I have literally been through jungles of hell and oceans of brimstone. To the edge of sanity and back again. Hangin out with dark angels. And a tumultuous love affair - fuck fest - with Lucifer (amazing sex...pronged tongue and all).
It's been a ride like I never could have imagined. I have written about my 'wild' past and my deep intense emotions. Drama. Crisis. Woe is me. I am a Bitch. Whatever. True - but, I had NO idea. Dropping years and years worth of masks is no small undertaking. It's painful. Brutal.
After too much self-inflicted 'abuse' of my mind, soul and body - combined with a whole lotta other shit - I finally shut down. But, not after a HUGE combustion. A literal mental implosion.
Undiagnosed manic depression. Living to the extreme. Taking risks beyond just 'dares'...more like 'what-the-fucks'. Drugs. Stronger drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Stronger drugs. More alcohol. Kinkier sex. Addictions to speed - any kind.
Driving super fast on curvy roads - one wrong move and off a cliff into the ocean below.
Motorcycle - no helmet - leaning forward - going as fast as possible - everything around me is a blur.
ATV'ing on sand dunes - too fast on dunes too big - throwing me off the seat and white-knuckling the handle bars.
Horse back riding in Mexico - bareback - on the beach - as fast as that bitch could run. And that bitch was FAST.
4-wheeling in muddy marshes - sometimes turning my jeep on two wheels, left leg hanging out of the door-less door (like my leg could stop me from turning over).
Full speed in the twin engine inflatable (a boat that kicks major ass) - going about 70mph in rough seas - hanging on to the handles for dear life - salt water slapping me in the face as I swallow it (my mouth wide open from laughing hysterically - a mix of elation and fear).
Fast cars. Fast life. Not dangerous...not exciting...not even just intense...stoopid. I don't know how I lived through it all. Sometimes - like when I feel the way I do lately - I sorta wish I hadn't. Blech...cleaning up is a bitch.
Skip ahead a few years - misdiagnosed BP. Not good. Given an anti-depressant known to cause mania (which I found out years later...surprise...manic time).
The meds aren't 'working (no wonder) - misdiagnosed again. ADD ( I am beginning to think this is NOT even a real disorder). Given Adderall. Adderall - a proper/formal way of saying 'amphetamines'. Basically - meth. Speed. Only difference...it's legal. Score.
I was taking 90mg of amphetamines every single day for over a year. Sometimes more. You can imagine the toll this took on my already risk-ravaged mind and body - and the BP which was still brewing inside of me.
Take one manic depressive woman - add a manic inducing drug - stop drug after mania ensues - start her on straight speed - sit back and watch the show. Holy shit.
Two years of this - adding and taking away this drug and that. Malnutrition - not wanting to eat...ever. Sleep deprivation (speed will do that to ya) - and BPs don't sleep much as it is.
Add some drama. Homelessness. Ruthless marital issues. Stir in some new drugs to counteract the other drugs to counteract the other drugs...
Manic episodes become a daily routine. Constant mental - verbal 'seizures'. Agitation turns into violence. Rage turns into terrifying thoughts of murder and pain. Depression mixed with rage equals attempted suicides (not pretty). I only say 'attempted' cuz for some reason I just didn't die (thank GOD!!!).
Labeled. Branded. Manic. Abusive. Freak. Crazy. I was. I knew it. But, it spiraled. And spiraled. Until...
Full blown psychosis. Literally psychotic. Like psych-ward patient insane. Authentically insane. It was the most terrifying, surreal, confusing thing EVER. It's not even explainable. Even for me...and I am known to explain...a lot.
It was like my mind was a balloon that's a couple days old and the helium is still in it, so it just drifts in the middle of the room - sometimes clinging to the ceiling - sometimes hovering over the carpet. Moving dramatically with the slightest draft. Even a small breath can send it spiraling out of control.
I had to use ever fiber of my being - every cell - every ounce of any resilience or strength I had left - every single minute of every day - to stay 'here'. To stay sane. I would 'drift'.
It was sheer torture.
Panic attacks. I was like a small animal cowering in the corner, eyes wide open, dilated pupils, ears held back firmly on its head, trembling - and I would lose it and start to RUN. Where? Don't know. I just had to get out.
Involuntary body movements. Convulsions. Tremors. Swaying. Tunnel vision. Hallucinations. Slurred speech. Stuttering. Numbing. Tingling. Fainting spells. Tics. And the ever-constant psychosis.
After a hospital visit and a psych visit - the Adderall was stopped immediately (which has been hell on earth physically). I go back to the hospital this week since we are thinking the psychosis - Adderall - other shit - seems as though I had a stroke.
Not the stroke we think of like old people have - one side of the body and all that. It's a stroke in the central part of the brain - the nervous system - cognitive - 'bleeding in the brain'. It felt like it. Truly.
I still feel like shit. But, it's 90% physical - recovering from my days of insanity.
Bruises all over my body from slashing myself around the room - wrapping a vacuum plug around my neck - trying to smash a frame over my head - running myself into furniture - spasming onto the floor in fits of rage.
Exhaustion - physical and mental. Nausea...always. Still some body tremors. Aches and pains from the ceaseless convulsions and trembling.
Tired. Just. So. Tired.
Wonderful. Renewed. Reborn.
Grounded. Solid. Stronger.
And psychosis is EXCELLENT fodder for my writing. Once I can write again. These are the first real 'words' I have written in what seems like ages. It is still hard - this took me over an hour.
My brain is still trying to catch up. My fingers are still sore. And I am still a little to close to the edge of sanity to safely tap into the treasure trove of my psychotic trip as of yet.