Not Thinking Straight

I was fairly unwell when I wrote the following:

In the aftertaste of hypomania (mild mania), I realise I am all trouble and bad buys. It is a chronic contexture – the long-lasting setting feel. It’s a symphony in the universe. It's titalic poetry. It's born living in a tree house. It is a broken limb not resting. It is the rest of mankind and not me. My mother asks me what does ‘titalic’ mean. It is italic and capital. It is Berlin, Madrid and Oslo. Also, money makes the world go round as coins are circular.


He will come again to judge the quick and the dead. Dear God, do what you have to do, but do it quickly. Be quick or you’ll be stuck fast. Fast, simply to magnify the Lord almighty God. We laud and honour Him. It is a hymn to Him who makes and sustains. There is a stain on the wall. All things come from you, and of your own do we give you. That is why there are yew trees in churchyards. And here, there are too many cushions – for health and for decency.

Depression

Although not depressed right now, this is how it affects me:
Once more, depression has settled on me. Depression is rotten. It is daylight outside but I cannot see any way forward. There is pain where my heart is – a great weight in the chest: it is a collapse of heart. I spend a lot of time sleeping to forget the day. The terrible sadness overwhelms. I sit and sob.

I can’t concentrate. I can’t think of anything other than death, dying, the ending of things. I move as if underwater. My heart is turned to lead. I find it hard to care about anything.

Often there is a rush of inexplicable panic which clutches me about the throat. An awful sense of dread accompanies me that I can neither shift nor explain. Someone’s crying, Lord. The tears drop down.

Pacifism

I am prone to writing and speaking based on sounds alone and the meanings are often mostly irrelevant as can be seen here:


It is said that it is harder for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of Heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. I saw a camel race once. Camels have long eyelashes. Sometimes, somewhere, it is a hundred lashes if you look at someone lustfully. With an eye to murder, it is more. Let that be a lesson to you: be careful what you do. I am a pacifist. I have never raised a fist to anyone. I was raised that way.

I have come apart from my body, often I see myself in detachment. I felt at times I have a difficult halo around the circumference of my head. It puts pressure on me in a tight band. I am so scared because my thoughts have bad side effects. They are so loud as to shift world continents with the sound waves. I bought a metronome last time I was manic and I find it ticking at largo tempo soothes me. I listen to it a lot. Still, silence is golden. Morning has broken.

Many thanks to Illusivejoy who has sent me my first blogging award!

Here are some blogs I think are splendid and are worth passing this award on to:

The Wife of a Schizophrenic

Perfect Defect

Coloured Mind

Eccedentesiat

Rapidcycling

Of course there are so many others but I don't want to go overboard. ;)

Not So Good

I was set to start Lithium yesterday on top of the Lamotrigine I am already on. I have had to delay this for the time being as I have a bad cold.

This was a diary entry some time ago:

Not so good. I am not so good. My mind has a happening-influence over history’s events. I am near panic-stricken and heart-dartzing for I start at every noise and news. I am neither old nor new in the scheme of things. Everything happens – all due to my thoughts. There are forethoughts and afthoughts and my dreams have shaken the world and I am so frightened. Perfection is a reflection in God’s eye. All the while, I sit in this corner, covering my head with my hands. My mother says I have done nothing wrong. What have I done, dear God, what have I done? I pray for forgiveness for giving is receiving. Just sometimes I near choke myself.

Aside from everything, there is a slip in my thoughts. They don’t grip as well as they used to. The forces are reversed. My mind has just gone.

Right now, I wish to be left in the snowstorm of an off-air television station and be allowed to die.