughing, also. No one else hears it, so I’m assuming it’s just me. But my god, I swear they are.

Anyway, back to my fun facts on Psychosis. Psychotics and Psychopaths are different things. I’m a Psychotic. A Psychopath {sociopath, psychopathic personality disorder} is someone who doesn’t have the ability to from human connection. In other words, a fucking killing machine. My father was a Psychopath and I’m a Psychotic. How cute.

I suppose you want to hear a bit more about the delusions, don’t you? Alright. Why not jump right in? There is more than one of me. “Bad Me” “External Me” and “Logical Me” This will get real complicated real fast, so bear with me.

Picture a silhouette of a girl. {that’s me!} There’s an outline of golden yellow, glowing and strong. That’s external me. External me is the person I used to be. There’s nothing too horribly wrong with Ex Me. She’s pretty normal, as “normal” as I can be. She can be depressed sometimes, but it’s caused mostly by things in her world, the external world. This is easily fixed. But remember, she’s just the outline. Now we’ll move on to “Bad Me”.

Now if you will please picture the silhouette again, see that it is filled with a dark, sparkling, swirling purple. This is Bad Me. Notice how she fills the silhouette, so naturally, whatever she feels the whole body feels. She controls everything. She is the Red Queen of Wonderhell. I still haven’t figured out how she works. She won’t talk to me, no matter how much I pester her. If she’s in a bad mood {which is often} she’ll make me feel empty. I try to do all I can to make her happy. She really likes horror movies, she rewards me when I watch them with good feelings. She likes it when I take pills or if I do anything that’s generally naughty. No one really sees the bad me. Ex Me keeps her inside. The funny thing is is that they usually feel opposite emotions. If Ex Me is happy, Bad Me is usually angry. {I say angry because she’s too much of a control freak to resort to depression.} When my mother asks why I’m acting so sad, I get confused because I’m not, no not at all! I feel full. Usually when I have these “happy” episodes, three quarters of the way through Bad Me beats down Ex Me to show herself to the world. You haven’t seen mania until you’ve seen this.

My therapist asked if I ever want to kill someone out of anger. I told her I want to kill out of happiness. That’s Bad Me.

I want her to start talking but I’m afraid. I’m afraid if she talks she’ll tell me how to make her REALLY happy, and I’m afraid that it won’t be anything good. It’s not worth it, I know that. There have to be other ways to get through this.

My therapist is sending me to a psychiatrist that she thinks I’ll like. She said she might put me on anti-psychotics. I read up on the anti-psychotics and I’m not liking them at all. They’re pretty much to sedate you so you won’t do anything rash. I find it funny because isn’t that what I do already with my pain medication? But oh, I forgot…it’s a doctor. It’s okay because it’s a doctor. That makes it okay, see? Silly me.

But I find myself living by a certain song-lyric by a certain someone when it comes to situations like this. {having to do with medications and treatment and whatnot.}

I will swallow if it will help my sea-level go down, but I’ll come back to haunt you if I drown.

It’s always worth a shot. Sure, I may get really fat and lose a bit of brain mass, but it can’t be worse than thinking there are more than one of me, right?

Oh! that reminds me. There’s one more of me. She’s “Logical Me” That’s the one that thinks…or knows, I suppose, that none of this is logically possible. But the fact that she’s one of the three me’s is sort of ironic, no?

I can’t seem to figure out which one I’m always living in. I guess I’m just floating around within this silhouette, feeling it all at the same time. I’m sure you can imagine how intense that is.

Well, that’s all I have to say for now. I hope no one gets too concerned. Remember logical me. She wouldn’t allow me to do anything mad. She always makes me go tell someone if I feel…funny. I’ll be okay. This diagnosis doesn’t really change anything. I’m no crazier than I was before.

Rianne