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

Why I keep coming back to express all my crazy here I don't know. But I just got taken off suicide watch with the VA and can only get one appointment every other month in this rural area. But I've jumped ahead.

October, I was fired from my job at the non-profit, helping disabled people, like myself because I really am that bad at life. By the end of November I was miserable, working a seasonal job by day and playing Russian roulette with my meds by night. By the end of November I almost killed myself. I was in the hospital for days and ended up in the mental ward for the very fisrt time on my birthday.

My husband never came to visit. He called while I was in the hospital to say he wanted a divorce. I could regale you with the things he used to say to me but I was co-dependent and not much better when I was hurt. I'm always hurt.

Three weeks I spent in the hospital, to the day. It was nothing like I imagined. Months have past and I've tried to get into and have been rejected from two live-in facilities. One was near my home and the other was in Wyoming. Wyoming called to tell me I didn't fit their program (for serious mental illness that mysteriously changed to substance abuse when he called me) on the same day I got the call that I was being taken off suicide watch.

That was my way out. I wanted to work on me without the controlling influences of my family. And I feel so much shame saying that because they are being helpful. I should get on with my life and go back to school one says, I should help nanny my nieces another says, I should move in with my sister she says. Right now I'm doing what I'm told. I've had it spelled out for me and I'm very good at not thinking but following.

I don't know where to go, how to be alone, how not to be crazy. I know that when you are honest you can lose things but I never thought about having to watch others gain things around me. My sisters are in med school, Mom is a social worker, brother has a big house with a beautiful baby girl I get to play with every day and a loving wife, my husband; soon to be X; will soon be a Psychologist. I could have been a doctors wife if I just could have been smarter and I did it to myself.

At least I'm being useful right now. I'm using my Link card to feed my nieces, being a nanny while my family is in school. I feel so guilty.

I miss my cats. After my kids died they kept me in one piece for a decade. They are my kids. And I'll never see them again because where I moved to wasn't safe for cats. I know my husband loves them as much as I do and dotes on them so there is some consolation. But when I grieve I have no furry face wiping away the tears and making me smile.

And god damn it. I ran out of antidepressants on Tuesday and was told they would have been here days ago. I ordered them in plenty of time. I suppose this is what I get for being broke and not working yet.

I put everything on hold before. My VA has wanted me to transfer out for a long time. I'm not easy. I waited. There was no point if I was moving. I just want to cancel everything and not be a burden to the tax payers. All I need are the prescriptions and a promise not to be a bother any more.

I read your post.

Thank you but One thing about me is whenI write and am emotional I tend to skip words or make assumptions, much like I did in the middle of my sleepless night. And I realized now how the last sentence could be taken differently. I would like very much to not feel guilty. To do that at this time would require me being on my own, getting help from no one, as to not be putting anyone out. My life goal is often to burden as few people as possible as little as possible (which is likely why if you met me I'd be suspiciously sickly sweet to you- not because I'm mean but because I'm like Eeyore in my head and I don't want anyone to know it for real). And to receive only my much needed pills and nothing more on a regular basis would not put undue stress onto the system. Now, I say that but am a socialist and want more taxes so other people have access to the same healthcare. The rules don't apply to me because I suck...you see. I have not overdosed in some emo attempt hoping for death since November...In other words, I was not saying I wanted my pills in order to kill myself. Without my antidepressants I'm feeling sick, have a headache (no zaps, thank god) and am certainly seeing reality in a much less stable way but I am boring. I take all my prescribed meds as advised. I don't even smoke or do drugs. That is a very long way to say, "please don't send medics and cops to my house (or a strangers house as I've moved - if I even added my address when I created my profile). I create enough drama and it would suck to die of embarrassment in a pink moo moo after all this work I did to actually live." Thank you.

Despite not sleeping and the feeling of withdrawal from my meds I went out for a walk with my niece. She exhausted me but managed to make friends with a squirrel and managed not to anger the geese. By the time I got back it was the end of the day and every fat cell in my body was screaming for death. I took a 5 hour "nap" and had the best dinner. Now I'm doped on ambien so I don't wake up crying till dawn and take another 5 hour "nap" tomorrow. I don't feel well at all. Anyone else had to quit 20 mg of generic lexapro cold turkey?

I've also read your posts, and while I wish I had more time to respond properly, I am glad you survived the suicide attempt.

Also, and I'm being totally serious, geese are really territorial! I'm glad you guys made it out of that okay.

