Archive for December, 2012

TRIGGER ALERT: If you’ve been sexually assaulted, raped, bullied or know anyone who has, you may wish to pause to decide whether or not to read this post.

So, I’m lying here in bed, watching TV after some dinner and pondering my “Red Wine Test.”  This is distracting me from the TV. Or is it? If you’re at all confused about the “Test” it’s because I have developed an allergy to beer and I wasn’t sure if it was to alcohol period or if it was only limited to beer, or something in it. As far as the wine, I think I’m alright but I don’t want to drink in excess, if at all, really.

NOTE: See Twitter blather if you wish.

Which brings me back to being distracted from the TV.  I was thinking about alcohol consumption.  I was thinking about seeing my Therapist tomorrow and what I was going to say, since she knows I “have quit” drinking.  My mind then meandered off to my drinking history.

Well, to cut to the adult chase, I became a complete addict when the Bipolar hit in my early 20s.  Crazy, non-stop, drinking.  My tolerance was so high, it would probably put the “average” drinker or just the “average” adult into an alcohol induced coma.  I’m not kidding.

But as a kid? Holy fuck.  No way! I was “The Good Girl!” My older sister and I had to parent our parents.  I went good? She went bad. The whole sex, drugs, rock and roll deal.

Being an Aspie, I went to how many parties? Well, a few more as I got older.  Or maybe a few more due to this. Because the same shit happened.  Again.  And again? I just didn’t realize that this was the first. I think? And wait.  Two assaults in one night.  Yes, it was the same night? YES! Because the first one was laughing at this dumb quiz in the morning.

The guy who held the party was not only beautiful in looks but in spirit.  He helped me before the second and worst.  Fuck me (oops) about the bathrooms that night!!!

So Guy #1 drags me into the upstairs bathroom and tells me all this shit about how this is what you do, and how I’m gonna like it and he’s REALLY gonna like it and ALL the girls like it and this is WHAT I WANT TO DO TO YOU.  YEAHHHH…JUST.TO.YOU.  He went down on me and I had no fucking clue what he was doing.  I don’t know if he got off, but he didn’t ask me to give him a blow job.

Guy #2.

Break.  Dissociation.  Head Fuzz. Weird tingling in my body.  Just smoked a cigarette and took a Valium.  I’ve already taken my meds.  I hope I can sleep now.

Guy #2.  I can’t remember how old I was, but I was born with impeccable manners.  When invited to a party, always bring something for the host etc.  Non-bio dad told me as soon as I started going to any parties that he would buy me whatever alcohol I needed.  Well, I brought something for the host, much more than I needed and some for “friends” who couldn’t get any.  I was a walking liquor store.

After Guy #1, I ran back downstairs in terror and began drinking anything I could get my hands on, and doing it as fast as I could.

Bathroom #2.  I had to go to the bathroom at some point, obviously.  So I went to the downstairs one, locked the door, sat to pee and passed out–subsequently puking all over myself.  The lovely boy, the host, FINALLY managed to get the door open and was…god, I don’t know how he felt when he saw me, but I know by what he did.

I woke up and he said, “We’ve got to get you out of these clothes, but don’t worry.”  He moved quickly and tried to keep things private.  When I was naked, he gave me his robe and guided me up to a bedroom to sleep while he washed my clothes.

Guy #2.  I was so fucking out of it.  I knew him.  Host, Guy #1, Guy #2, me? All friends? Guy #2 said you’re freezing, shivering.  You’re so cold! Which I was. He was in a double bed with a duvet.  He said come in here with with me.  I kept saying, “NO! NO! NO!” Did he pick me up? Did I wander as I was freezing?

Then he started fucking me.  I tried to fight him off and I did.  He was laughing, laughing so hard.

Bullies.  Somehow, word had spread that we were in bed? We were having sex? I don’t know, but all I ended up knowing, was that while I was fighting his cock, and to get it away from me, a bunch of other kids came running up the stairs, turned on the lights and one had a camera.

