Slowly Going Sane

The poorly edited journal of recovery

Friday, May 15, 2009

Dying so you can live

Cordelia Brown died today.

She stopped taking her epilepsy medication because it was clouding her mind.

Yes.

I dont advocate the decision, but I understand it. Periodically, I am victim to suicidal ideation. Deep black holes of dispair with no up and no out, and only death to cut it. They pass, but its impossible to realize that when you are locked in the darkness, even if your mind appreciates the fact. There is a soul killing deadness in your cells, crying out for surcease, and only momentum keeps you alive.



My parents and friends have made it clear that they do not support my decision not to take a medication to prevent these darknesses. Their concern is understandable--- why risk losing your life on a chemical downswing which could be gone tomorrow, or prevented with pill. Unless you have taken them, and even if you have, you cannot appreciate the nasty bargain you make when you pump a chmical into your brain. Yes, your mood is biuyed, but its a flat, stuffed, up. I felt bound, tied up and put int eh corner while someone else was at my life. I was living life like there was somethign on the tip of my tongue, so I took the chance and choose to heal without them.

Look, this is not a recommendation. Its an understanding. My friend P was dating a girl in high school, who quit her medications and reverted to psychosis so abruptly that she ended up in a mental ward for over a year. I asked her why once, and she said that she didn't feel like her anymore. She prefered insanity to that. Did she make the right decision? Lord, I dont know. Did Cornelia? She is dead. But I cannot judge her. I read this article adn I understood and I support her decision, even if I would not have made it. Just like i support my step mom's decision to take an anti-depressant. I am not saying either one is right, its just that they both make sense. SOmetimes dying is not the worst thing that can happen to you.

Rest in peace.

Thursday, May 07, 2009

too much

Strangley I think I have too mucht to write to write.

I dont know wher to start. its like trying to take a bite of a basketball. I just keep passing over it waiting for inspiration.

So, I wont.

I am at 13 b9s. I have been under a darkness for sometime and I wonder if that is related. I suspect not. I suspect that the cause is that I am not wincing and running from the current dark as I have for the other 29 years since I remember them begginging, filling the cold with travel, company, drama, adentures, impossible [hycial pursuits, deprivation, and a million other spikes of narcotic avoidance that numb the pain and pass it until tomorrow.

This time I stare unblinking into the darkness and confront the fears and quiets within it. This time I notice and record the feelings that come up. The desire to run, to abandon, to ignore, to run screaming from the banality of it.

Somehow this is connected with my healing. This sense of feeling again. Of letting go of the illness as an excuse to keep from trying, or hurting, or taking chances. its time to stand and confront that fear of abandonment, and that mental illness or the being of me, will inevitably lead to being abandoned.

The body heals, and the mind heals, but seldom on the same schedule. It sea saws like this for me. Today, the mind and I have some time to spend together.

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