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mercredi 16 avril 2014

Blinking in the sunlight

Wow, it's been so long since I last wrote here...

I ended up having 12 electroshock therapy sessions, and Dr H and Y both seem to think they did me some good, though I just remember it as being a wretched experience I wouldn't wish on anyone. It also seriously, seriously screwed up my memory: I've just read the last few blog posts and I don't recognize any of it, I don't remember writing it, I don't remember the Valium or being in the "open" part before being transferred to the "locked" part. Hell, I didn't even remember that I had a blog until a couple of days ago...

And so much has happened, so much I don't remember.

I'm still in the hospital, still in the locked part. I do get permission to spend the afternoon and early evening at home, allowing me to a) not come back here till about 9 pm and b) conveniently "forget" to take my 6 pm medication (the punch-you-in-the-head ones, Mianserine and the very scary Abilify), meaning I haven't taken it at all in a couple of weeks at least. I suspect this pathetic act of rebellion is going to have the predictable unfortunate consequences, but I truly hate taking medication, so I've decided to just go cold turkey.

Y is still living in my flat, and we are now back to being more than just friends, though unfortunately I have no recollection whatsoever of how that happened. I'm just glad it has. I know, deep down, that this relationship is doomed - he's only 30, he's going to want to start a family and I just don't know if that's something I want to go through again (even assuming that it's still a biological possibility) - but for now, he is the light in my life, he makes me feel special, safe, loved, and boy do I need that...

On 28 February, we decided that Tom's not eating merited a trip to the vet's. She decided she needed to keep an eye on him for a few days. We visited him the next day (Saturday) and he seemed a little subdued, but otherwise OK. On the Monday, as I came back to reality after my latest electroshock session, I got a phone call from the vet to say that Tom, my sweet, beloved Tom, had passed away. Even now, more than 6 weeks later, I still feel the pain. Yesterday would have been his 17th birthday, and I miss him more than any words I write could ever express.

We did get another cat, a 6-month-old black kitten we named Zorro. He's very cute, very, very cute but oh, so scared of everything. I've talked about him to Dr H, who said he can't understand, given how hard I find this thing called living, why on earth I would take on a psychologically damaged cat. To which I could do nothing but say that I obviously didn't know how damaged he was when we took him on...

The world still seems a pretty dark and unwelcoming place - I can feel myself falling apart whenever I'm alone. The eyes on the rooftop outside my bedroom window at home make it difficult for me to sleep there because I can feel them watching me. Y tries to make light of it, tries to convince me that they're not real, but even though I know that, I can't help it, I can feel them, staring, watching.

We've been trying to tidy the flat, with limited success. It makes me feel a certain amount of relief that this tidying process has finally started, and I like seeing the (tiny) bits of progress made. But the enormity of the task still overwhelms me.

That said, most things overwhelm me. I don't know if it's because I haven't been taking my medication, or if it started before that (I think it did, but it's hard to tell, even harder to remember when your memory seems to be made of cream cheese), but the bad thoughts are back, the pill hoarding is back, the erratic sleeping and eating is back. Dr H is talking about increasing my medication (rather a joke, given that I don't take most of it, just 3 anxiolytics I can't avoid and a sleeping pill that doesn't work) because he sees me as fragile. And I feel fragile. The nervous mannerisms are back, I can't stop them, can't prevent them. I cry at the drop of a hat, I'm in pain again, desperate to be let out of here, aware that Dr H says that that's what he's working towards but that he's putting it off again for now because of this damn fragility he detects.

I'm sorry, I know I'm jumping from one subject to another, that this post isn't even "poorly constructed", it's not constructed at all, it's more like a stream of consciousness.

I want to get out of here, I want to be home with Y, I want the girls - and particularly C - to start being nice to him, to accept that for now he's an important part of my life and that he alone makes me feel something approaching happy. I want the medication to just go away (not my hoard, I'm guarding that preciously, just in case), I want Zorro to let me touch him, stroke him, hold him. So many wants.

I will try and write here more often, now that I've remembered I have a blog (of sorts). But 2014 is now 3 and a half months old and there's still no real improvement. The psychologist I also have to see told me today I'm punishing myself, but I don't understand what she means. She did ask me if I'd ever been happy and you know what? I couldn't pinpoint a single part of my life about which I could say, honestly, "oh yeah, I was really happy then". My life continues to be a waste of everyone's time, especially my own. Which is why I don't intend for it to continue much longer.

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