YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

----I feel like i did right after I got out. Reckless. Defiant. Like I want to get piercings or a tattoo, get wasted in some random bar, get a new wardrobe and reinvent myself.

Like I want to drive fast and not wear a seatbelt, cause really, who needs seat belts?

I don't want to eat, even though I'm hungry. I have this desire to see how long I can go with out sustenance, just to try it out. Just to see what happens.

Yesterday, I wanted to pack a bag of clothes, sleeping bag, some matches and just start walking. Just keep going until I decided to stop. And camp out. Just disappear for a while. Maybe I'll do it on my days off. Just so I don't fuck up work.

Guess it's been going on for a while. On Tuesday I had to resist the urge to take a bunch of boxes home and start packing up and labeling all my shit. I've been fighting to resist writing my will, and compiling my stuff. And Thursday night I just wanted to pull the covers over my head and block out the world--not think. I feel like I'm making this up--like I'm making a big deal of this shit and it isn't a big deal. Like, "oh, you know, everyone thinks about this shit," or , "it's fine now, this was all just a dream, just a misfortune mishap."

Honestly, I feel REALLY fucking good. Which is crazy, because yesterday morning I had to leave work in an ambulance because I was suicidal; I locked my keys in my car to keep myself from driving off and doing something stupid. I was a wreck; crying uncontrollably, screaming into the phone. Then when the cops and paramedics arrived I was an asshole. I asked them to go away, and got pissed when they asked me what was going on. Like, really? You are going to make me repeat it? What do you want from me? I was like, "what the fuck?"

Then, in the psyche eval I tried to appear as normal and put together as possible, because there was NO fucking way I was going back to the psyche ward. I down played what I had said and felt, (which was easy, because I no longer felt it, and she didn't specifically ask me what i'd said, so I wasn't really lying, right? Besides, that's her fault for not doing a more through job. 10 minute psych eval. What kind of shit is that? Anyone can lie for 10 minutes. Anyone can appear sane for 10 minutes...fuck you and your incompetence.) I made sure to appear calm, speak clearly, and keep my attitude and negativity to a minimum. I didn't make eye contact, because I knew I would crack, or I suspected she would know I was that I wasn't being truthful.

Now that I was there I had a goal. A purpose. To not be admitted, because that would fuck everything up. To prove I wasn't crazy, and I didn't need this or anything from them. And I was suddenly able to focus.

I felt so damn good after that conversation. Because I had won. I had pulled one over on the system, and I had control. And you know what? Fuck them. Fuck them and fuck the security guard stationed outside my room, that keeps throwing wary glances my way. Fuck the tiny room with the shitty bed, and the god damn gown that shows your ass. Fuck having to be followed to the bathroom. Fuck all of that. I can keep myself alive, without your shitty ass version of help.

I then promptly put my feet up, and started singing opera to pass the time. They want to think I'm crazy? Let them think I'm crazy. I dare them to try and keep me here. I'd like to see them try. I mean look at me. That performance was genius.

And if they do keep me, I'm going to be the biggest asshole they've ever met.

And right now, I feel fucking good. Like all that shit that happened yesterday happened to someone else. Some poor pathetic creature that isn't nearly as fucking awesome as me. And I'm looking over this, like, "well, this is a little abnormal...me being an asshole and feeling vindictive and wanting to do reckless shit." I think the problem is, I don't care. I want to cuss everybody out, and I'm just waiting for someone to say the wrong thing so I can express my 'power'. Cause you know what? fuck them! Fuck all of them. I don't need any of them or their judgement I shit. Who are they to tell me how to live my life?

Okay, that was yesterday. How are you doing now?

Do you have someone nearby in case you try to do something harmful? Don't make me go all big sister!

I survived the weekend; it was a bit hellish. I went from feeling great to confining myself to my bed-- because there wasn't anything in my room I could use to hurt myself. So, if I just stayed in my bed and didn't move, I could trick fate, and avoid whatever bad thing would happen if I got up. It was as close as I've ever come to paranoia. I slept a majority of the day, and was largely unresponsive, just trying to wait it out. I'm ok. I saw my therapist today, and I have an appointment for an intensive out patient eval at 5 today; (instead of being admitted, I'd be able to keep working and just show up at the center 3 days a week for 3 hour sessions). My therapist helped me set it up, and I feel a bit better now that I'm not alone and that I have a course of action to take. I think going to work has also forced me to be mentally present, even though I still feel like if someone looks at me wrong I'm going to devour their soul. So far, I've managed to make my presence minimally known, and avoid speaking to people. And I'm only at work another hour, so I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. As long as my boss doesn't want to pray with me, that is. I'm hoping she's busy, and am going to try to stay out of her line of sight. But thank you for your concern. I'm still fucked up, but at least I'm doing something about it. I will keep you posted about what the iop eval people say.