Kismet Arts Tangent

I found a lot to be excited about at the asian art museum. Too much. Can’t focus still. My vision isn’t blurry, I think that I would like to read more than write today.

I learned some good habits from my mom this weekend, but also just plain mimicry, which I think she could tell. I need to find my own way. Not her way. It’s hard when mom comes to visit and she sees the patterns of her father and my father and simply confirms what is there. Bipolar and Depression.

Ugh. I don’t want to be a label and I want to be functioning, but my genetic lottery is downright awful. Must learn how to function. Keep it together. I need more friends. It’s hard when you have a mental illness because it’s the only way I connect these days. I live a life of solitude surrounded by people. They will never understand the battle that rages within. The coping skills I have to learn are there, surmountable, but nonetheless a hard road to go.

I’m a curious being, but I’ve turned it into navel gazing. Maybe it’s always been this way. I’ve always been obsessed with journalism, particularly blogging and now it’s a matter of working with people, getting them interested in what I’m interested in. I believe in a way out. Advocacy is a way to connect with people. Or I must simply read and be an eternal student in my way through life.

Board games have been a pasttime. Albeit it’s a hard road to go down. I’m repeating myself again. Let’s not get into that.

I’m in the worse possible way the worst possible way. I can’t function. Can’t think. I’m broken as all can be. This writing is difficult but let’s try to get 300 words. Use it or lose it right?

I am apt to write only about my condition. It’s hard not getting enough sleep. Weird things start to happen to mind and body. I’m so scared for the future. I’m a broken record. Just saying and thinking the same things. Must find new hobby. Concentration is shot.

I don’t think I’ll be able to return to the workforce any time soon. I just want to move to a more burden free facility. My caretakers don’t deserve this. I’m restless, irratable and just scared that this is the rest of my life.

A page about my experience.

My time in the psych ward the second time was really gruesome. I was being a little liar and told myself, let’s get all the bracelets we can thinking that it was going to protect us from the cold dark world of the psych ward.

It was a troubling time over all. I’m trying to write this paper and I’m having a tough time. My focus has dulled over the past month and a half. Was I tramatized by my experience? Would that cause some form of mental retardation?

I’m trying really hard and it’s not coming out as eloquently as it used to. My brain is exhausted and rusty and I’m scared about how it’s going/not going. Please send help for my brain. I need answers, questions and all sorts of mental exercises to put me back to where I was intellectually. This is making me question my understanding of the world and my place in it if a few paragraphs is all I can muster. I will practice once every while hoping to get to the rest of this.

I’m completely distracted and slow and I need some help finding my way out of this maze. There’s literally a block from where I thought I would be and where I am. Let’s just keeep practicing stream of conciousness and see if it makes sense later.

Dmitriy denies the existance of yellow words. He doesn’t want to hear about the facets of the way I look at the world. This is tiring my brain. I have a hard time focusing on one task for very long. This is a problem for conversation, jokes, mental stabilty, breakfast. I think that it’s not a very good problem to have because I’ve spent years surrounding myself with intellectuals just to blow it.

Let’s be creative and doing things all the time. Let’s try to be more active. I can’t sleep but I can do everything else. How to focus? How to stay sharp? I was feeling so upbeat this morning. I finally got sleep and now I think I am struggling with basic concepts. Life is not progressing linearly and it sucks. It feels like someone has sprayed my brain with pesticides and now every fruit is poisoned.

Everything is metaphorical and it’s a crying shame.

My first test from my psychiatryst: Attempt going off Meds, Just Kidding, but Adding Medical Cannabis.

The first morning, she wasn’t panicked. It was in the office of her psychiatryst, Doctor J, when he said “I have Katarina here. She was sick from some medications I prescribed. I can assure you she is safe and not about to harm herself or others.”

This is a very serious program I just quit. Got the hebe hebes when they talked about illness and prescription thing. I’m getting sleepy. Let’s see who wins.

