SO THIS IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

I got that title from a movie I saw called, "Sweet Home Alabama." If you've seen the movie you'll know what I mean and if you haven't and won't ask me and I'll give the scene away.

I'm not really sure who is reading this right now - I'm really mostly blogging at Myspace because that's where all my friends are. I'd like to start reaching out to others as well so I want to post the important stuff on Blogger. Here is my post for today:

The American Psychiatric Association defines Personality Disorders as 'An enduring pattern of inner experience and behavior that deviates markedly from the expectations of the culture of the individual who exhibits it.' They like to cluster these disorders into little categories not unlike Personality Types (Type A, B, etc.,) except instead of these categories determining whether or not you'll purchase a red Corvette or spend most of your time in the library; they determine whether or not you're more likely to be a sociopathic serial killer or suicidal.

Although psychiatry is a remarkable science and has helped mankind make great strides in learning the whys, hows and what-to-do-about random, unacceptable behavior it is of course not an exact science and the lines of these disorder clusters can be blurred and that is when it becomes quite difficult to diagnose let alone manage a person's destructive behavior.

For me personally I've experienced disassociation disruptions such as depersonalization (Feeling detached from myself - like I'm watching my actions and being unable to do anything about them), derealization (Feeling like something is surreal or bizarre when it is obviously normal to everyone else), combined with auditory hallucinations (Hearing voices); however, I do not have multiple personality disorder or borderline personality disorder (Although they tried to diagnose me with that as an adolescent having been on the border of neurosis and psychosis) because I do not see things only in black and white. I am very aware of the grey areas :-)
I may hallucinate and have dellusions from time to time but I am far too articulate to be schizophrenic and although I may be a bit antisocial I'm by no means a sociopath.

What I have personally experienced is a combination of paranoid personality disorder (Hypersensitivity, being cold and distant, reading hidden messages in innocent remarks or casual looks, suspicion, difficulty relaxing, etc.) and cyclothymic disorder. Cyclothymic disorder is a mild form of bipolar disorder. With regular bipolar disorder your moods can fluctuate drastically back and forth all day long. When you're high you are reckless, careless - your behavior is completely unacceptable by normal standards and when you're low you completely withdraw from yourself and life in general. With cyclothymic disorder moods are less extreme. I can be high for weeks - feeling incredibly creative, motivated, loving and unable to sleep and then boom - I'll be lethargic, apathetic, cold and distant. Of course anxiety goes along with all of this.

People like to say it is because of all the drugs I took. I told myself that lie for a long time. I denied treatment for so long because I wanted to believe I did it to myself, that I could change myself - that everyone had it in their capacity to change their own behavior. The truth of the matter is I've been this way ever since I was a little girl. Just ask my mother. The upside is she keeps telling me I've mellowed out with age and with that I can logically say when I'm 80 I'll be perfectly sane.

It'd be nice to be able to say the days of Jenn's Dual Personality are long forgotten. One day I'll be able to look back on my days of paranoia and hypersensitivity with the same humility and gratefulness I have when I think of my days of psychotic rage and suicidal tendencies.

It has only been 87 days since I started the Wellbutrin and 8 days on the Xanax. With the Xanax I am able to take the full prescribed amount of the Wellbutrin and between the two I feel relaxed, calm and rational under pressure. My emotions haven't overwhelmed me in a way that prevents me from functioning properly in society. As Gina Gershon says with the coolest Jersey accent in P.S. I Love You 'Going insane is not a luxury for the middle class.' To which Hilary Swank replies, 'That is so unfair.'

There is such a sense of freedom without the worry that I might snap at any minute. It is a relief to be able to hold a conversation with someone without crying or yelling or babbling incoherently about some paranoid delusion I've conjured up (Or being way too brutally honest about something someone is not ready to fess up to).

Being a Borderline Manic Depressive is like constantly driving around in a beat up old junk car. It is constantly breaking down and just when you think you've got it completely put together someone crashes into you and the whole thing is totaled and on top of it the insurance company deems it your fault.

So much time was spent feeling sorry for myself; wondering how nobody could understand what I was going through - hating myself because nobody wanted to be around someone like me. Hating everyone else for thinking they were so perfect and I was the crazy one. When I think about all that energy put into how I perceived other people were treating me all I can do is shake my head.

Feelings of worthlessness and uselessness were a daily thing for me. I felt undesireable. I had no libido. I felt empty inside and the only time I didn't feel like going to sleep and never waking up was when boom - out of nowhere I'd feel like I had it all under control, like I knew the answer to everything and that I could accomplish it all. One week I wouldn't be able to sleep at all - the next I'd sleep like a baby. I likened myself to a Super Ball.

Now it isn't all perfect. I don't wake up everyday; springing out of bed with a song in my voice and a glint in my eye. I don't skip around the office professing my love to everyone and I definitely don't come home, sit around, surveying my surroundings and think to myself, 'This is exactly where I want to be.' It isn't like Morpheus just handed me the Blue Pill.

This is what it is like: I don't get so overwhelmed with stress and panic or anger and depression that I can't function. I do not assume that someone is talking about me if I see them whisper and happen to look in my direction. I do not assume someone is mad at me if they act moody around me. I do not believe I am invisible. I believe I am beautiful, sexy, smart and capable. I feel desirable and my sexual desire has become insatiable.

