There must be something “off” with my meds. Today I admitted to my therapist (the only person I’ve admitted it to until now) that lately I get these random impulses/thoughts about killing myself. They’re really strange because I can easily rationalize why I don’t want to do that, but I’ll get a random thought like “Hey I could down all these pills easily.” or “I could drive my car off the road into a tree, just like that.” Or yesterday, I was in a restaurant and a cop stood near me with a thigh holster and I had the urge to just take the gun -not to hurt myself or anyone else, just to take it. It was a strong urge I had to fight. It makes no sense. It’s scary shit. Otherwise, I’m doing well. Yeah that sounds funny but in between these occasional lapses in sanity I’m doing well. Therapist and I think that it’s got to be med/chemical imbalance related because otherwise I’m really positive and things are going well (getting back to my old sexual, slutty self, but that’s another blog entry). Therapist offered to call my psychiatrist about it while I was there in therapy and I took her up on it. I just don’t want to deal with it so I’d be likely to just wait until my psych appointment next Monday rather than try to get something earlier. Now I’m trying to get a morning appointment before work sometime this week. And I’m trying to keep my head together.
I met up with the Irishman today and I was scared to wait for him at the train station because I read a story about someone jumping in front of a train nearby yesterday. I was scared I’d get that impulse again and do something rash. I did wait on the platform for him, but I made a conscious decision to sit away from the edge and keep myself ON the platform. I didn’t get the urge, but I was plenty anxious worrying that I would get the urge. This is weird shit and now that I’ve vocalized what’s going on I’m terribly anxious about it. I’m so scared I’ll feel compelled to do something rash and give in. For now I’m doing a great job of realizing how bizarre these thoughts are immediately and making a conscious decision to not act on them, but as my therapist pointed out all it takes is a matter of seconds for something bad to happen in these instances. I feel crazy. I hate feeling crazy. I had an incredible fear of going back to the mental hospital this morning in therapy (I was in for three months when I was 16, thanks to depression). I haven’t had that fear in years, but it felt possible. Scarily possible.
So now I’m going to keep it together as best I can and see my psychiatrist as soon as I can. On the outside everything looks fine. I’m sure Davey has no idea I’ve had these thoughts (although now that I’ve come out with it I plan to tell him about it tonight, although I really hate to worry him and I know he’ll worry). I’m sure the Irishman had no idea what a lunatic I feel on the inside while we hung out today. Funny thing is, sexually I’m feeling like my old self again and it makes me really happy. I got some good work-related news recently that made me very happy. And this weekend with Davey was just wonderful. So why am I having random thoughts of grabbing a cop’s gun in the midst of it?
Comments