Dismal

I'm greatly anticipating my bunny, which if everything goes well, I should have by Monday when I come back from my parent's. It will be a joyous occasion; my first pet since I started living alone. But no matter how much happiness comes into my life, the pain, the mental pain always resurfaces. I asked for the pain to end repeatedly. Last year I tried to end it myself, but he wants me still alive. That's not at all love, and if he tells me that it was after I die I'm going to spit in his face. That's TORTURE. I saw an add today for depression on TV. Everybody is so familiar with that mental disorder and it is the most common. Nobody should be afraid to discuss that mental illness. And I was flipping through People some months back and saw an add for Abilify, a medication for bipolar. That disorder is getting a lot of press lately, too. I was watching TV one morning and a commercial came on for a medical study which needed bipolar sufferers to participate. Oh, that is so good. People are starting to accept that disorder too. How very lovely. But MY FUCKING GOD, WHEN IT COMES TO SCHIZOPHRENIA, I SEE NO ADDS FOR MEDICATION IN MAGAZINES, NO ADDS ON TV, NO NOTHING. You know why? Because for schizophrenia you have to take an antipsychotic and everybody wants to distance themselves from a psycho. Psychotic isn't even in Webster's dictionary! See how far people want to distance themselves from these poor sufferers? I have to admit, I didn't know how to spell psychotic because it wasn't in the fucking dictionary(I should go burn it), but I put stuff together and found it out myself, without the help of these fucking editors who compiled the damn thing. My copy is dated 2002, so maybe they have included the word by now. And the definition better be something that's more politically correct than one that pokes fun of. When I was in the homeless shelter for like, the second time I was diagnosed as schizophrenic and thought my life was over. I knew if people were to find out about me, they would stay away from me. You see it all the time, people making fun of the mentally ill, and when I see or hear that, I feel like stabbing their bodies with a meat hook, plunging it into the back of their necks, hoisting them up and slowly watch them die. It's not fair, we're already going through so much crap, trying hard to stay alive amidst our own pain and all the negative comments and stigma that people still have towards us. I would rather kill myself than hurt another person. To me, people just get in the way of what I want to do, which is end my life. They're telling you "no, don't do it. There's a reason for your life." BUT HOW CAN YOU DO THAT WHEN VOICES ARE CONSTANTLY IN YOUR HEAD, TELLING YOU TO DO THE DIRECT OPPOSITE? Or you're so in pain you just want relief, an easy way out? Those people who get in the way, THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT PAIN IS. They don't know what it's like to be on four drugs that don't even work because you're so fucked up in the head and your brain is ravaged by the disease you suffer from. That's how it is for me. I've never, ever heard voices, but I read this book by Ken Steele who did hear voices, and they were with him for over thirty years, telling him to kill himself. But everytime he tried, it never worked out. It was a good book, but I felt real jealous because I knew before reading the book that he was dead. He compiled the book, but died before it was published. No more pain for him. So jealous. I just have these severe mental episodes, rocking myself violently back and forth in bed while muttering babble, shouting at the top of my lungs that I can't take it anymore, crying so hard and uncontrollably that I feel I'm going to drive myself insane and die, which is NOT how I want to go. This is the worse I can go. There is no turning back. There is no getting well. My brain and the devil keep telling me, "no, HELL NO. Let's make it worse. Let's push more buttons." I don't want to scare myself completely out of my skin by totally loosing it for the last time. It's like my brain was healthy when I started the meds back in 2001, but now in 2007, my brain is completely ravaged, or 3/4 of it is, and every time I have an episode of whatever I go through at the time, another clump of brain tissue is eaten by the disease I have that consumes me body and soul until I either drive myself insane and die, which I think will happen but hope it doesn't, or totally loose it and am screaming nonsense, obscenities and bloody pain so loud that someone calls the cops and my life slowly draws to an end that way, after being thrown into a small room with no bed and no windows. That's what the state hospitals were like back in the sixties, as Ken wrote about. It's like, a new century now, but if you came in uncontrollable they'd probably do that same thing, throwing you in the quiet room until you calmed down. But with me, there would be no calming down because my brain would be already consumed with the disease that would ultimately end up taking my life.