I do not lie awake in bed at night fixating on all the sounds of demons who want to destroy my soul.

One thing I have noticed is how unhappy others are. I was always so consumed with my own unhappiness it was like I had blinders on. I intellectually knew there was suffering and I was always actively helpful when needed. I can see now that a lot of people spent more of their own energy trying to make me see the error of my ways than working on healing themselves. I am grateful and disheartened at the same time.

A long time ago I made the decision to stop going home (Where I lived before I moved into my own place for the first time) because there was just too much sadness there. My family was divided by so many cuts I couldn't possibly know where to start piecing it back together. We all existed in our own universe, passing each other in the hall, serving up dinner at the same time - only to eat it in our respective rooms with the doors closed. Was it because we didn't like each other or was it because together we were reminded too much of the pain.

By no means do I want to imply that have some how risen above those who can't seem to find happiness; the joy in the little things, being grateful for all they have instead of what they lack. I just feel a little like maybe some people have been hypocritical and I allowed that hypocracy to make me feel worthless.

I was joking earlier with my mother in law after Jason snapped at me for no reason and said, 'And I'm the one on meds.'

Growing up I was a vicious person. I was violent, cynical and downright psychotic at times. There came a time when I was not anymore and it took my family years to realize I had changed. It took them years to figure out they didn't have to flinch if they said something I didn't like. It seemed like a lifetime before they felt they could open up to me and really connect without having to feel like I was going to tear their heart out.

Today my boss actually begged me not to freak out before she had to tell me to finish something that was a priority to her. She wasn't being sarcastic or mean or anything. She said it as tenderly as she could. I knew in my heart that she was afraid I would react the way I always have in the past. It breaks my heart to know how much I've hurt so many of you.

I know there is a stigma involved with having to take drugs to be 'Normal.' I know for a while people will always be second guessing me. I also know that what anyone thinks about me is their issue, not mine. I am through feeling responsible for the happiness of others. I take full responsibility for my own emotions and if there is someone out there who cannot do the same, that is their problem, not mine.

I have empathy. I am reliable. I am sensitive. But I am nobody's babysitter and I do not need babysitting myself.

Happy Anniversary to Me

I just realized today that as of this month I have been blogging for five years. What I'd love to do is print out each and every (Interesting) post and see if I can't arrange it into some sort of memoir. I've always wanted to do it - but who wants to read a memoir of someone they've never heard of? I suppose if it is exciting enough (Is promiscuous, angry, drug addict turns married, happy, clean Christian an exciting enough story?) someone might read it.

I don't have enough of a following. I've lost contact with all the ladies I used to blog with and none of my friends like to read much. I started writing articles for eHow and hopefully through that I'll meet some people and gain some sort of following and maybe even make a little money. My next step is to start reading and rating and commenting on everyone and anyone's blogs and photos.

If you (I think you might be my only reader, Rachel) know of anyone who might be interested in picking up a new blog to read, maybe you can give me a little "Shout Out" and let people know I'm back. If you want. You don't have to. I wouldn't hold it against you.

Thursday 13

I've been thinking of what I might want to get should I receive a gift certificate for Amazon. It takes me a long time to make a decision so I like to have it all picked out by Christmas time. Here's a quick look into the scattered mind of Jenn:

1. Manufacturing Consent: The Political Economy of the Mass Media by by Edward S. Herman and Noam Chomsky
2. MBT Wave Casual Shoes - Women's (Now down from $229 to $119!)
3. Vanishing America: The End of Main Street Diners, Drive-Ins, Donut Shops, and Other Everyday Monuments by Michael Eastman
4. Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams: Short Stories, Prose, and Diary Excerpts by Sylvia Plath
5. The Pop Hits Collection - Skeeter Davis
6. The Blood Pressure Cure: 8 Weeks to Lower Blood Pressure without Prescription Drugsby Robert E. Kowalski (This one I might want to get now because my blood pressure was 170/114)
8. The Secret Lives of Men and Women: A PostSecret Book by Frank Warren
9. The Subterraneans by Jack Kerouac
10. A Sacred Sorrow: Reaching Out to God in The Lost Language of Lament by Michael Card
11. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
12. Songcatcher DVD
13. Thomas Kinkade - Paint By Number Asst. by Mega Brands

I'm thinking of submitting this to The New Yorker

Lucid

massive, celestial, solar star

incandescent vitality

burning skin and freckles

miss the moon as you sink

melting, pressing, seeping

into the ocean, hiding

behind the mountains

she rises illuminating

tree tops and the tips

of the wicked, white-capped water

while the briny deep

licking the shore,

lapping like the tongue of a feline

listen!

the whisper of the wind

through the pine

the gull's lamentation

the crackle and pop

pebbles and rocks

HISS, the white sound

the great white tongue

crawling up that cold, white sand

Back to Blogger

I don't really have anything to say at the moment, except that it is good to be back. I can't promise that I'll write here every day (Not that there is anyone but Rachel reading at this point) or that anything I write will be terribly stimulating, but I do promise that when I have something to say - or something I want to share, I'll come here instead of Myspace. Hopefully I'll have something juicy to throw out there soon enough. Ta-ta for now!