My mood was so mixed for so long and I could not take it. I drank. And then drank some more. I think I was going to die. My friends wanted to take me to the hospital. I cried to them not to, my parents would find out, I'd get in trouble. Would I rather die than get in trouble with my parents? Yes. There is so much pain I cannot escape, so I do my best. The pain of disappointment, the pain of loneliness, the pain of having to accept a new way of life that is taboo. I hate it all, and thinking about it makes me cry too often. I do not like crying. I hardly stop and then I get so exhausted I cannot move. Saturday night I had a panicc attack and I was alone, house sitting for my aunt, 11:00 at night. Everything came back too fast--moving in to the dorms, moving out, classes, missing classes, paranoia, drunken episodes, pot smoking, suicide attempts, keeping secrets. I'm good at keeping secrets. My parents must know I am alright. The way I present myself is careful and painstaking. Sweet happy Amanda, always cheering up everyone and making them laugh. No more lithium. I'm thinking fast and debating with people and winning. I can read a book. I played the piano very well today. It's fantastic, but I'm out of control.
I took six klonopin tonight. I only usually take one. I don't know why. What am I trying to accomplish? I want to be whisked away to a fantasy world that can come true when I'm overly medicated and floating on clouds. I'm suffocating and breathing restlessly at the same time. Running as fast as I can as my lungs begin to close. Everyone watches, unassuming and unaware. It's so laughable. I cannot talk honestly to my own mother. I need to worry about her feelings, not mine, so I sneak away to go insane and act irrationally, then come back the next day with smiles and hugs and a calm demeanor. Oh, the effort it takes to act like that.
Will this never end? The endless anxiety and mania and depression and mixed episodes that define who I am now. It is ME, it not simply a part of me. What can I do but turn to alternative resources like overdosing slightly on medication and getting drunk and going out of my mind with hyperactivity. I lash out at people who have abandoned me, or so I feel. I don't know what reality is. Where's my perception, and why is it so lagging? I WANT TO LIVE MY LIFE WITHOUT ALL THIS. No one will ever know how truly alone I am, slowly exposing myself to the shadow of death. Whether I'm manic or depressed or both, the thought of suicide persistts and I cannot control it or ignore it anymore. It takes willpower not to take all the medication I have in one easy swoop and swallow it down with all the alcohol I can find. For anyone close to me who reads this, it must be alarming and frightening, but, this is my life. Welcome to the world of extremes and outrageous thought patterns and actions and absurd reasoning. I was not always like this. I used to be sane and float through life like a good little girl who was satiated and comfortable. The turmoil in my head keeps me from enjoying, period.
Oh klonopin, relieve me of my life for tonight. I cannot face my living self right now. I can only hope for morning.
One of the sick things about reading your journal is while I cannot fully comprehend what you are going through, there is a part of me which understands. It's not scary and frightening, it just... is. And now I sound like a cheesey lifetime movie, haha.