washingtonbound
Bluelighter
I don’t mean to bore everyone with another bitching session from me, I‘m just getting to the point where I can’t tolerate living with myself anymore. I don’t know where to turn because no psychiatrist or psychologist has helped me, in fact many have done great harm. I cannot do things like psychedelic therapy because of my condition and have been looking into things like Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, which unfortunately is not covered by my insurance. So I’m left chasing my tail again and am feeling really lost.
Over the course of my life, I’ve been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, Schizoaffective Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, PTSD, ADD, and generalized anxiety and depression. I’m also quite certain I have Pure O OCD that hasn’t been addressed because I don’t exhibit noticeable compulsions and obsessive thoughts are considered to exist comorbidly with my other conditions. Anyway, I don’t really give a shit about the diagnoses but the point is, I am tortured by my internal world 24/7. It has rendered me unable to work and currently I collect a measly $500 dollars a month in social security disability (they lowered it from $850 to $500 when they determined that my mom was covering most of my living expenses). Anyway, it is a sad situation for me because throughout all this I‘ve always perceived that I could do better. But for the past ten years, after my Schizoaffective diagnosis presented itself during a psychotic episode from weed at 19 (at first they called it bipolar type 1), any mental issues I had in high school that could’ve been dealt with differently compounded into the nightmare I’m dealing with today.
I’m now at the point where I fight with what I deem to be another entity inside my head, which bombards me with the most repugnant, irrational intrusive thoughts on a daily basis. I have lost the ability to control urges to self harm, and have developed what I’m pretty sure is eustachian tube dysfunction in my right ear. I will scream at this entity to fuck off, randomly in the middle of the day, and often bang my head against the wall until I’m seeing spots. The vein on the right side of my head protrudes from me repeatedly hitting my temple, and I’m worried I’ve done some type of permanent damage. And this is all because of this thing which I consider to “not be me,” degrades me with these disgusting thoughts which make no sense and rarely have anything to do with the present. I’m in this constant useless war with myself that no one around me can really understand, and often results in me just being judged for being really spacey or slow.
I could write a whole book describing this voice or whatever it is, but the point I want to get across is how horrifying it is to have the rational capacity to understand that what you’re doing is ridiculous and destroying yourself, yet continuing to do so as if helplessly watching a derailed train. The only things that provided relief, psychedelic drugs, are no longer an option to use because another psychotic episode is pretty much guaranteed. My insistence to continue “finding myself“ through psychedelics and to hopefully eradicate the disgusting voice voice in my head has resulted in almost thirty times spent in psychiatric hospitals and six times in other types of facilities. That amounts to almost three years of my life total spent in treatment involuntarily. This has compounded the PTSD I experienced from being forced out of my bed at five am and sent to “wilderness therapy“ and a boarding school for troubled teens at 16 which took away my junior and half of my senior year of high school, and alienated me from my friends.
Anyway, I realize that self loathing and rumination is pointless but I really needed to vent. People don’t understand me, they have no idea I’m battling a monster 24/7, and I’ve alienated myself entirely from any potential friends due to psychotic episodes and my repulsive personality. No one wants to hear about “that crazy guy‘s bullshit whose always in the looney bin,” or whatever else people say about me behind my back. Currently I’m planning to try to live in rural Colombia on my disability check and some other measly passive income I get from Spotify, and if I don’t see some improvement to my health, I think it’s time to take some pentobarbital to the head and check out.
I guess the point I’m making is - what’s the point of trying to get through this life when you have serious mental baggage on top of all the horrible stuff the world is dealing with? I’m losing hope each day.
Over the course of my life, I’ve been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, Schizoaffective Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, PTSD, ADD, and generalized anxiety and depression. I’m also quite certain I have Pure O OCD that hasn’t been addressed because I don’t exhibit noticeable compulsions and obsessive thoughts are considered to exist comorbidly with my other conditions. Anyway, I don’t really give a shit about the diagnoses but the point is, I am tortured by my internal world 24/7. It has rendered me unable to work and currently I collect a measly $500 dollars a month in social security disability (they lowered it from $850 to $500 when they determined that my mom was covering most of my living expenses). Anyway, it is a sad situation for me because throughout all this I‘ve always perceived that I could do better. But for the past ten years, after my Schizoaffective diagnosis presented itself during a psychotic episode from weed at 19 (at first they called it bipolar type 1), any mental issues I had in high school that could’ve been dealt with differently compounded into the nightmare I’m dealing with today.
I’m now at the point where I fight with what I deem to be another entity inside my head, which bombards me with the most repugnant, irrational intrusive thoughts on a daily basis. I have lost the ability to control urges to self harm, and have developed what I’m pretty sure is eustachian tube dysfunction in my right ear. I will scream at this entity to fuck off, randomly in the middle of the day, and often bang my head against the wall until I’m seeing spots. The vein on the right side of my head protrudes from me repeatedly hitting my temple, and I’m worried I’ve done some type of permanent damage. And this is all because of this thing which I consider to “not be me,” degrades me with these disgusting thoughts which make no sense and rarely have anything to do with the present. I’m in this constant useless war with myself that no one around me can really understand, and often results in me just being judged for being really spacey or slow.
I could write a whole book describing this voice or whatever it is, but the point I want to get across is how horrifying it is to have the rational capacity to understand that what you’re doing is ridiculous and destroying yourself, yet continuing to do so as if helplessly watching a derailed train. The only things that provided relief, psychedelic drugs, are no longer an option to use because another psychotic episode is pretty much guaranteed. My insistence to continue “finding myself“ through psychedelics and to hopefully eradicate the disgusting voice voice in my head has resulted in almost thirty times spent in psychiatric hospitals and six times in other types of facilities. That amounts to almost three years of my life total spent in treatment involuntarily. This has compounded the PTSD I experienced from being forced out of my bed at five am and sent to “wilderness therapy“ and a boarding school for troubled teens at 16 which took away my junior and half of my senior year of high school, and alienated me from my friends.
Anyway, I realize that self loathing and rumination is pointless but I really needed to vent. People don’t understand me, they have no idea I’m battling a monster 24/7, and I’ve alienated myself entirely from any potential friends due to psychotic episodes and my repulsive personality. No one wants to hear about “that crazy guy‘s bullshit whose always in the looney bin,” or whatever else people say about me behind my back. Currently I’m planning to try to live in rural Colombia on my disability check and some other measly passive income I get from Spotify, and if I don’t see some improvement to my health, I think it’s time to take some pentobarbital to the head and check out.
I guess the point I’m making is - what’s the point of trying to get through this life when you have serious mental baggage on top of all the horrible stuff the world is dealing with? I’m losing hope each day.
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