Hello everyone,
My psychosis has been at bay for months on Serequel, even after lowering it significantly; but it's creeping back in. There are some mild hallucinations, more auditory than anything else; however, the visual are more vivid. Right now, I keep seeing shadows and spirits passing by outside my room. Delusions are present, and "she" is back. I'd rather not explain it all right now. Thankfully, most of the time I can tell that's my disorders acting up on me - though, it only helps a bit with the fear - and move on. I've had really bad nights as well, where, to quote a description I wrote on a blog:
"At its worst, I mumble to myself, push words together to make a new one, speak in erratic sentences, and sometimes rhyme. My overall state is irritable, extremely moody, unpredictable, easily set off, and no impulse control. Banging my hand, punching the tables and walls to hurt myself, kicking things as I pass, screaming (a lot) at others and them. Having panic attacks when they're right there, breathing really heavily, crying, rages, lashing out at myself and others. Sometimes, my very expression changes and I get this paranoid, deranged look in my face. I laugh witch-like for no reason."
I really don't know how to put it into words. The irritability and instability, the unpredictable and easily set-off nature of my mood is the worst part. To add to that, I just have no impulse control, AT ALL. Worse even than when I'm manic (I'm Schizoaffective). It leads me to do all those things.
Not that long ago, I had one of those nights, and wrote a semi-aware poem titled, "
She's Back". I saved it, and upon feeling more stable, refused to look at it. I was scared; I was just not not myself. Tonight, I read it and just began crying afterward. I'm scared that I'll be like that all the time - again! It's a terrifying state to be in that usually gets me hospitalized, and I'm scared. Scared mostly just how psychotic I can get, and this even isn't the worst it. It's like when I look at poems I wrote during my worst periods and in the clutches of sexual abuse and parental chaos. It tears up all the wounds again, except the hurt and pain is added that this could happen at any moment right, with just a little added stress.
I really don't like to self-pity, and I'm sorry to burden you; but I need a lot of support right. Just reassurance mainly, with maybe a bit of personal experience and advice thrown in. Should I try to reduce my stress-points right now until I'm stable? Bring the Serequel back to a higher dosage? Any coping tips for when/if it does get bad?
Just so you guys get a better understanding, here are samples of my writing when I'm not psychotic:
http://poemspainandhealing.wordpress...am-a-survivor/
http://www.facebook.com/note.php?sav...d=408513176385
"
Pain Resting Within
by [and (C) ] Erika Svenson
There’s a pain resting within me
that wants to eat me alive
chew up all my insides
and destroy each of my face paint lies
that help me keep alive
I try to survive through the day
smiling and putting on a huge play
but the paint is chipping
and props all breaking
so the production is starting to decay
With my act gone wrong
I have nothing left to hide behind
shattering to many pieces
with the whole world waiting in line
to watch me finally cry.
Embarrassed by my perceived weakness
I shake with the self-hatred
and head full of shame
wishing the whole world
would just leave me and go away
Holding back a stream of tears
I wake up saying I’ll face this day
knowing that in the end
I’ll just be left alone
to crumble into tiny bits
It’s now gotten to the point
where I just can’t take another second
of this nightmarish thing known as life
so with a tinge of evil in my eyes
I destroy what’s left of my mind
Burning down the remnants of
what used to be a good life
I open up my eyes and mouth
to let out a bloodcurdling scream
and finally let myself cry.
A surrounding world of destruction
I sit alone with the rubble
a fallen empire I at last destroyed
because the pain within me finally
won.
....and this is what I wrote while psychotic.
The light in the room is on and bright;
but I can only feel the spreading night,
the paranoia draining me like a parasite,
I fall to my knees and pray to stay alive.
Everyone else seems strangely calm to me,
going through life as they all usually do:
stressed out to edge and afraid of flight
both the bird-like and spiritual kind.
It's as if they exist on a universe far from here,
blind to the nightmare I experience even
in the middle of your always too bright day,
leaving me frantically panicky insane.
I know she's here again and she's said her name:
Maria the old lady who loves to hate (me).
We have unfinished business is what she claims,
and the finale is only yet to begin.
Evil has found its way to my house
and unlike last time the key to my room.
There is no safety or escape for me,
and I am subject to their pleasantly doom.
She's watching me through every mirror and bulb,
and no to mention those shadows, souls and demons, too,
and the reincarnated victims out to seal my pain.
They all work for her to go after me.
My world is dictated by her wild control,
and I am at mercy to the delight she carries out.
No amount of praying can save my soul,
because her dark has fogged even the light.
So terrified all I can do is sway and laugh,
mumble and shout and shorten response,
and hope this delusion just goes away;
but wait, if I say it's a delusion she'll get angry
and slash through my back,
while smiling at every shriek and bleed,
because I disobeyed and that's how she is.
Well.
Goodnight.
With Love,
Erika