Yes, geese are the worst. Took my niece out again today and one hissed at me. They are everywhere this time of year. The path was too narrow to get further away. But the walking is good.

My emotions are all over. I had to walk away from that sweet adorable girl this morning. And she followed me so I ate a cookie. She then saw that and I was like, "fuck it; have the cookie." Better that than me yelling at her for me being unstable.

Sun helps, I basically got up, got baby girl up. Spent entirely too long getting her fidgety butt ready and walked all day. We went to the library, 3 different parks, to her grandparents cafe. She napped in the stroller. Every muscle is so sore and I'm so tired that I don't even care I don't have antidepressants.

I looked online and it says they were dispensed on the 16th. So, does that mean the usual 10 day wait because I was told they were overnighted. My head is like in a vice. Luckily I still don't have head zaps. I must not have been on them long enough.

But my life, it's seriously going nowhere. Mom said I need to look into section 8 housing today. No joke, it's my dream to have a tiny house; just always thought it would be built by the Amish.

A few of my family has asked me what I'm going to do. Now that I have nowhere to go it's a matter of where I choose to go. But I have no clue.

My sister just found out she's doing clinicalS in Beloit. I was going back to southern Illinois but there is no point now. The only place I'm needed is here. I swore I'd never move back here. There are too many bad memories and too many people who I either don't like or who only know me as a fuck-up. I spent too long trying to not see myself through some people's eyes. I don't feel safe here. Does that even make sense. I go outside and hope no one I know drives by and it's not even because I'm fat and getting divorced. I'm just scared of everything here.

So, I'll probably get section 8 in Rockford. There isn't even a university there. But it is between my nieces and close enough to babysit both of them when they need it.

I think I'm beyond helping. I just need to find a job I can do from home. There is no point in trying to prove I'm somehow worthy or just as capable. I just gotta get paid.

I spent years trying to fit the mold and I'm not good at math or science. It's fuck art. I'm a damn good photographer but not a portrait photographer. Basically, there is no value in my talents. Too slow to be a chef, not good at telling people to tilt their head slightly up and to the right for your mediocre run of the mill family photos and never been trained as a painter. I have no patients for weaving and the patterns are always off.

And ya know, fuck people who see a difference between arts and crafts. Craft is code for "less worthy girl art". It's so sexist. Yarn works is just as hard as any archilval worthy noir print I can make.

So, have I mentioned I'm sick? It's too cold to walk outside today and I was up in pain and I'll all last night. Still no pills. Any time I did sleep I just saw my husband getting injured or killed. Wake up to realize, "haha, j/k he left your ass." Perhaps the killing was a prediction of things to come. There are more murders in Rockford, per capita, than in Chicago. Although, with recent news who knows if that's still the case.

In 2006 my son was stillborn. Afterwards I learned about the grief olympics. It's one of those quirky things you don't know until you unfortunately do.

When people suffer they often suffer by comparison. "I have it worse because..." Who in the fuck wants to win the grief olympics? And it's not like I don't think some people actually do have it worse. It's subjective. Ask 5 people who has a worse life and you'll get 5 different answers. The fact is that I am me and you are you and you lose when you win in grief. Sometimes to heal you need to lose but eventually, many; even most; people get tired of that because they don't want to be the biggest loser any more even if they technically still have a shit life.

Imagine now how at a loss I was moments ago to have a conversation with my sister all about, "What are you going to do? We need to know already. We need you sometimes to be moving so you can babysit."

First, what is it about so call "intelligent people" and talking to the learning impaired as if they alone have all the intelligence in the world, as if our entire knowledge base wasn't far more complex? Learning inspired does not mean stupid and, "please talk to me as if I don't know how to form thoughts."

If I didn't know how bad it felt I would call her an idiot. Here is why. When I told her that I have no plan but have been thinking about it nonstop she asks me what I want to do.

"I want to enjoy my life."

I get to the nitty gritty of what she wants. " I have no plan. The plan was to get away from controlling influences so I could figure out my plan."

She is still in that place where she five straight into the grief olympics. She didn't get her internship at St. Jude and didn't get her clinical a in Chicago so her CV is ruined and it's all because they don't like her. Sometimes plans don't work out and you don't get what you want.

My jaw must have hit the floor. She took my stunned look as if she were speaking some life lesson and not a huge insult and kept going.

I told her plans never work out. She then tells me how that's not true because she got into her program and she was just as afraid that wouldn't work out.

