Disregard all that positivity and hopefulness of working it out with my ex. She’s made it clear that her initial thoughts of working it out were out of impulsiveness. So fuck, what am I left with ? Hurt.. lots of hurt. Whatever, I half expected it. I’ll just drive on like I always do.


What an interesting past few days..

      So Sunday I had a shift at a local gay resort during pride weekend. I’ve worked there previously so when they need help, I shoot up there for spare cash. So I took adderall and worked there on a few hours of sleep. I have an iPhone 7 and I frequently use it with a Bluetooth headset. Recently they updated Siri so you can prompt verbal command without holding down any bottoms. Completely hands free. So for whatever reason, my bluetooth picked up sounds from the resorts speakers and interpreted it as “call Allis” (my ex). So I emailed her saying sorry it was an accident and it sparked this whole conversation between us. She divulged to me how she still loves me and she’s been diagnosed borderline personality disorder and is seeking treatment. Not really a surprise but I was happy to see she sought help. Anyway, about two hours later, I started having a hypomanic episode. Actually I think it was borderline manic (more leaning towards bi polar 1 ). I’m sure it was exacerbated by the sleep deprivation and stimulate usage. Needless to say my sister voiced her opinion that I should self admit to the psych ward. I considered this option but instead I went home and started my mirtazapine. It knocked me out for 17 hours and I woke up in a pretty flat mood. 

       After waking up 17 hours later I was absolutely ravenous. This is a side effect of the mirtazapine. I actually decided to start eating on a carb controlled diet because I want to get a handle on the commonly reported side effect of weight gain. So I go to chipotle, I get a bowl without rice and limit the trimmings. So I’m sitting there eating, and I look over and see a girl with a super nice ass. I immediately acknowledge it as my ex’s ass and she turns around and gives me this horrified wave and hello. I feel so bad because she starts shaking. I think I would have been shaken  too if I wasn’t so medicated. I missed her so much and so much damage has been done between but it doesn’t change how we feel. So I kick the chair across from me and say ” want to sit down”, she says yes. We sit there for about 35 minutes and just talk. It wasn’t quite as much of a roller coaster as our normal talks since we broke up have been. It’s going to sound terrible but it was nice to see she was coping just as bad as I am about this whole ordeal. We go back and forth for a while kind of negotiating a reality where we can make it work. I explain to her how my bi polar is negatively fueled by her impulsiveness (that’s caused by her borderline personality disorder). She stressed to me that she really loves me, she really wants a life with me and she’s always been sure of that. She attributes her flakeyness to her borderline personality disorder. Now I feel almost obligated to give her some variation of a chance because my diagnoses came along first. When she was made aware of it, she attributed a lot of my shitty actions to my disorder. So I feel like I can do the same. So we fooled around in the parking lot. It was just nice to be intimate with her again. We decided to be in one another’s life, just a lot less. We were seriously crossing boundaries with one another. I’m hoping she seeks some form of mood stabilizing medication. I really want her to do that on her own initiative and not because I want her to. We need to be strong as individuals, not codependent. Honesty, all my friends and peers will probably think I’m making a horrible decision. Whatever, I’m thinking for myself and taking a chance. I hate sound corny but superstitious but she walked into chipotle for a reason. 


Putting a face to the madness 

      I’m currentlystudying some pediatrics for an upcoming exam. Those of you who read my first post, thank you ! Also, thank you for continuing to follow this clown fiesta of a life I have lol. 

       I’m really trying to get away from the adderall. The crash is tough but it’s nice to have a few moments of clarity in the earlier part of the day. My psychiatrist gave me mirtazapine a while back but I’ve waited to start it due to the known side effects. It causes extreme sedation and with this schooling being so crazy, I can’t afford that. If anyone has any insight on that particular anti depressant, please share. Anyways, I hope everything is going great with you guys and I appreciate those of you who follow and read!

Depression · suicide · Uncategorized

Lets do this

My sister suggested I give this whole blogging thing a try. So  here are some disclaimers before you get into it: I’m blunt, I’m crude and my life was pretty fucked up. I’m mainly here to seek a feeling of comradery  with people who have had equally or greater traumatic lives and maybe some suggestions as to how I can move forward from this pain that weighs me down.  I’ve been fucked as a kid, robbed, watched my sister die of cancer and got a front row seat to my mom getting either raped or beaten into an emergent state (lol believe it or not this is not an all-inclusive list). I’m 26 and some change and for about 23 of those years, I kept my composure, mostly. Lately I’m completely fucked. I broke up with a girlfriend of mine. It was a shitty relationship with a weak foundation but it really shook me at my fucking core when we split. The reason why I mention this event is it opened my eyes to a lot. It made me realize that my stress tolerance is complete shit. I mean this was a sad event, make no mistake but I’m so riddled with depression I could fucking throw myself off a bridge. I’m realizing that in life, traumatic events have an accumulative value. I’m also realizing that that value has far exceeded my level of being able to cope. I’m now seeing a psychiatrist and a psychologist regularly. It is hard to say how much it helps because I’m masking a lot of my symptoms with adderall and xanax (unbeknownst to my psychiatric care team). About five months ago (when me and the ex were still together) I had a strange event happen to me. I was in a clinical setting (I’m a nursing student) and I saw a woman who looked like my mother. My mother and I are estranged because she was verbally and emotionally abusive. She was a severe alcoholic (what a fun trait I’m adopting with pills).  This woman was having end stage liver failure from alcoholism. For a split second I had a series of thoughts that made me think about my mother and how this could be her fate soon. I chewed on that thought for about 5 minutes and dismissed it after I started working on the lady. She needed a catheter. I was volun-told by my instructor to insert the foley catheter. For you non medical types its a tube that is inserted through the urethra so urine can free flow into a bag. This chick’s vagina looked like death and decay. Anyways, I won’t get too caught up in my anecdotal/medical bullshit. So I came home that day and decided to smoke a bunch of weed and take x2 xanax. My ex works at a bar a few blocks from my apartment and we had plans of having a relaxing fire in my backyard. So I gathered my wood and started the fire about 45 minutes prior to my ex coming home. So the fire, xanax and weed are really setting the mood. I start thinking about life and how it’s been fairly shitty the vast majority of the time. I keep a gun in my car for personal protection. So I’m sitting there and I take a deep breath I take my .380 Ruger-LCP and I put it to my temple. Now this is where shit gets wacky. I immediately feel such a sense of relief. Liberation is probably a better word. I knew at that moment, for once, I had control. It felt OUTSTANDING. Obviously this is past tense because I’m sitting here typing to you. I’m getting a little choked up typing this because it puts shit into perspective. I used to love life. How did I get here?