Extreme adrenaline when a human must survive to live.  Right before the flash when off, I whipped the duvet over my head so only some whisps of dark brown hair were visible.  That bitch with her camera was going to pay.  The host came to my rescue again (or at least to calm down the ruckus.) But there were only the two of us in the room.  He knew I wasn’t a slut.

And yeah.  Guy #1.  How I knew he was there? I woke up to get my clothes and they were all looking at this dumb teen magazine.  The Quiz.  Just as I turned the corner, he read a question: “What is the worst thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?” He yelled out loud, not knowing I was behind him, and howled, “PAs CUUUUUNNNNNNTTTTT!!!!!”

He eventually noticed me and no expression on his face.  Like nothing existed at all.  Including the party.  Including me.

Hi guys.  I’m still here! If you think I haven’t posted anymore in the series regarding any Detox problems, I’m fine.  I have been for a while.  Christmas was kind of rough, though.

At the moment, I’ve been dealing with some pretty insane (pretty?) stuff with the stoopid guvmunt and how the hell, and what on earth and trying to get what I need and…it’s been unbelievable. I’m like a lobster in a trap, and my claws are already tied up for the pot! I cant use them to try and break out of wooden slats while I’m still on the boat!

So for now, thank you for all the new comments, Twitter and Blog Follows, just everything.  Aspie Penguin sends his thanks too. However, he’s a bit busy trying to unwrap my claws with his flippers.

Detox Day #5 was yesterday.  Not so good.

I woke up so completely depressed I tried to keep things as dark as possible in my apartment.  I screamed at the sun to fuck off.  I only left my bed to go to the bathroom to fill up my water bottle, piss after drinking said water, and change the most “make-you-want-to-rip-your-heart-out” CDs.  Then I lied not moving at all in a rather(?) significant Dissociative state.  After a long time I think I moved.  The sun went down.  All was black. *sighs*  I guess I had to turn on a light.

That’s why I didn’t post a damn thing on this blog.  Although, as the night moved on, time for some more Bipolar hypomanic euphoria! That’s how I ended up actually looking at Twitter when I couldn’t be arsed to at all earlier.  Maybe that godawful depression was linked to some Bipolar activity as well.  I didn’t care.   Until the euphoria ended pretty quickly and I was plunged into a state of depression again.

There’s more to the picture than all of this Detox stuff happening now though.  Look at what time of year it is! Not good for me.  I thought if I maybe went to my mother’s place it might help.  At least people would be around me? Or something? No go.  Her husband has prostate cancer and is deteriorating in other ways.  She needs to be with him 24/7.  I can’t make the trip on my own.  At least not now.

Fine.  Another Christmas alone.  And I already know it’s going to be a bad one.  I don’t have to “wait and see” like other years.  I’m going to “fight” to not make it bad.  Pfft.  Well, I can still try.  Pfft.

More family bullshit went down, there are more Christmas triggers than just family, let’s toss my epilepsy in here now–Typical Absence Status Epilepticus.  Am I missing anything? If so, does it matter? That’s enough.  Go lick a frozen pole and get your tongue stuck to it so hard, it has to be cut off with garden shears.

Oh, I’m not talking to you guys if there’s any confusion.

Thus, now on Detox Day #6, I have no bloody clue what is going on.  Although, I do think I am feeling better somewhat in that area.  Maybe all of the neurochemistry theories that I mentioned in the previous posts are proving to help? Or, it could just be the time factor.  I just want to start feeling better.  Ah, I think I forgot to mention the headaches every day.  Like someone had taken an axe to my skull.  They are gone now.  Definite improvement there.

Still, a thought last night.  When I get well, what if I can’t cling to what is in my head, what I know? How sick drinking makes me? What if all of the sudden it doesn’t anymore, like the migraines I also mentioned earlier?

