My head was very cloudy last night. The Target event left me feeling down. Very down.
I considered writing, but I had exhausted my capacity to write yesterday. Or maybe it was just the ability of my fingers to type
s as much as they had earlier in the day. In any case, the joints are fairly sore today. I recall when I was completing my Masters and had to write thousands of words in a day, that my fingers and wrists would become sore. Perhaps it was because although my mum had afforded me the privilege of a touch typing course when I was in my teens, I am in fact now, only a two-finger typist. It is not very efficient and it makes this writing business much more difficult. And frustrating when the writing helps so much, but my body cannot keep up with my mind, or be available when my head needs it to be.
I am trying to get this writing in before the extra dosage of medication kicks in and fogs my brain for a little while. I know that this early cloudiness will only be for a few days until my system integrates it. The intrusive thoughts are definitely less, and ironically are limited to coming later in the day; at about ten-to-six. However I am getting better at catching them before they take hold. Mindfulness.
I was very down last night. I was getting ready for bed, but feeling very… empty. I had a shower, expressed some milk. Empty.
Intrusive thoughts in a psychotic episode are scary and invade your head, often from nowhere. When you are at your lowest. I had one fleeting, quiet intrusive thought as I stood limply in front of the bathroom mirror feeling defeated by the Target incident and gently, mindlessly massaging cream into my face and neck when
Maybe it would just be easier if you finished it.
I completed suicide intervention training with ASIST when I was studying my undergraduate. A thought of this kind was an indication that my brain was heading down a dangerous path. The new medication called Risperidone was still to take full effect. Mindfulness.
I took myself from my room to the lounge and asked mum to make me a cup of warm milk with honey and vanilla (for some reason it just does not taste as good, nor act as well in allowing me to relax if I make it) and I simultaneously made myself some peanut butter on toast (Master X. is intolerant to peanuts and tree nuts so it has been five months since I have been able to eat it; and I LOVE nuts).
But I was still empty. So I started to eat chocolate covered rice cakes. In bed.
Empty. Not to be confused with hunger.
But after an afternoon and evening of dragging around the blackness (normally the days are grey anyway, but black is really hard to cope with) I just wanted to fill something. So I filled my stomach as I watched Suddenly Thirty.
Terrible romantic comedies and teenage flicks (and books) are my go-to at the moment. They are so frustratingly mindless that my brain just switches to start paying them out, thereby taking the attention from me and how terrible I feel about whatever had triggered the intrusive thoughts:
- Sadness connected to the end of breastfeeding
- Physical and emotional fallout from lack of sleep
- Inability to ‘just pull myself out of it’
- The ongoing trauma of the psychotic episode
I look forward to today though. I did end up sleeping from
twelve in the morning midnight, and so my thoughts thus far are above the line. The invisible, however affective and impacting line of mental wellbeing.
If you or someone you know is experiencing thoughts of suicide please contact Lifeline immediately 13 11 14