Hexagram 23: Things Fall Apart

 One of the things that you can always count on in recovery, be it addiction, mental illness or what have you, is that eventually the path will take you in a direction you neither expected nor wanted. After watching my behaviors for the last week, I have come to the conclusion that my psych meds simply aren't functioning as they are supposed to. This is a bit of a problem. I am really committed to this cardiac rehab. I can see the changes it is having on my body and my mentality. I am losing weight. I am consistently cheerier than I have been in years.

Or I was, at least.

For the last five days I have been moodier than I have been in almost a decade, or the last time I came off my meds rather unexpectedly. That time I didn't end up in the hospital, though I definitely should have. That began the truly abusive phase of my relationship in Delaware. Both from her and me. I was off my rocker and being encouraged to get worse. It ended my last job, as I began to have real problems understanding boundaries and relationships. I answered some questions in a way that was not helpful from my girlfriend. It nearly ended our relationship. Probably would have been better if it did end the relationship, instead we just started doing everything we could to hurt each other. I also didn't see the madness coming, even though I knew I was out of my medications. It caught me by surprise and I just ran with the insanity, both hers and mine.

This time has been a bit different however. I saw that I was getting depressed and sluggish, and so went back on one of my antidepressants. That wasn't enough though, and I was fully aware that I was getting angrier and angrier every day. Everything began to annoy me. I had been wanting to speak to my son for several weeks, but he had the audacity to call me and I went into a fit. This after screaming at my best friend the night before because I was having issues with a game that is only an alpha release. When Monday came and it was time to go to cardiac rehab, I convinced myself on the five minute drive to the hospital that I was definitely committed against my will if I didn't act perfectly normal while I was at rehab. So naturally, I burst into tears in the waiting room. Definitely failed the veil of normalcy. I had to call in crazy for my client as I couldn't go ten minutes without cycling through moods like a roulette wheel. I couldn't even call him because speech was beyond my control. In summary, it has not been a good week.

So now I am sitting on my couch, trying to keep things as calm and neutral as possible while I wait for a call so I can go to a crisis house and have my meds adjusted. I'm trying to remember this is a temporary event and doesn't require a permanent solution, but at times that becomes very difficult. I don't know if it's the smoking cessation, the blood sugar spikes, the rehab or what, but I am not well. I don't care for this at all, and I can only hope that by documenting as much of this ride as possible that it helps someone somewhere know they are not alone. Because if I am totally honest, I have never felt so isolated for a long time.