I Guess The Voices Are Speaking. They Just Snuck Up On Me Is All.

I feel:: like an insomniac

I realize with a very keen sight (even for myself) that this being depressed-all-the-time-shit is getting really old. So old, in fact, that it's growing moss. I know that to post something about my self-destructive-ness/depression/suicidal ideations in every post is b-o-r-i-n-g.

The thing is, I can help it just now. I have this physical ache right in the middle of my sternum like something is pressing down on me. In turn, this makes me feel physically empty. Yes, my internal organs are all in place, but you know what I mean. Right? I can't be the only one who has ever felt this way. (Incidentally, logic tells me that I'm not alone, but that little depressed voice in my head is always there ready to tell me that no-you are all alone-an outsider looking in on those wonderfully normal people and you could never be that way no matter how hard you try-no matter what you do. I fucking hate that voice.)

I can't seem to even begin to heal from David's death-he was my brother. I fucking miss fucking Marshall like he was a chocolate bar and I was premenstrual. It's taking every ounce of will power I have not to chase him down like some crazed fat lady in Wal-Mart at 5am looking for a chocolate fix. I am a glutton for punishment. I AM IN LOVE WITH A MAN WHO NEVER COMMUNICATES WITH ME. Holy shit. He's just like my dad.He even has an old, beat up recliner that he falls asleep in while watching football. Oh God, he is my dad. Oedipus complex anyone? I seem to have enough to go around. Just leave the Freudian slip at the door when you come in. (The Masochist wants permission to say "Hi." So there. Hi. Go away.)

I did start new meds about a week and a half ago and I felt better for a few days, but now I'm back to where I was before. I'm taking only 25mg of Lamictal right now (Remember I mentioned that blistery rash if the dosage is upped too fast?), which is not even considered a therapeutic dose. I won't be into the therapeutic dosages until sometime next week- 50mg-that's for another two weeks. Then 100mg for two weeks, then I'll go up to 250mg/day, which is what my psychiatrist wants me on.

God, I hope this medicine works. A few hours earlier, I was standing in the kitchen getting something to drink and had this overwhelming urge to check out Dad's knife he got in Korea because I remembered that I had seen him sharpening it the other day. So, after staring at it for what seemed like aeons, I picked it up and decided to test out how sharp it was-on myself. Turns out it's not very sharp. Guess Dad's been out dulling the knives on the trees in the back yard when I'm not home. It's extremely hard to imagine him doing that, though. Too much energy expenditure. I mean, why do that when he can sit in his recliner and fall asleep watching football?

I can't sleep, again. And this time, amazingly, I'm not having entire conversations with different Spanish people in my head. What's weird is that there are no voices going on right now. I have tried to keep myself pretty occupied all day because I woke up feeling really achey this morning. Could be why the voices haven't been very locquacious today. I've cried a couple of times today and I've actually laughed, but I haven't left the house since Wednesday (The Pan-Dimensional Hoochie Coochie Day).

Here comes the gross part: I haven't showered in like two weeks. Well, since the time I colored my hair, which was like Thursday before last I think.

You know, just between you and me, I'd really, really like to be able to maintain basic care of myself. For some reason, right now, I can't do it on a regular basis. I do manage the Ho-bath, though. Y'all know what I'm taking about, right? I don't have to explain that? And I do manage to brush my teeth every day. So, I guess I'm semi-gross. Or I could just be in denial, which it seems lately I'm seeing more and more of in myself.

The last time I talked with my therapist, the Wednesday before last, he mentioned in passing that I might need in-patient care. That really scares me. I don't want to be around a bunch of people who are crazier than me. I have enough trouble dealing with my own bullshit.