I live about 30-40 miles outside Austin, TX - location of the deliberate plane crash in northwest Austin (I recognise the place, I remember searching for a Party Pig last Halloween drove right by it). I also took a look at Joe Stack's manifesto\suicide "note" that spells out a number of things. This was obviously not impulsive, he had obviously been thinking this if not planning it for a long while. I do however, fail to understand why everyone keeps using the word "shocked" to describe this. Ok yeah I wasn't expecting to wake up this morning & see a plane had flew into an Austin building, but are people really surprised that "one of their own" would do this?
I am not.
Being the utter pacifist that I am, it may seem odd that I can understand, in a way, why he had so much anger. I have rage, not a violent rage, but I am certainly angry. I do not sympathise, but I understand.

I have an insecurity that makes me feel at fault for my life, but when I think about it I mostly blame the outside world. The extroverted, oversexed, undereducated, oversocial, money-hungry, delusional outside world. I often feel that if I had been placed in a better state, better country, better anywhere that I would not have these problems. I came this way, but I feel that my every flaw has been exacerbated by the outside, the real world sucks, so I create a better one, one that is all my own.
Sometimes I think that if I were not poor, if I had not been subjected to this discusting "system" that this state based upon, then I would have had the best everything. The best education (any education I wanted), the best friends, the brightest future, the best psychological treatment (a crappy MHMR with overworked, underpaid pdocs that have grown bitter & tired is not what I need) then I would be much better off. Sometimes I feel a bit of irritation at my parents, but I know they did not cause this, besides it's hard to be mad at something you can't physically see.

Joe Stack's life is the life that I fear I will have, trying & trying to live, over & over again, only to be pushed back down. Your talent & your ideas & your prospects wasted, wasted.
And you know how much I want to do all that? Not very much. I do feel that an introvert, an Enneagram type Four, a me, has a great potential. I have always dreamt of changing the world, but how? How can I when I live somewhere that ensures that you will stay in your place, get knocked up at 15, live off food stamps (if you are "poor enough" for them of course), work several jobs, and be so busy that your kids have no sense of what the world means & grow up ignorant. That is the plan, that is what was planned for me, so that people like me with a fucking IQ number don't change anything.

So kamikaze missions into an IRS building? Not my idea of the right solution, but do I ever know what it's like to have a massive foot pushing your head into the ground.
"I saw it written once that the definition of insanity is repeating the same process over and over and expecting the outcome to suddenly be different", well yes but violence has been repeated over & over again for quite some time now. And things haven't gotten much better.

So where that leaves me, who knows. My Lamictal has been working I think (25mg still, low but no cycling since I began, except for some late last night), I've been much less melencholy & more stable. I have been less tied up in the Schizoid\Avoidant mess, which has been good for my overworked brain.

So to all a good night.

Good news, I was prescribed Lamictal today. It must be introduced veeeerrrrry sloooooowwwwly because of a risk of a potentially dangerous rash (itching in my brain is the most worrysome problem as of now)
I took my first 25mg tab tonight, and I balled my eyes out! Could this really be it?
Please god let it be true, let this be the beginning of the end of this godamned mess.
I feel so hopeful, a real possibility of having a stable life, whatever (else) has been wrong with my mind may be about to really change.

Yes I'd like the magnificent ups again......(hehe, I remember my first big uppity spell a few weeks ago thinking "wow, is this mania? this is fucking GREAT! wow, this is why bipolars don't like to take their meds sometimes) but you know they last a fraction as long as the damn downs do so F it. If I had never had that happen at such a convenient time then I still would be wondering if I were bipolar or not. And maybe not starting on the Lamb (that's what I'm going to call Lamictal). I was ready to retire there for awhile, ready to throw in the towel & revert to living a hermit life & die of anorexia. Hindsight is 20\20 & didn't see it then, but that depression spell was bad. I knew it was bad when I kept thinking of what it would feel like to die & all that, but you can't see the outside of a house while you're in it. And that house was dilapidated & crumbling.

I was in the waiting room for the appointment & thought I'd do a little prayer to my HP, I did. I believe god did a little somethin' somethin' because I ended up having to see a nurse practitioner rather than usual psychiatrist. Oh good lord was she ever better, treated me with respect, I felt validated & didn't feel like a damn hypochondriac who's decided they're bipolar.

Let it be true.

You know it is so funny how I, who have never done any sort of drug (pot once or twice, highly overrated) can identify so profoundly with all sorts of addicts. Tyra Banks did a show on suburban heroin\crack addicts, ah, I know those people! You know that feeling when you feel like you've met someone before, (oh where have I seen them before) those four kids they had on, I just swore I've seen them before. Not a physical recognition, just that I know those people, I get it. I get why she can sit there & know it's bad, know it will kill her & go on & do it afterwards. I can sit here & type about oh how bad my fantasy illness is, doesn't mean I'm not going to go back to my bed & do it.

I definitely got when she said that she would marry her crack pipe. yes! yes!
I've seen my eating disorder as my true love, my fantasies, my love, my everything. Together forever. And you know what, I've had that feeling, that understanding & feeling of almost deja vu with "those people" (any addict, drinker, depressive, bipolar, borderline, obsessive-compulsive....) a long while before I got any insight into myself.
I figured because I have been addicted to my world, all along I've been one of "those people."


Saturday was a good day, stable & just very nice. I felt content, but one thing happened that freaked me to no end. I sat down to read my book & sip some water when all of sudden this image just jumped into my head, of me probably about 15 to 20 pounds thinner, (now I have been having some body-image-bad-fat-oh-god issues, but nothing so severe that I would relapse, just a string of a few bad body days, oh and I had just checked myself out in the mirror)
okay.... not something good to think about.
Then I just space out, stare off into space as this plays in my head, I keep getting thinner, sickly so, and not the idealised perfect thin, I mean bad. Sagging face, hollow cheeks, veins protruding, discolored skin, dry thin hair. The image is so clear, I can see my face, my face on what's left of this sick creature, I am looking at my body, poking, prodding, turning, posing like I always have. This would be the very lowest weight that I could possibly be & not be dead.

I start getting scared, it won't get our of my head, this is scary, just "get out! get out of my head!" I have my head in my hands, I keep trying to concentrate on reading.
It gets worse though, then I start having words pop in my head 'I've finally erased myself' ' 'this can be you.'
This maybe went on for about ten or fifteen minutes, then finally subside.
I can't quite put into words what it was like, but in a way it was beneficial, I can remember it as a warning; the empty shell of the person who once was there, I saw her.

I think they call it intrusive thoughts, it wasn't thinking that I could control, it played like a dream. I have had that happen before, but what was so odd is that I was in a good mood, not a crazy good mood, just calm & content.
I remember having one of those one time several years back when I was wide awake in bed, it was so disturbing I don't want to relive it, but it just came & went. I do think I was depressed then, but what the F was that?

I wish mental illness were a personal failing, an inability to cope, my fault. If it was then I could fix it, I could own up & correct it. But it's something I was born with, a genetically predetermined yet random bran condition. Reaching into my head & corrects the misfired neurons & serotonin & whatever-nephrine is just not as easy as it sounds.

I had a rollercoaster week after my last nutty post, although I have been normal for three days now. Hmmmm, nice but now that I've had such a high up I wish it'd happen again.
Stable is nice, but..... *whispers* I miss the high

:/