Losing My Mind for Real

It’s been a while since I was here.

Last Tuesday, I had a terrifying experience, but I have to back up a bit before I begin writing it all down.

I began to get stressed beyond my own comprehension. I hate admitting that I am stressed. I hate the possibility that my schoolwork can be causing me stress. I hate that I am probably stressed out because I care.

It started with a week that looked like this:

Screen Shot 2015-11-16 at 11.54.01 PM

This was my own doing.

In the weeks before the first week of November, I had gone through a pretty traumatizing time that I recorded somewhat on here. I was unable to get out of bed and I was missing everything—class, quizzes, etc. I was lying about my sleeping through everything. I slept and I slept and I was suicidal, so maybe it was better that I slept anyway. The fatigue never ended. It never slipped away.

On the next to last weekend of October, I went for a run. I used to be a runner. Running changed me as a person. Running is a spiritual practice to me. Running is much more than exercise, is the pursuit of moving and pushing the human body, and involves adventure. I stopped running a while ago however because my knees hurt. Actually, this is just an excuse. I lost interest in all the things I was interested in. I don’t have any motivation to exercise. I don’t know what got me to do that. I always feel good after a run. But I am intimidated of starting one.

Enough of the whining about running: the point is that I went running, I had time to contemplate, and I really wanted to do better.

I don’t know if I really recovered from that last episode but during that run I thought I had, I thought I was ready to  move forward and do things. I was happy when I did things. That last week of October was hard. I had a lot of work due but I trudged through it. I remember thinking, just one week of hell work, then halloween, then one more week of hell work, and then chill out for the rest of the semester. I partied on Halloween with friends (I have those!!) and the next morning, my favorite month began.

Obviously, I did not follow through on most of the schedule. I missed the shower. My hopes for my NaNoWriMo story went down the drain—I would not have the time or commitment to do it. I was up past midnight, not even back in the apartment. I was in the art studio or the 24 hour library. I had fun at work, and I worked very hard. On Wednesday I was exhausted and I slept through my evening commitments. I tried to make up for it. I skipped meals or just plain wasn’t hungry to eat anything.

I struggled to sleep. This was no change from the past. I wet the bed at some point, though I think it was before November. This is the second time that happened. The other time was early this past summer. It’s very embarrassing and I didn’t really have a great explanation for it. This time my mom wasn’t here to help  me take care of it. I didn’t have a lot of energy to change sheets or let the mattress dry. I would come home and my room was a mess of sheets. I didn’t sleep well. It took so long to get rid of the urine smell.

In the second week of November strange other things began to surface, starting on the weekend. I went to visit a family friend on Saturday. I had so much homework too, but I went anyway because I knew it was something I needed to do. It was terrible. There were so many people who were spending so much time judging me. I was out of place. There were not supposed to be that many people. My anxiety skyrocketed. Usually, my depression trumps my anxiety. The anxiety took the wheel for the rest of the week. I was unusually more anxious. I got confused easily but I thought that was just me being me. A metallic taste began to surface in my mouth, and I attributed it to my bad dental hygiene. The memory lapses were the most terrifying. At work, one of the managers said “what did you say?” I told him I didn’t say anything, but he was positive I did. It was so odd. Then began the talking. Talk, talk, talk in my head that wouldn’t end. It was like my mind was on fast forward. I could not stop my thoughts. I was having conversations in my head with other people, friends or something, about honestly anything—politics, society, life, etc. I think part of this arose because I had opinions and thoughts to share but no one to share them with, and my brain was getting tired of that. I was talking to myself all the time. Constantly looking down mouthing words.

On Wednesday or Thursday was when the two minds appeared. Maybe before that, actually. One was me, chiding myself, the other was me, being a loser. It was terrible. I kept telling myself to stop stop, stop talking. I wouldn’t. I did the stupidest things. I once put down my backpack and I couldn’t find it again, and then I put away my chargers and couldn’t find them again, and then put away, etc etc and couldn’t find it again—after just 20 seconds. Then, I would find it right where I left it and get so mad. How could I have not seen that? What the hell are you doing? Why are you wasting so much time? Why did you put it there anyway, that’s a stupid place to put it. What the fuck! You are so stupid and annoying. Shut up. You have no friends.

I couldn’t concentrate in class because my two sides were arguing. The only time it slowed was when I was at work and when I was working on my art project. There was one other time though as well. I was at my volunteer job at the library and I was presenting a program. I put so much of my effort into it and so much attention toward the students. It was a major success. I knew something was wrong with me, I could feel it. I missed my therapy session on Thursday because I was doing work, so there was no way to stop it.

But, on Monday after the program, the worst lapse happened. On the drive back, I felt disoriented, and when I got out, I went to pick up my bike, which was parked outside the 24 hour library from the day before. I struggled to open the D lock for a moment—it was dark and raining. I called myself stupid. I got it open, and thought, yes, finally, you idiot. And then, I walked away. I forgot what was happening. I went to my apartment and realized it later—where was my bike? I had unlocked it and then walked away. It was unlocked. It was dark and raining outside and past 1:30 am. I knew my bike probably wouldn’t come back. I was terrified and scared at what I had done. How was this possible? How could I have forgotten this? Something was really, really wrong. I would tell my parents tomorrow, I really would. At night I did not sleep a wink. It was true insomnia. I closed my eyes and rested but never slept. I felt afraid and couldn’t shut down the thoughts. I was being tortured. I worked all night to calm myself. I got up for work in the early morning.

In the morning I was still trying to calm the thoughts. I went to clock in but I forgot how to do it. Yes, I’ve been doing this job since August and I actually forgot how to clock in. I just didn’t know. I thought they had changed something. It took me far too long to figure out how to do it. I had forgotten something else. It was odd. 

I threw myself into the job that day. My managers were lazier than usual and the lead was just standing there. I felt like I was doing a lot of the work. But it went fine. I did a good job, I really did. When the shift was over at 10:30 though, I didn’t want to leave because there were unfinished things. I stayed until 11, I said I would. 

I made it to 10:50. And then I started to cry. And hyperventilate. In front of everybody.

I lost my mind.


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