Archive for February, 2015
Sometimes that’s all you can do when you get a Voicemail Message that a friend might die. Or be dying.
Should a better option be just no sound? Sit in silence?
I haven’t decided yet.
Hearing the news has thrown me into an Aspie Tailspin. I don’t know which would make me more overloaded and overstimulated than I already am.
I think silence would kill me until I go to bed. I’ll choose music.
I kept holding my little AA Chip I got today after my first Meeting. No. I kept holding it ALL DAY.
And crying. And crying. And crying. And crying.
And smoking. And smoking. And smoking. And smoking.
We’ll deal with that addiction later. Although, Sweetie GP has a Clinic to help with that.
Holy, crap! Multiple Doctors working in the same office and they have Clinics to help you with everything and they’re all in the same office.
The building is also a high rise with other occupants. Quite.
This is going to be rambly as all get out. Or get up? Ouch.
I took my meds pretty early hoping to pass out like a bomb. Huh? Passing out wouldn’t sound like a bomb would it? I don’t know. I pass out quietly.
Slow. No? I broke my role of only two Valium a day to three to kick my sleep meds in the arse if they don’t kick in after a long time.
It’s okay that I do this though, kids. No abuse of my meds. All my Doctors know I do this.
Finally! But very fitful. Then a few hours later? 0300hrs? Oh, man!
Had to go to the bathroom but MIGRAINE!!! Gulped my Maxalt but after that, I knew that going back to sleep would be impossible.
I’m so gone. I don’t think I can write anymore. Proofing this will be impossible. I think you guys will get it though.
When my Insomnia gets beyond control, I find I can usually (or possibly?) get some winks before sunrise. Maybe I’ll try that.
Fuck my ankle. Fuck my sanity.
When I walked in the door, I almost fell, shaking and crying into a tiny foetal position on the floor–after one person said, “Hello.”
Fuck my Asperger’s while I’m hand flapping, and head twisting, pulling at my clothes etc. in the meeting.
I did say I had Asperger’s to everyone.
*pauses for cigarette to continue de-freaking while stomach feels like an Olympic Gymnast*
I was new and wanted to come back. Also, literally had my last drink(s) yesterday so I received my “24 Hours” Chip.
If you don’t know, they give them out to Members for various lengths of sobriety. So, hold my lucky chip in my hand and no more booze!
Uh, I think it’ll be a bit harder than that.
I have to somehow relax. I’m still merrily going through Detox and Withdrawal at the moment as well.
That’s the tough part. Or is for me. Being a Functional Alcoholic. Well, it’s becoming a lot more tough for me now. I’ll bet my chip on that.
Valium can be used for Detox and Withdrawal so one of those now! Then something on TV to get me settled and all of this out of my head. For now.
I want to go to my first AA meeting tomorrow. Thing is, I blew out my ankle at Physio the other day. Not to move.
But I want to tell Sweetie GP I’m ACTUALLY going. Not thinking about it.
It’s not a far away. I can walk. But I tested a walk today. Not good.
Set my alarm for tomorrow? That’s when I’d go. Sacrifice my ankle? Because, Merlin #2 the day after, then Physio the next day after that.
Maybe I best not. I want to go. I really do. But I can’t fucking walk without doing more injury.
We get on so well. We fucking love each other. I’m in a lot of pain.
To hell with the alarm and going. I’ll explain when I see her. I’ve had too many stupid injuries.
ARGH. Trying to do so many good things for yourself can actually get really frustrating. Speaking of which, I’m actually going to EAT now.
Well, it looks like baby MacBook is still refusing to die. If you’re a Mac user, the worst (of several) things you can see is a gray screen with its Folder Icon with a big question mark flashing. DEATH. It’s like a PC’s “Blue Screen of Death” that no Techie can EVER fix.
Well, despite not working on the next attempt at saving it? Here I am typing on it still. Perhaps I should change baby MacBook’s name to baby Lazarus.
Personal Suicide? Hmmm.
Let’s start off with the fact that I have had every discussion about the issue, up down, sideways, backward, forward, diagonally… Discussions? Debates? Arguments?
The right for someone to do it, they’re not in a proper state of mind, leaving ones behind so they’re selfish because pain for others afterward, just plain selfish themselves. What else? Planning beforehand. Who was that guy? Some Professor? He mapped it out for ages and was “in a proper state of mind.”
Or do people not think so?
What about euthanasia? Another one? I’m probably missing more I have “discussed.”
I really am not “Pro-Suicide” but I believe that in some situations, people taking their own lives has some merit. When I was bedridden for 2-3 years, seizing non-stop, completely sick in terms of other parts of my body and losing my life–my prior life that I may not ever regain? Not being able to do the things I could before because of my questionable condition?
I flat out told my mother that I would take my own life. I would kill myself because I would refuse to live my life as it was for n period of time. I did tell her that it was n period of time. I didn’t know the future so I would decide on my own.
“Discuss” that one folks. However, I got better (although not completely to my prior life) before n period. Thus, I didn’t have to make the decision. Was I like the Professor? I had a plan? Roughly? Was I not in a proper state of mind?
Maybe I’m the only one who knows. Nonetheless, I didn’t do anything did I?
Doing something. Proper state of mind. Planning beforehand. This is tough.
