A Different Kind of Hurricane

Two weeks of relative peace should have been my first indication that things were going to change. The second indicator should have been the uncontrollable urge to shop my ass off yesterday (which I did); the third would have been the niggling irritations every time I got behind the wheel of the car and ventured out on the road: things are not going well and I'm headed for trouble.

Storms-emotional storms. Wicked, wild, up and down mood swings that leave me exhausted and frustrated, and my family as well. And if I recognize that it's happening, why can't I stop it? Ah, there's the $64,000 question. Why indeed?

As much as possible, I work to keep it away from the family, but it works only on a limited basis, and typically extends as far as the kids. My husband recognizes the warning/danger signs and offers as much help as he can.

I'm going to explode. I have this small, never-ending headache~~just enough to cause me constant irritation. I'm anxiety-ridden. My heart-rate is up around 120 bpm. I feel like I'm on fire. My body feels full...sort of like an over-inflated balloon. If you touch me, I'll erupt--messily, wildly, noisily. I have trouble forming coherent thoughts and the simplest task seems monumentous. And I'm so angry. Mostly at my husband. There's no real reason. It's been coming for days. I'll work hard not to take it out on him, and won't call him names or shriek, etc, but I feel sullen and uncommunicative. Mostly, I need to crawl into a shell and just close it up after me. I'm safe when I cut myself off. That way, I don't go off on anyone. The downside is that when I disappear inside myself, sometimes I don't come out for a long, long time...

It hurts. Not mentally. PHYSICALLY. It's an ache in my chest that won't go away. I want to scream and rage and tell SOMEONE to fix it, and no one seems to be able to.

I need help.

I sit with my head in my hands trying to figure out something, anything, that will change this. I can go look through the links I have listed on my own site, but the irony is that when it gets this bad, I don't want to look, I can't focus and I don't think I'm capable of doing the work required to get through this without some sort of violent crisis. Posting this is so hard.

It's dinnertime and my family is eating and I don't want it. Mostly what I want is someone to ask me something that I can use to pick a fight, but I'm old enough that I know I can't allow that to happen, because no matter how horrible I feel, no matter how awful the illness is, no matter how strong it's hold, I am still responsible for the choices I make. That doesn't make it better: that simply means that when it gets the better of me, I'll inevitably end up with boundless guilt when I start feeling more rational.

Sleep is elusive these days~late nights coupled with poor quality sleep mean that I'm nearly always tired. I have huge dark circles under my eyes, and my psychiatrist, who determines what medications I'll be on, cancelled my appt due to illness and it will be another month until I see her. My therapist is away (again) and it will be the end of the month before I see him. He's always away. The urge to hurt myself is strong. What stops me is the disappointment and sadness I see in my husband's face when he knows I've cut myself. It's been nearly four months and I don't want to ruin that now.

I want to vomit. I want to run. You see, I'm a runner-when things get this bad, I take off. I want to get in the car and go. My husband won't let me, though. He knows that I'm a danger to myself and others, so will take the keys to keep me safe. Tonight I don't want to be saved. Tonight I just want to go.

Are blogs supposed to be funny?