Archive for May, 2012
We all “lose it” but how do we find it or recover it? Maybe you do; maybe you don’t. Maybe you get it back for a bit, or maybe you never do.
Excuse me while I change this song. It’s interfering with me trying to recover any semblance of that thing called a mind. Mine.
I’d really like to tell you all what’s going on. Sorry. I need a smoke now. I’ll be back. But deep parts of me wish I wouldn’t.
Okay, back now. Another seizure today. It’s been almost one year to the day I lost the most important med in my epilepsy arsenal. But you guys know all about that.
Why Sherlock’s sleeping (or even dead) is because the epilepsy is simply surface stuff. There is more boiling inside me.
And I can’t say it here. Support elsewhere? I can try, but limited supply. Thus, losing a mind.
I wrote this when I was actively dissociating not long ago. Or rather, why don’t you tell me what you think I was doing! There are a few, other small “factors” where some might jump up and say, “That’s it! That’s why!” Nope. *shakes head*
I’ll let the words speak for themselves, and I’ll let my own experience speak for me.
I have left everything unedited, exactly as I wrote it. However, I have added some paragraph spacing wherever possible so it’s easier to read. It was written in one big “chunk.”
And speaking of “chunks?” I have no idea how long this lasted. My DP/DR (dissociation etc.) for my epilepsy is markedly different from that of my PTSD and Dissociative Amnesia issues.
Am I dissociating? Was fine earlier when pint was inch fuller and hadn’t touched it. The grief stuff triggered it later? TASE? No cognitive impairment as reading and doing the grief work. —- But could be hitting as eyes blurry = TASE. But gone. And not drunk gone — did take x gravol after first pint.
Can’t get grip on “now.” The present. Where I am relative to time but more space and awareness. I’m not in the present, somehow. I’m not where I am period. Lost in my own environment. I cannot connect with it, but I can talk, interact with people. I can’t hold onto or even find where I presently am.
I cognitively (know physically, visually) where I am but I can’t “feel” it. My brain takes me away from it to a place where I don’t even know. No matter hard with what awareness I have, I try to bring myself back to I “know” where I am but I can’t do it. I’m outside of me and I can’t reach me.
I’m in two places at the same time but I can only, barely hang on to that “physical” environment. What I see, even some cognitive as I come here all the time, I know the the geography. Things like that, but even those pieces in my brain are weak. It won’t stop and I don’t even know how long I’ve been feeling like I can’t reach myself, how long it’s been going on.
When will I come back. Soon I hope. This feeling (or even non-feeling) is too much to bear. Amazing to write this as brain has almost stopped completely and body almost paralytic.
I couldn’t get to posting about this on the exact day. It was May 17th!
No matter how much I think stigma busting is so important, there’s a little voice inside me whispering. It always says the same thing regarding populations like this, and many others. The voice says every day should be this day!
I know it is considered to be so in the hearts of these populations, and those that support them. The worst “counter-argument” I hear a million times is, “Well, why don’t we have a Heterosexual Day? Why don’t we have a special day for being straight?” I try to keep my mouth glued shut and sit on my hands so I don’t deliver a quick blow.
It’s not so much the statement itself. Sure! Go nuts! Have someone organize your “Straight Day” with a big parade, lots of balloons and what not. BOOM! Your logic is flawed. What upsets me is more the tone of how they say it. The bubbling anger deep down inside. The disdain, even though it might be slight and barely undetectable, it’s definitely present.
So, we have to keep hammering it into the heads of the prejudiced idiots out there. They need to know that every human being is still a precious human being–no matter what! That said, we do have to raise issues and draw attention to them. The stigma has unfortunately not been busted yet.
That shouldn’t keep us from moving forward, though. Someone has to keep speaking out.
“If it is to be, it is up to me.”
~William H. Johnsen
We can do this.
Uh, yeah. Me again. Sorry to keep you still waiting. If you’re at all frustrated, you have NO idea how much I am!
I just checked my temperature and that’s what it is. 103 degrees. I think that means I’m pretty sick. It’s been over two weeks. Well, two weeks until I got the antibiotics.
The antibiotics (that severely dope me up) may be finally, giving me some relief for the gut, but another problem. I woke up yesterday feeling like an ice pick was continually being stabbed into my right ear. I thought Sharon Stone had gone mad and was stalking me like I was Michael Douglas. God. If I had to be stalked as a celebrity, could I at least be an attractive one?
Ear infections are very serious for me. Huge history as a kid, but in 1999, I had an infection in the same one that blew my ear drum apart. Forget the pain of an ice pick. That was nothing. Forget hearing, too. Once finally treated, they were so worried about hearing loss, testing ordered for that. I can hear. I think?
Now I have antibiotic drops for my ear. Helping a bit. Not so ice-pickey, but sore. More like the other end being shoved in?
So, I’m not lollygagging, kids. Although, in some sort of delirious state, I thought I was actually going to shut down my blog. Divine Prophecy? *smirks*