For those of you who don’t know, in the beginning of 2011 I made a suicide attempt. And a big one.
Not that this is a “Suicide Guide Blog” but pissing about with chucking a bottle of pills (which I don’t advise) down your throat will only make you sick. I’ve done it twice.
On the aforementioned date, I don’t even know how many drugs (aka pills from my many bottles of meds) I gulped down with a bottle of Red Wine.
If you care to look at my Page: “Been There, Done That…Psych Med, Lab Rat!” it not only lists all of the meds I’ve been on but updates at the end once I started to get on different meds to find a cocktail to stabilize me. The majority at the top were ADs that I cannot take being Bipolar. Some Bipolar folks can take them but they make me even worse.
That time, the only thing I remember was shoving loads of pills down my throat, trying to get help, saying fuck it, taking more until I felt unbelievably sick. Memory gone.
Then I was found by one of the tenants in our house in the snow with no coat on. Sound weird? Later, I pieced it all together. Complex partial seizure. I’m always unconscious (lack of clothing) injuries on hand, torn clothing and maybe a tonic-clonic that followed (not uncommon) because I had a massive TBI. Straight to the ER, straight to the ICU. In a coma for a few days.
Why did I do this? Life was sucky, but there was a specific reason. And this reason had been on my mind for a long time. Was I impulsive like my two prior attempts by throwing bottles of my meds down my throat with wine as a chaser, or did I think it was, “the right time.”
Because if I had the idea why for so long, was it really impulsive? Could I have not been in a proper state of mind for so long? It’s possible. Your mind can do strange things. Perhaps the attempt was an attempt to try and escape that situation? I couldn’t bear it after so long?
Maybe I’m the only one who knows. Nonetheless, I did do something, didn’t I?
I suffered a lot from it obviously. I’ve been told I’m actually lucky to be alive. I always say I did die. For without having the life support of the ICU I would have been dead. Yes, I was fully intubated and on a respirator, another tube up my nose for more support.
Crap! Cough and remove the tube from inside, cuts on the side of my mouth! It’s all taped to your face. Thoracic.
But I don’t remember any of that. Well, fabric restraints in case I woke up, all out of mind and tried to pull, tear everything off me and being intubated! If I ripped that out of me? Possible uhhhh…damage?
But the biggest thing is I have both Retrograde and Anterograde Amnesia regarding the entire thing. None of those memories are ever coming back.
Even when I awoke from the coma, everyone thought I was all conscious and “there.” Not at all. I only remembered a guy from the Psych. Ward wearing a light blue Golf Shirt.
Then I was gone again–even though I was talking. And it continued. Even after I was discharged. Just a few pieces of things that happened retained.
It’s kind of rare to have both Retrograde and Anterograde Amnesia at the same time. That is to say surrounding one event? I believe so.
Would I attempt suicide again? Yes, I might. That has always been written on this blog in Post after Post. I’ve never made it a secret. I am mentally ill! Or I have mental health issues, if you prefer. They’re not going away. Neither is my life in living with them.
In fact, I was desperatey suicidal last night. I fought so hard to just jump off my balcony! That wouldn’t have killed me. Just broken me up a bit. Snapped a lot of bones and such.
I’ve been skydiving so I know how to do a PLF. That’s what I would have done. So I really wouldn’t have died. I just wished that I actually would have.
First, I can make Blog Posts via my Mobile, second, responding to it and Twitter stuff doesn’t work so well and third:
I’m now part of the orgy!!!
I think we all know of the Government’s collusion between Tobacco Companies and so much more.
Also, I am in no way a conspiracy theorist. A UFO could land on my head and I’d be quite pleased with that. Even better if they took me away from this planet.
Way back in uni, of course we were all living in poverty. Kraft Dinner and shitty Ramen packets that cost $0.25 day after day. And yet, how did we always have loads of alcohol on hand? To party EVERY NIGHT?
One thing we always had a hard time obtaining were cigarettes. With all of that partying and drinking going on, they really cramped the bank account. Or pile of cash if you didn’t have one.
So what really helped us were these little packs of smokes that we actually nicknamed, “Poverty Packs.”. They had 15 cigarettes in them and were dirt cheap compared to a full pack.
Not to mention, Ultra-Cute.
So, out I am and a guy I know buys…A POVERTY PACK! I didn’t even know they existed anymore. Although a lot different from years gone by.
Over many years, Health Canada got on a real kick about smoking being so bad for you. They started putting icky pictures of people dying and body parts being destroyed on all packs to try and stop people from smoking.
Then, for some reason they took away all the lists of ingredients on each pack of cigarettes, in measurements per brand. I don’t know why. Listing all the crap could also aid in someone quitting? Not.
Maybe a “retaliation” from the Tobacco Companies! Huh?
We can get access to “Native” Cigarettes too. People can in the U.S. as well. These are from Native Reserves (aka Indian but not PC to use that term!) However, this is a “Highly Illegal Practice.”
Everyone does it though. A carton for $30.00? You tell me.
Back to my “Poverty Pack” I just bought. And joining the orgy. They are $2.00 more than the cheaper brands here. I just about died. And there is NO WAY about them being a novelty feature.
The Government wants everyone to stop smoking? I think not. And the Tobacco Companies sure as hell don’t.