The Wrong Film

Today I watched a film. Sort of.

It was meant to be Titanic but after a good hour I realised that it was Lord of the Rings. And it was on silent.

So what had I been listening to, even – wrong film aside, easy mistake to make probably. Different colour, greenish browns instead of blueish greys but never mind. I’d thought the words were a bit off but apparently not quiiite managed to put two and two together. Or rather I did, but in this case 2+2 equalled banana.

Rose was telling me MI5 was watching. Probably that should have been a clue. That and all the other people chanting ‘reborn’ constantly.

I have given up watching TV for today.

Er… Meds and Stuff I Suppose

Oh I am so happy, oh I am so happy *sings*

Possibly too happy… BUT I trusted other people’s judgement and they said phone your CPN, so I did.

She wasn’t there.

(Because she works between HomeTown and two other nearby towns).

But the duty person has emailed her.

I (and husband has agreed) want to drop my duloxetine back down to 15mg (that is 30mg one day, nothing the next, rinse and repeat).  I may have to change antidepressant – this one seems to make me loopy, although only recently! I’m only on 30mg now and have been for two weeks (up from 15mg, and I was kind of low, but I was also on more quetiapine then and I’m now down to 200mg, so that may also be partially to blame, I don’t even know anymore).

So I expect she’ll phone on Thursday, when I can’t talk properly because I’m O-U-T-side. I don’t know what else to do, I’m avoiding everything on my trigger list and aggravation list (coffee, certain types of music, some other things I’ve forgotten already).

Oh I don’t want the quetiapine put up again. Too much makes me lethargic and hungry. It’s not like the voices went – they were quieter yes, that’s true, and much easier to deal with, but they were coming back and those saving-the-world thoughts were coming back (although they are back now – but can I do it? I think I can and I think I have to). I don’t know what I want even. I don’t want to be drugged into zombie-uncaring-state-of-gradual-depression. I don’t want to be damagingly manic, but although I was that before, I don’t think I am that now, and I don’t think I will be as I am on more meds than before.

I can’t think now, I’m having a hard time controlling my thoughts. And my sleep is dropping off again. And my moodscope score is increasing again.

I alarmed people on the train I think – no one sat near me and people kept glancing at me nervously. I assume these specific people were in.on.it. Police everywhere. It’s all part of it. The notebooks are filling up again.

Urgh, I can’t even remember the point of this post. Like the last one. I think I just wanted to try and get some thoughts in order. Hmm. Bullet points:

  • I want duloxetine down to 15mg.
  • I want quetiapine the same or less.
  • I want the voices to go away (I don’t like that word, you know the one).
  • I want the meanings to come clearer so I can get my saving-the-world done.

Right – so if I write that down somewhere accessible I can repeat it back to my CPN!

Medication – The Outcome

Well for now I’m carrying on with the meds. Husband has stated that although he won’t force me to take them, he knows I’ll get ill without them. Really, what has settled it for now is that as a mental health nursing student he gives people these exact meds all the time and he knows it doesn’t hurt them. He says he’d never let me get hurt so if the meds were going to hurt me then he wouldn’t want me to take them.

The problem with this is still the same – he doesn’t hear what I hear and he doesn’t believe what the voices say is true. I tried to explain that they’re on my side and just trying to keep me safe. The noise wants me to take the meds.

Every morning and every night is a fight to take the meds. The tap water is still poisoned – so no water, nothing cooked with water, so I drink juice, or I don’t drink. I think I’m drinking enough, no thirst or other problems to speak of other than being a bit tired (but that could be a touch of anaemia judging from the colour of my lips). I’m on a protein shake diet so I’m getting 660ml of liquid a day that way anyway. I won’t die of thirst anyway.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to get hurt. People are trying to hurt me and kill me. I don’t know how to fight them, I don’t know how to go on the offence. Everything I do is reactionary and defensive.

That Chip

Some people came to my house today.  I didn’t know them but the voices reminded me of COURSE I know them. Them, Them, it’s always Them.  I didn’t answer the door.  I watched them walk down the road.  A bald man in a suit, short, using a pair of crutches.  A woman, taller than him, in a flowery dress, curly grey hair.  A young couple in suits. Today calls for regular window-watching sessions.

Considering a red blood cell is 8μm in diameter, the smallest of highly developed chips at 5μm could definitely sit in the human heart or brain and never show up on the average ECG or CT scan or MRI or anything.  It still causes issues in my heart of course, it still causes arrhythmia sometimes, or palpitations, I don’t know what to call them.  I’ve had an ECG but they didn’t see anything.  It was short, seconds, just a few heart beats and since the chip doesn’t interfere all the time why would it even show.

Research on my part seems to say that using different frequencies They can control the chip – flood me with dopamine for example.  The voices agree, my emotions are definitely being controlled.  I can only conclude I am not bipolar, and I am not ill.  The next question is: does that mean medication is still necessary? On the one hand it might control my re-uptake of whichever chemical, on the other hand it might be completely superfluous.

Control

I think I might be starting to lose control of my life, again.  I have (had?) a handle on my mood – it’s a bit low, but is it depression?  I’m not sure, but what are my early warning signs… I’ve forgotten.  It always raises a flag when my dad cooks or tries to take over the cooking of dinner.  It’s his way of looking after me.  He doesn’t always realise he’s doing it, but it does make me question what may or may not be going on with my head.  What are my other warning signs… I swear I wrote them down somewhere… Nope, lost them.

I’ll have to think of some.  Apathy (check), sleeping too much (check), oh what else… I don’t know.  I can’t think.  I can’t think at all.  Things are slipping away from me, out of my control.  Standing in the checkout line at asda (terrified, with someone, but terrified, people following, people watching) I saw they had pay as you go sim cards for sale.  So I think if I get one I can put it in my phone and then they won’t be able to track me, but of course the tracker chip is in the phone as much as the number/data/sim is tracked.  And the bugs on the line… I don’t know how to get rid of them, and then there’s the one in my heart still.  I think this is still in my control, I think I can still tell myself that none of this is real, no one is watching me and no one wants to hurt me.  At the same time I’m modifying my behaviours – not going out alone, avoiding crowded places, trying to blow up the chip in my heart through gymming it.  I’m still here, in reality, I’m sane and I intend to stay that way.  The voices are there of course – mostly nonsense phrases or talking about what I’m doing.  Some instructions, but harmless.  I’m mostly okay, but I need to stay that way.

What am I doing about it?  I have Plan A and Plan B.  Plan A is increase my antidepressant to 45mg a day, which I did… erm… two weeks ago? So I wouldn’t be seeing an improvement in mood just yet.  Plan B is phone my CPN.  I really don’t want to invoke Plan B.  I want to do this on my own, I want to cope on my own, I don’t want to need help.