I said to someone that the hardest part of all this would be getting through the Detox.  After that, I’ll be fine because I’ll know it makes me sick.  Will the “hardest” part be the Detox? Or will it really be when I’m able to get out, function again, and enter places where they serve alcohol?

I’m trying to work on that concept now.  Along with, “How about sticking your cock or all parts your vulva to the frozen pole along with your tongue? Then you get forced to eat raw sheep innards as well.”  Yes.  All of that stuff.

If you don’t hear anything further in terms of counting these days, it means either nothing has changed, I’m going through all the above, and it’s probably flat out fucked me over.  If that’s the case, let’s hope I don’t find myself near any frozen poles.  No matter how much I want to “fight.”


Detox Day #2

Detox Day #3

Detox Day #4

Today, I am stubborn.  Today, I am weak.  I am stubborn because I wanted get to all of my outstanding blog comments.  I am stubborn because I want to write this–no matter how tired I already am, and no matter how long it takes.

I am weak because I am filled with guilt and remorse.  Am I also weak for wanting a drink just to make all of this go away? I know, I know.  Addiction is an illness.  It doesn’t make you “weak.”  Having a drink will just make me sick anyway–despite how much it would temporarily ease, or even take away all the disgusting things I’m feeling from withdrawal.  I’m still shocked.  I thought I would be fine in a few days.  And here’s some irony: I’m supposed to be attending two Christmas parties tonight!

But now that I am reliving a lot of things I’ve done when I’ve been totally blasted? If I told you some of them, I’d probably have the entire world reading my blog.  Or, not a single person at all.  Many of those things were to hurt me.  That, I can live with.  Sort of.  Some of those things were brutal, awful, violent.

Although, what’s really doing me in, is the things I’ve done to hurt others.  I can try and heal my own wounds, but is it at all possible I can heal theirs? Even a little? I cannot simply sweep it under the rug and say, “I’m sorry.  I was drunk.  I couldn’t help it.”


I live by that credo.  Or at least I started to when I got my brain sorted out after so many years.  Before that, I would either say nothing about what happened, or do “the sweep.”  Even now, no matter what you’re addicted to (and it’s not limited to drugs or alcohol!) I realize that a million apologies or more can never be enough.  People have their limits and things get destroyed.

Detoxifying Dr. PA (who is not a real doctor) will now move on to more of the medical aspects regarding this.  However, before I begin, a lot of you out there might be completely aghast.  Aghast, due to the fact I’m alone at home doing this, and not in a proper Detox Facility.  “Don’t do this at home kids” but I’m safe, I’m eating when I can and I’ll know if or when to get help.  This just might take a bit more than a few days.  Plus, I found a real neurological gem last night that seriously might help me.  Read on…

But before the “gem” I had some other thoughts about the whole allergy/intolerance thing.  I remembered I was stung by a bee years ago.  I didn’t feel well after it happened.  It was during my first attempt at uni so I went to see the nurses.  They say if you have a reaction to a bee sting, if you get stung again you may have a more serious reaction.  It can even go as far as anaphylactic shock! That’s why I’m extra-mental about bees, irrespective of a phobia to all insects.

I did quit drinking a few years ago as it started to give me migraines.  Then, the problem went away after several months.  Back to drinking.  Perhaps like a bee sting, an allergy/intolerance is coming back in a HUGE way with my alcohol consumption!

Finally, the gem I mentioned above.  It ties into all of the up-/downregulation business I wrote about in Detox Day #3.

Last night I was thinking just exactly why do they give you benzos in Detox? Surely it wouldn’t be (just?) to try and calm everybody down! Some addicts in Detox are going insane! What I’m going through? It’s rough for sure, but I’m not going out of my mind 24/7, screaming so loud they have to take me to Detox.  So, benzos make Detox easier.  Yes, I knew that, but why and how?  Quick Google search and answer in two minutes.