Complimented blog, shared a high five at a joke “I’m kind of a schizophrenic doctor.”,”I’m kind of a schizophrenic patient.”

Today, I realized that I have had a long period of dormant thinking that I’m ready to tap into. The degree is communication. The road is long and difficult because I have to rebuild skills that have been dormant for some time. I’m thinking that I would like to start a program soon to help me get back into the art of taking tests and going to school.

I will start at the community college level and take a class that inspires me and work from there. I’m having a hard time focusing. I still think that I need medications for focus to help me with this transition.

Slowed thinking is a big problem and I will need to be reinspired with life and it’s invigorating to know that there’s hope.

Today I had a micro manic attack and utilized techniques I learned in my program. I am guessing things actually do work out. Even if it’s a little tedious.

I will learn not to complain and learn how to love the bomb. It has been one of the hardest things in my life to stay awake these past couple of days. I’m not sure how long I will last in the program, but I’d like to show up tomorrow. Hopefully, everyday will be like that.

I realized that blogging about everyday is manic behavior and it needs to stop. My need to express myself does not outweigh the human dignity of private health care information. I will go dark on this subject for now and for a longer time.

As a communications major, I’ve been consumed by my communication, primarily broadcasting. It’s been too much and I’ve been demonstrating my ignorance and inconsideration by continuing and converting this blog that I hold so dear into a tainted hospital microphone.

I’m ready to get back to graphic design not change my life to fit my illness. I hope to have the courage to find my way back into graphic design but for now, I just want to get healthy and manage my medication dosages so that I can live the life I know I deserve. Signing off from the health front. Please find what information you hold dear and secret and keep it close to you but far from others. They don’t need to worry about you unnecessarily. You’re not dying, I’m not dying. Not now. This is why Facebook is a walled garden. It’s about the best and funnest activities we are up to, not the dark gritty innards that should be left to a private storage for a conversation with your doctor and your doctor alone.

Day 2 of my treatment was a doozy. Essentially, my new phsychiatrist on staff is a fair but deadly opponent (not really deadly but stern). He was offering no relief except that I can take my Abilify anytime I want (but it should be regularly.) So tongiht I’m going to have Abilify at night and see how that helps.

The inmates and I are beginning to warm up to each other. It’s difficult being female in a room of males. The social workers are female too, but I can’t really relate to their brand of femininity. I’m at my wits end with group “discussions” and anger management exercises. I can’t believe I have to go back (but I will.) I did learn some coping strategies and fancy ways to tell people respectfully behaviour changes I would like to see.

Formula… I feel blank when you blank because blank. Would you be willing to blank? I am making a lot of judgements about my treatment in this post. In discussion they said not to quit any prescription drug “cold turkey” because the body is a delicate system. I asked then why ask us to quit Street Drugs cold turkey. To that, they were like, good question…. uhhh….errr… ooh … um… This place is full of logistical holes it’s going to give me those icky Stepford nightmares. I know they are trying their hardest and maybe that’s the problem.

My new psychiatrist also told me that my blurred vision shouldn’t be a thing from Abilify so I’m a little panicked. I’ve been feeling nappy all day.

There’s no doubt about it. My first day in partial hospitatlization made me realize that I am very sick.

Some of the other inmates were helpful and encouraging. I need to get some sleep to even make the program worth doing. The nightly panic attacks will come but at least I have ambien. That gives me 3-5 hours of black out sleep. I wake up to my worst nightmare which is worst than a nightmare because at least nightmares let you sleep through some of it.

I’m proud of myself for not letting them get to me. They are just two hours of my day. I’ve been doing a lot of clockwatching. Being in a hospital environment sucks because of all the code color interruptions. Especially when they go into specifics: Code Green, 40 year old woman. Code Blue, transfusion.

I’m writing this with blurred vision. I can’t wait to get help of any kind. Something new at least offers hope. Tomorrow, I meet with my new psychiatrist. Peace be to you and to me.