These are my thoughts. They are not meant to make sense. They are my echo into the woods. I am the tree that falls, and it is here that I make a sound.
Most recent babblings

The history of babble of the modern psychotic blonde

Warps to others, warped and otherwise
Sanity Optional
Sunday, December 04, 2005

Moving Forward

Well, I've taken the past week and done a lot of reflection.

Things I've come across:

1) I realised that from Friday last week to mid Sunday I missed all my medication. That's a significant loss of drugs for me. It has affected my judgment big time for then, and the remainder of the week.

2) My pdoc screwed up. Again. I realised last night that my most recent prescription was filled differently. Some might remember that he recently increased my Seroquel, an antipsychotic. It helps keep my thoughts straight, and lowers the incidence of delusion and paranoia. He had increased it in two steps (it's called titrating the dosage) from 400 mg to 500 mg to 600 mg per day. Well, he filled my prescription in the intermediate dose, at 500 mg per day. That meant that the pills were filled in 100 mg. I've been used to taking the Seroquel in doses of 1 pill in the AM and two at night (if filled in 200 mg tablets, this works out to 600 mg per day). I noticed last night that the package read 1 and 4 pills, am and pm. Then I realised that I've been taking 1/2 the TRUE dosage all week (I've been taking 1 pill in the AM and 2 in the PM but since they're only 100 mg each, I've been shortchanging myself).

This screws me up even further.

3)I'm not sure if some of you are aware, but there are neat little hidden features on a lot of blogs, mine included, that let me see who is reading it. I have seen traffic coming in from Philippines, New Zealand, and here locally. It's been interesting to see who's reading.

4) I've made a decision:

I'm moving my thoughts and vents to another blog. I will keep this one up and running for some time, but won't add to it, to allow people to read this post and know where I've gone. I just feel that I need a new place, and a fresh start. I've been convinced that I need this outlet, and that it seems to help others as well.

Email me if you want the URL. I will provide it.

Take care all.
Monday, November 28, 2005

Short one

I want to close my blog.

Rob is making it very clear to me that he wants me to keep it going. He said that he knows what it would do to me to lose this outlet, even though I can't rely on it the way I thought I could.

So.

I have choices to make.

If I'm not here for a while, don't worry. If the blog closes, please don't worry. It just may morph into a different one, using a different name, and a different nick.

I don't know what I'm going to do. All I know is that I'm incredibly sad, scared and feel paralysed by fear and paranoia.

I just have to tell myself this too shall pass.
Sunday, November 27, 2005

A fool

What a fool.

I've hurt my two sisters.

I've said awful things and I can't unsay them.

Apparently I've been saying awful things for years, but didn't know it.

They're never going to believe me. Never going to trust me.

And they both now think that my behaviour is imitated by Rob. And maybe by my son. But it's not.

I'm the one who says idiotic things. Not them.

We never said a word before you opened the door. You won't believe me but it's true.

I'm so lost. So very lost.

River

I've deleted my previous post.

There are people in life who deserve to get trouble. There are people who deserve attitude and discomfort, because they carry themselves through life negatively impacting everyone around them.

Then there are others. Others who do nothing but try their best to treat others with decency and respect. Who reach a hand out to help, to brush hair back from a sweaty brow, who steady a faltering step, who give of themselves and ask little in return.

My sister is one of those.

And I've deeply hurt her.

All she wants is friendship. I don't have many friends, actually I don't know if I have any friends, and it's because I don't know how - or when I do I'm too comfortable in my self-isolation - to be a good friend. She says she loves me and I'm not sure why. I've never given her much in the way of the support that she's given me. I sit in my little house, holding myself apart from others and thinking that's okay. I don't know how to be real with people: those of you out there with BP - we've all talked about this before, how being with others you select a mask and put it on, appropriately playing the part that matches the scenery, not because you are insincere but because you can't let the world see the real you.

Because you don't know who the real you is. The quicksand on which we live leaves us dancing, knees high, step to step, to keep from sinking and drowning, breathing in raspy lungs of abrasive rock.

My mom's always told me that I've too sharp a tongue and that one of these days it's going to get me into trouble. Mother's always right, isn't she?

I hope, my sister L, that I can once in a while be kind enough to you to reflect even a fraction of what you've done for me in my life. It'll never be enough to unring the bell, and it's never going to be close to the kindness you deserve.

And don't worry. Rob's home soon. I'll be fine.

Copyright © 2005 Blondzila (because no one else would own this).

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