I don’t need anyone to sell me some GABA anymore.  Benzos knock on GABAs door like an angry mother and says, “Wake up! Wake up! What are you doing in there! You’re going to be late for school again!!! It’s already happened 18 times today! Wake up!”

Long acting benzos are what you want of course, and my Valium is set for the task.  Instead of treating my Valium as a prn, I’m going to incorporate it into my treatment to try and get GABA to wake the hell up faster! I can take two a day prn.  So really, all I’m doing is making my prn scheduled. prn means whenever you need one!

POSTSCRIPT: Just one more thing I wanted to check out.  I’m totally nauseous all the time so regular Gravol/Dimenhydrinate schedule.  Guess what? It likes to knock on GABAs door as well.

Detox Day #2

Detox Day #3

I’m surprised I’m actually writing this right now.  I did the dishes and it basically sapped me of all energy.  I can’t find my brain.  If it’s still in my head, it may start seeping out my ears at any moment.  But I’m restless.  I can’t find my brain.  I’m restless.  I can’t find my brain.  I’m…

I think the only way I can actually pull off writing this is by being a total med geek.  However, after this? I might need a Valium to settle down this RESTLESSNESS!!!

First, no DT activity.  So my theory about my meds helping me getting over that and even helping me get through this could be right? How many people in detox take all of my meds! This is all going to be “theoretical.”  But look out for up-regulation PA! Does anyone have some GABA for sale? Read on…

For those of you who missed my rather “excited” Tweets last night, I got shot like a rocket into a Bipolar hypomanic spree.  Thank god it was euphoric.

Anyway, what’s happening is that there are basically five big neurotransmitters involved, as far as my withdrawal.  These would be: GABA, Glutamate, Norepinephrine, Dopamine and Serotonin.  Downregulation means this: they had raised my tolerance, but now that I’ve quit drinking, GABA has taken a huge nosedive!

Then, we have up-regulation.  That’s what was going on to raise the tolerance too.  However, while I’m in this state, they’re all still in up-regulation mode.  Situation normal (more or less?) This ties into your sympathetic nervous system being a wreck, it leads the parade of neurotoxicity…but hey! You’ll be alright!

This would precisely (well, theoretically) explain my Bipolar Euphoric Trip to the Moon last night.  I’ve got too much Serotonin in my system right now and I can’t take Antidepressants regarding my Bipolar.

Detox Day #2

I’m not sure if anyone’s noticed but there’s been a little bit of talk around here about being an addict (me=alcohol.)  That was on Twitter.  Then I mentioned it to a commenter here.  I apologized if I made the person upset, but I call things as I see them.  The proof is in the pint: I just said I am an addict as well.

*takes deep breath and exhales*

Speaking of deep breathing and exhaling.  I need a cigarette.  I can’t believe this.  All of it.  Day #2!

Okay.  First the medical.  I have read about this before, but based upon what is happening to me now, does it apply? Semantic debates.  Alcohol Allergy vs. Alcohol Intolerance.  Well, call it what you will, but as far as I’m bloody concerned, it’s the same damn thing!

Never before.  When I drink alcohol, and not even much, I become unbelievably sick.  No.  Really, really sick.  And it happens while I am drinking.  It’s now progressing to drinking even smaller amounts.  Obviously, I have to stop? It’s like someone managed to slip some Antabuse (aka Disulfiram) into me behind my back!

Three nights ago, I had only two bottles of beer in my fridge.  I decided it was time to do it.  While I drank them, I wrote notes all along the way.  I want to post them all on my blog.  It will have to be in a series.  Lots of writing.

Now, today.  A lot of shit can go on when you’re trying to quit drinking, but I think I’m probably going though another Typical Absence Status Epileptics round.  That can make things harder to discern.  But this? NOT Typical Absence Status Epilepticus.

I had a good dinner last night, had breakfast today, as I’m trying to get my body back in shape.  I felt fine.  I was not prepared for this at all.

