Waking Up And Tuning Out

After a near miss this afternoon of a metal object flying across the highway, I made it home shaky, but convinced I would tell Michael about these "people" driving cars and walking around communicating telepathically with me; and the messages on the license plates and on the trucks; and how I need to wear certain colors on certain days; and how people communicate to me through the radio and television. I should not have been surprised when he said this was just one big delusion that has been going on for months -- and he instructed me to load up on some extra Seroquel and Haldol.

I retreated to my room, bawling like a baby, howling and moaning, in such pain. Why am I being tortured like this? Why do these delusions feel so real? When will they go away? I need more and more medicine...I want to be totally drugged out at this point. I want to stay in a dark, cold room under the covers. And I do not want to come out, I do not want to see anyone.

I had this "dream" that I was the Queen "Honey Bee" and everyone was surrounding me with love and support. Federal agents and police officers were providing protection so no one could hurt me. One day I would be installed (if you can call it that) formally, and everyone would be happy and harmonious and there would be lots of laughter.

But no, as Michael reminds me, this is just one big delusion my mind has concocted. Where all this came from I don't know. It's cruel and painful and it's oh so clear that I'm headed straight back to AGC of Ohio. What joy.

Thoughts of suicide flicker here and there but I won't go through with it. No, I'll suffer through this the whole way through. That's why I need more drugs. I thought I was doing okay, feeling stable, but when Michael told me nothing I thought about my situation was true -- no one had told him anything -- everything fell apart. So hit me with the mother-load of extra medication. Right quick.

I'm so very dejected tonight, dear readers. I'd go out and get smashed at a bar but I'm an alcoholic and have been sober for a month. I'm on Anabuse and if I drink anything I will get very, very sick. There's no pot here, so I can't get stoned. I just have to wait for the pills to (hopefully) kick in and knock me out.

I bid you adieu tonight with a very heavy heart and huge tears welling up in my eyes. I'm so ill. I wish this wasn't the case. I thought I was making progress, I thought I was connecting with people. I thought positive growth was coming. And I thought my decades of suffering were over. Sadly, this is not to be.