I literally could not respond without resorting to comparisons so I just listened to her talk down to me. She and others are always so belittling. I can only assume it's because they think I comprehend so little. I understand and wish I were wittier with my insults.

Sometimes things do work out. I was getting so sick from the withdrawals that a huge wave of dizziness came over me. I almost vomited on her (which would have been funny had I not been standing close to dinner) and I had to go lay down. Now the spell is over and I'm contemplating what I can do to not go back up there.

She actually told me in the middle of that conversation that they didn't want to tell me what to do; as she was telling me what to do; because they don't want me to blame them for my being miserable. Now, I'm laying here wondering if they see me as the type to do that, if I actually do that and thinking, "Dear god, does it fucking matter what they think of you! Stop giving such a shit!? They are gossipy, presumptive and controlling. You have OCD, depression and anxiety, among others. Coincidence?"

My dream was all about my fears. They mostly are, but rather than seeing someone hurt or upset my mother handed me over to medical personnel with a lie. I ended up in in the star seat of an auditorium, the high seats guaranteeing every face was visible. When I was asked about my most private actions every doctor and nurse became accusitory and disgusted.

They began to leave but in that moment I stood up for myself. I stood up and shouted that there were more like me. I proclaimed what it was like, the shame. The reasons for why freaks like me exist. They sat down and listened. It was traumatizing and empowering.

After I walked back to my mother where I lectured her for handing me over to the wolves I was interrupted by my next appointment, an allergy shot.

Get in only to find I'm in a room full of doctors again looking to study me, poke me, find out how I tick. It's then that I run. It's the biggest hospital I've ever seen so I shot off. I had to find clothes to leave undetected. Somewhere I run into another girl who is also running. We run away together. Things happen. It turns out the girl is an employee sent to subdue me so I can be locked up and studied.

Then I wake up. I realize in a milisecond this isn't reality. But then I do realize what is reality. No one cares. No one wants to hear it. No one wants odd and unique stories. It's too much work and time they don't have to make a case study for one person. The problem isn't exactly topping the bell curve and so helping me is just helping one person. There is no way to help the potential of hundreds or thousands more with their work. So no one gives a shit.

God, if only I could go back to that abused kid and change things so I would at least act like a normal human being. I had to study people as I grew up and even knowing how hard I worked I get therapists who refuse to believe my ASD diagnosis wasn't made incorrectly. I can't have Aspergers. I'm too fucking normal. I have to prove over and over that I did go through all the extensive work of being diagnosed.

Fuck how all the diagnostic criteria is based on men. I present how a woman does. I've been inculturated specifically to blend in, as girls are taught! But the DSM is wrong about Autism and all the nonprofits run by and for autistic people are working tirelessly to change it. We've published books and we basically make a lot of noise. Yet it's always the normals who are heard because we can't possibly communicate and they have to translate our strange actions for us.

Just woke up to realize how little I actually matter and how little change I can actually affect. I'm still in bed, still barely awake. Even though I was being chased in my dream I didn't want to forget that feeling. People actually gave a fuck. I was a sideshow freak to be studied, but they were actually doing something.

How do you know if your therapist has fired you? I received a vague certified letter from the VA. Mom opened it for me to tell me what it said and I got a vague idea that I will no longer be able to see my therapist and will have to be seen elsewhere. I don't want to sound like a total jackass. My first thought was, "My god, she's gone out of remission." Mom is a social worker for the VA in the same system. She told me she would have heard about that. So, she's not sick. But when my last therapist moved away she told me she was quitting and moving. I got no such indication this time.

Now, of course, my concern is that in trying not to be a bother that I have actually shown what a difficult patient I am and she's fired me. Saying, "That's probably not the case," is easier said than done. It's just that I've been gone trying to care for family, there was that storm in N. Illinois and I couldn't get to the the train station. There is the fact that I'm not going to Wyoming so there now is no reason left NOT to transfer to Rockford.

They took me off suicide watch on the same day they reject my application to Wyoming. Then, a few days later a certified letter comes in saying I don't have a therapist any more. AND, more than once the VA in S. Illinois has tried to get me to transfer.

It sounds pretty shut and closed to me. Correlation isn't causation but it sure as hell gets me thinking.

On an up note. I found a support group for mental illness in my area. The closest NAMI group is all the way in Crystal Lake and they meet at a shitty time. This place sounds suspiciously religious but it doesn't specifically say it is. Saturday is much easier for me to meet so I'm off. I have half an hour to get there. My first support group for being crazy! Woot! Wish me luck.