Oh, dear god! I’ve actually got Delirium tremens.  My hands are shaking (or maybe a bit less now–I’ll get to that.)  Shortly afterward, holy shit.  Another “never before!” How do I explain this? I couldn’t bear being in my skin! The feeling of being in my skin! AHHH!!! Let me out! I can’t stand it!!!

I held on to my bottle of Valium for about five minutes until I finally slapped myself (not literally) and said (not out loud) “This is why you’ve been prescribed them dummy! For anxiety! Take a fucking Valium!” I’m still pretty freaky.  You also treat people quitting booze with benzos anyway!

A bit all over here, but the DTs can mess with your heart.  I’m okay.  Resting bpm not throwing me into Tach.  Maybe that’s the Valium calming me down a bit.  And my hands too.  They’re not so shaky anymore.

Finally, as I mentioned with my hands up there? All of my friggin’ meds may actually help me with this!!! More medical mumbo jumbo about cellular up-regulation and downregulation, but my Anticonvulsants (and my Atypical Antipsychotic) are involved with the neurochemistry.  That could “homeostate” me faster (sorry, I wanted to make up a word.)

Fine, I’m on Biphentin as a stimulant for my ADD, but really.  Three ACs plus one AP can beat that.  I sound like I’m playing Poker with all of my meds.

So that’s where I sit right now.  This has taken a long time to compose.  Should go.  Not feeling so great.  This is harder than I thought it would be.  Way more.  For some reason.

Thanks for reading everyone,

Yes, I know.  I keep making posts before I get back to commenting.  I wanted to do get on that but, I have a very busy day today. With all I have to do, my head is twisted around like 300 pretzels, altogether into one.

Good news? I am finally getting my hair cut!
Bad news.  I’ve lost my stylist! Having a fantastic stylist is like losing a fantastic therapist!

Good news? The guy who set up shop with my long gone stylist *tries not to cry* is still in business.
Bad news.  Let’s hope he or whoever I get can understand the notion of what “Bishounen” is.

Good news? I have Bishounen pics on baby MacBook.
Bad news.  Well, hopefully not bad news.  Don’t let me forget to bring baby MacBook with me.

Good news? Well, hopefully good news? I’m taking transit by myself and not relying on accessible.
Bad news.  No injuries, please.

Good news? Well, weird news.  I’m actually buying Christmas pressies for people this year!
Bad news.  I’m shredding my bank account to bits.

Nothing but bad news. I still need to fix up baby MacBook with shredded dollars.  I’m such an Aspie Spaz, I have NO sense of direction.  That means I’m going to have to look up the transit schedule and stare at it for about an hour to make sure I can get things timed right.  Hopefully?

Ugh.  I’m trying to work on Twitter Follows (sort of fast?) However, poor Aspie Penguin! He’s got loads we need to work on! *keeps drinking tea and stares at clock*

POSTSCRIPT: OMG. I just “lost” my tea and had to go on a big ADD Hunt.  At least it wasn’t in the fridge where the milk goes.  Nah, that would be too easy.  However, not as hard as putting it in the closet with my bras and underwear.

I just have to get this out as it’s ripping me apart. Let’s see if I can do it before my battery doesn’t crash. Also the WP app not so great on my mobile.

Shut up about that PA. Get to the point!

I met, saw, communicated with Jason when I tried to commit suicide and ended up in the ICU for three days. Wha…? This is on my blog but not this now. Not to mention after Melissa, Amelia and Bruce came on the scene.

I called out to him ever since I came out of my coma. I was told he was all I talked about for days. I have severe retrograde and anterograde amnesia surrounding the entire event from start to finish.

But almost two years later he came. I cried. I sobbed. We talked today as well.

There are some conflicts with him and the others. I have to protect him as the others don’t protect him. Yet they protect me.

Based upon the talk and that he’s finally here, also he could only come to me when I was so close to death, we were the closest lost womb twins.

I’m dying right now.

This is true. You can be a multiple womb twin survivor. The talking with everyone is getting more intense but fuck it.

