Well I really really wanted to keep my mental health out of this blog, but since the last post slipped through, and in order for me to continue on with finishing my star quilt I need to dump the baggage to get somewhere. I spent a good chunk of the last month in the psych ward, and since I tag my pictures with my name I guess who cares if it’s in this one. I write and I write, and then apparently I write some more when I get sick, this is one of the pages I took home. The hospital has most of the 100+ pages I wrote over two to three weeks, I feel sorry for my doctor who has to read this stuff. I told them to forever banish the pages to the hospital’s basement, although I kind of want to be a guinea pig whenever my time is up. This was a letter to someone else I won’t mention who let’s just say I will in all likelihood never meet them. Maybe someone could be helped by my story? I apologize to followers of my art, just let this one go through unnoticed so I can move on to making more art. I may post this to my other blog as well. Ok so the story starts in Spring of 2006. I am in a nice art school, I graduated with more than a 4.0 grade point average in high school, and this spring things are not quite right. So how long can you go completely crazy in college before someone notices, hey something’s not quite right? Apparently in my case, an entire week of haywire wires in my brain. So Monday, skip class, Tuesday, skip class, wander around town and hope I don’t get lost on one of the days, Wednesday go to class, I liked that class, get cussed out by professor apologize and go on my merry way Katie have a sense of humor will you, Thursday skip class do who knows what I don’t remember, Friday the hammer falls. That morning wander by the windows of the class I was supposed to be in and wonder if they are all staring at me, I was far enough away that they probably weren’t but I still to this day wonder if they seen me outside. Go back to the dorm, have some stranger let me in because I left my id in my room I think, this whole story might be out of order. Look at poster, hey this poster says call home, so I call my dad and he says he’s coming to pick me up. I’m in big trouble I tell him. I know things I tell him. I go eat count Chocula in the cafeteria, this Dracula cereal is up to no good I can’t eat it. The pop station is broken, I’m getting water instead of apple juice, I’m turning water to wine! Who cares if wine is made out of grapes, if the deer get drunk off it so can I! Yes things were very bad, I do have a sense of humor now, but back then it wasn’t funny. I go to the dorm, get in my room, a person from the school is waiting for me they ask what is going on. I tell them I can’t tell you I’m not allowed, I look out the window, my dad is out there in his truck, I take my page of secret stuff and run past the lady and all the way out to my dad and tell him to go! I have secret info they’re after me, take me to my old school! My dad is completely freaked out and confused but does take me to the school. I visit and they send me to the hospital in a cop car and put an armed guard outside my door. Apparently so I don’t run away again, I am not dangerous but I don’t know what they were thinking. Apparently they didn’t know what I was thinking either. I go to hospital, I try to go back to school, I go back to worse hospital in Cleveland I will never ever go back to. I have a bad dystonic reaction to Geodon upon being released, and am walking down the street when suddenly I can’t walk. I am skipping a rude nurse because it is too unhappy for my blog. So I can’t walk but barely, I try to give all the stuff away that I am carrying, which I didn’t care I want to get rid of it so I trash my stuff and call out to a security guard. I go to school, unhappy lady gives me a t-shirt to make my muscles work again, some sympathetic guy drives me back to hospital. The next time I go home they overdose me on something, I wake up at home unknown amount of time later. We were going to clean out my dorm but I wouldn’t stop complaining, I don’t remember this. Geodon wasn’t working for me, I get sent to evil psychiatrist that is far away. She gives me Zyprexa and makes me stop seeing a therapist I like to see her therapist and then charges two copays for one visit. My face doesn’t like Zyprexa, the doctor says with a horrified look on her face, Why does your face look like it has boils on it? I say I don’t know is it the meds? She says I don’t know, but keep taking it, I say goodbye forever to her. I stay somewhat saneish for a year. Go back to hospital in 2007. Keep that doctor who knows what he is doing. Still have that doctor. Start Abilify, it works music is now music again and not filtered chatter. It has a few downsides, 1 in 250 million sounds like pretty good odds to win the lottery but I don’t overdo it. I have a new hobby every few weeks. That is yet to be seen on these new meds. Skip ahead to October 2013. My friend is getting married, I have ulcerative colitis, and am trying to survive the wedding. One bridesmaid is sick and decides to share the wealth. So I go home, I’m sick, I’m feeling down, and what in my life can I change at this very moment? I look at my pills, I feel my sickness, and think I bet I won’t notice any withdrawals while I’m already sick. And then the downward spiral. I did good for a week, worked faster at work, then I slept for a week. Then I noticed my face had an expression stuck on it, I never did figure that out but it did go away once started on these new pills. Ok skip to doctor appointment, stuttered through it but wasn’t terrible, doc warns of hospital visit but my dad sticks up for me, he says we’ll wait and see. Two days later…..My friend calls, Katie you’re going to the hospital or I’m coming over there, or I’m calling the police. Well thanks I guess those are my options? My parents take me to hospital. I get put on more pills and over two different stays here I am. I think this combo is working better for me than the Abilify ever was, and it is much cheaper with all these than that one drug I’m thinking. Perphenazine is my main pill now, but they found some thyroid issues? I’m on a thyroid pill and my stomach feels bottomless. 30 mg of Abilify was horrible it literally hurt to sit still, I was fine at 15 mg for the longest time, I told the doctor none of that again. So maybe that’s why he went with an older drug. I don’t know if I want to get into all my delusions, maybe another time? It worked out interesting, I don’t really admit to hallucinations much but that’s probably what my other problems are, it’s more filtered reality than projected reality but then things get weird because, not sure how to explain. I usually think as though I am talking to someone but I don’t consider that voices, I get “intrusive thoughts” at times, which make me cringe at times and I consider that to be worse than the conversations. I apologize for everything, but now I’m getting into the delusions, they seem real and I look back and it’s like a dream. I even suggested having some kind of sleep problem to the doctor in a letter, but he says paranoid schizophrenia on the release papers. The delusions revolve around science and religion, and the weird part is, the war was settled in my brain while in the hospital, pills or otherwise. But I’m having a hard time recalling it. I guess I had some bizarre atom mix up going on in my brain and convinced myself that one part of my soul is in heaven, they are evil because someone played musical chairs with my brain. Myself in hell is perfectly sane, and I have the brain of myself as it should have been in hell which causes some conflict here and allows me to see the order in the world. That was the thought at least, and then a thought of three choices upon death, go to the light, go to the dark portal no one notices until they pass through, or stay here as a ghost. And the weird thing is the whole thing made me feel better about life. And I now want to go to hell if the delusions are right it’s a pretty swell place, more confusion than violence. There was also a ton of science, but I don’t know I want to get into it someone might beat me over the head with it. I gave all the recent pictures away, I can’t have a solid job with my art, once money becomes involved it ceases to be fun and then I quit doing it because then it is work. I feel I am disappointing people in that way.