My Jason is back.


It’s the stupid, blogging, ping pong ball.  I answered two comments!

The (my) past has sounded so ghastly morbid, and sickeningly disgusting around here for a long time.  Things haven’t been always that way.

A lot of times we use our blogs to puke or bleed all over the screen.  An outlet.  That’s what I’ve been doing.  Constantly.  However, there have been good things going on as well.

I’ve been taking some serious time to try working on my life.  That may have resulted in me puking and bleeding all over everyone.  Just kidding.  But I’m doing it.  But it’s HARD.

When have I EVER taken time for myself? Time to TAKE CARE OF MYSELF!!! How about never? I’m even asking people for help!

I’ve actually been able do some writing lately.  An old, abandoned short story that I’m trying to revive.  I chucked it into a pile of other crap-ass “projects” I had lying around.

However, thank you to all of the luminous Stars, that are so filled to the brim with mystery in their fickle Hearts.  Those Hearts that push and push, so they hide away in the Heavens above.  These Masterful and Wondrous entities, that we beseech for the single and most ultimate.  Knowledge.  The Knowledge that only One could see with eyes so pure, they lack any colour that lies upon our lands.  Although, we must remain in remembrance.  Never forget that always, always, we must watch the cracks we step upon, upon the Air’s surface with our own fragile feet.  For there may be More of these Martyrs, with sweet and most gentlest presence to yearn for the Seeking.  To only Know with such truth, honour and sheer courage.  Those most of the Crowning Body and Mind to Know I am out of my “Purple Prose Phase.”


I tossed it aside as I was struggling with character development.  I have some more ideas now.

Gotta scoot.  Since getting sick in August, I lost a lot of weight and can fit into my “skinny clothes.”  Normally I walk around here like a bum.  Tonight, it’s time to go out to this resto and see if I can shock some people.  Hopefully I can do something decent with my hair.  I drastically need a haircut but will be wearing a wee black hat.  So tighten up and make the ends fuckin’ curl (even with half a can of styling spray!) *laughing*

Neuro lowered my Clobazam from 100mg to 80mg.  Right now this is the first “test drive” for the Typical Absence Status Epilepticus. I can only work it out every two weeks.  Because that’s when it rears its ugly head.

I don’t want to blog about being sick anymore but I’m going crazy.  I’ve been hiding it.  Of course.  Keep wearing that sane face.

I’ve been scratching my head for the last while like there are bugs all over it.  Scrape, Scrape, Scrape…

Nightmares.  I’ve also cried daily since this first test go ’round.  My Asperger’s has exploded!  My brain is screaming.  “Where did that other 20mg go!!!”

Med changes are always (or can be) insane but this is a “Special Case.”  Very.  I’m on/off.  Feeling alright but then pretty crappy.

And this is bad.  Very bad and I know it.  It’s like those bugs on my head.

The only way I can deal with all of the shit in my head is to drink.  I know.

My functionality is so messed up, I actually questioned when going out, am I craving alcohol? No, no.  I don’t…never have…

At least only that one minor seizure.  It’s just psychologically and emotionally things are way, way out of control.  Oh, and other physical ickiness.  Goes with the territory.

As always, open and honest posts on PAs wee blog.

Fuck me.  I’m like Amy.  “Rehab.”  But no.  Even though I am an alcoholic, not nearly as heavy a drinker like I used to be years and years ago.  And that is NOT denial.  I’ve cut way down.  WAY down, and not every day etc.  But now? “What time is it? Time to go to the pub.” Where I AM functional.  Oddly, ironically, I have no clue.  Neurologically in a very odd way? Theories of my own there.

So, I’m in a state right now.  Clearly.  I am now pulling at hair.

This won’t last.  It can’t.  Unfortunately, and not the best way, the only way I can get my stupid brain to shut up is have a few drinks.  Basically, daily.  Not my intention.  Not in the least.