Archive for the ‘Nightmares & Daydreams’ Category

Quality vs. Intensity   Leave a comment

I have not written here in a long time. Quality thoughts have been lacking. Intense emotion has not. Manic episodes, depressive states, homicidal reactions, suicidal ideation, mental clutter; I’ve been a mess. But I miss you, my quiet little blog. And I want to come home.

I’ll be back as soon as I can.

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Covenant   Leave a comment

Not everything that breaks the skin
Is an affront to my senses
Some things are just more worth waiting for
While others are better left alone

From the jump
I lost my footing
And found myself spinning
Out of control and going under
There is always a rhythm
That escapes my knowing
And I flail as I fail

But I get up
And I try, try again

You’re like my “watched pot”
That I can’t seem to ever catch boiling
I feel like no matter how I trick time
It’s me that gets covered in
Lost anthems of relationships
And wasted moments of inner conflicts

Night terrors and static and the reincarnation of everything
I thought I laid to rest
Here again
Pressing me up hard against the glass
To be examined by the doctors of my failures
And the professors of my testaments
Battle weary Argonauts
And the wreckage left of sunken ships

Everything repeats
Only now I’m tired
And I’m less inclined to seek the Holy Grail
Now seeking out a new covenant

This is my gospel
According to me

Jen

Karen’s Got Pneumonia And I’ve Got the Blues   1 comment

 

I keep making things up.  I suppose I could just settle for some definition of what I’m doing that leaves me sounding creative and daring, but really I think that I’m just bored and a slight touch demented.  I come up with some other person I’d rather be; a name, a personality, a complete background and family tree and just live out a few days or even a whole lifetime as this new creation.  If I could be organized enough, motivated enough to write it all out and do something with it then I could say that I was an artist of some great means, but really it’s all just for my own entertainment.  It keeps me from hurting myself and lashing out at others and I know that there is some great benefit there.  I mean, any day that I wake up and know for a fact that there are no victims from the day before I can open my eyes and feel victorious.  But I am starting to worry more and more about all of this wasted time.  And I don’t just mean wasted as in “where is my life going” or “what am I amounting to with me doing nothing but daydreaming?”  I am referring to the actual loss of time that has been occurring.  I mentioned it to the psychiatrist and he made notes about it in my file.  It concerned him enough to discuss it with me again the following visit but of course I am now done with my time at Kennedy so all of the progress I have made with him is now dust in the wind which is always the case.  I never seem to get anywhere with anyone in therapy.  Just as we start down an interesting road I stop seeing that particular person and never because it is what I want.  This time it is because my 12 weeks of Intensive Outpatient is completed.  I have to start going to Catholic Charities now.  I don’t much like the idea of it, but what can I do?  With the limit Medicaid that I receive currently it was that or Drenk and Drenk had a 3 month waiting list.  I am a bit mistrusting and paranoid actually and not sure I believe Drenk.  I preferred going back to them for my individual therapy and medication monitoring, but I truthfully believe that my old therapist is still there.  She was supposed to be leaving their employment in late August, but when I called her extension it was still set up with her information.  I don’t think she wants to continue with me and I don’t think they feel I am stable enough to walk into that building, see her in person and not freak out and accept another therapist.  I admit, I got way too attached to her and I understand their concerns.  But truthfully, for as much hassle as going to a new place will cause me I would much rather go back to Drenk and see another therapist and just leave things be.  But they don’t know this and are probably just being evasive to keep things calm over there.  So they are saying they can’t take me back and now Catholic Charities is my only option.  From how it’s been explained to me, I will probably do a weekly therapy, see a nurse practitioner for medication and maybe have to attend a group.  I’m not sure how often the group will be, maybe weekly or bi-weekly.  I hope not much more than that.  They are located about 10 minutes further than Drenk and my old car has had enough of all these trips.  But regardless, it will be closer than Kennedy which was roughly 45 minutes and 28 miles away for me.  I must admit, the groups that I attended at Kennedy did help me.  They let me feel comfortable joining in discussions and being a part of the entire process of sharing and opening up.  So I am must more inclined now, I think to take part in my own therapy, both group and individual.  I don’t think therapy is something you are just born understanding out to utilize.  And that’s a shame because when you really need help you go for so long and it’s wasted just having you go and sit there and be afraid and closed off.  But now I know I will walk into any therapist office or any group setting and barring any bizarre scene I will do my part to get the most out of the help offered.  It makes me really full of hope and possibility.  I also know now that even though a lot of why I start going to therapy is because of anger and such what I really need help with is my PTSD.  My anxiety and fear is what leads me to my anger, but if you need to know where it all begins and what really stops me in my tracks from leading a healthy, happy life it’s the overwhelming fear and nervousness that I live with on a daily basis.  Out of the 24 hours of each day, second by second, I am spending so many of my hours consumed with doubt, paranoia, dread and an agony of disappointing people and being alarmed by the simplest of things.  I am at a constant level of stress and anxiety that I have just grown to expect it, but it corrupts everything about me, about my life and about my reactions.  And now I’m at a point where I am so tired and overwhelmed that my ability to manage it and hide it has fallen apart and what the world is seeing is anger and this violent, agitated, near demonic side of me that was always just below the surface and aimed at myself but now, more often than not, pouring over the brim and effecting them.  I don’t know this wasn’t a story or typical blog post.  My girlfriend is in the hospital with pneumonia and my head is frazzled because I’m alone and feeling too much freedom and way too emotional.  I know I haven’t posted in a while and I just wanted to say something and this is what came bumbling, stumbling out of my head.  I feel like there is a chance I could accidentally hurt myself while she’s gone.  That is such a strange thing to say, to admit to.  She drives me nuts and I spend a lot of time taking care of her when she’s home, but she still manages to keep me safe.  With her in the hospital I am alone and unattended and I feel like I want to do something risky.  Like I could cut myself or take a lot of pills just to do something dangerous.  I don’t know why I have these urges.  I just do.  When my old girlfriend would spend time in the hospital she always knew that as soon as I made sure she was ok I would go out and spend all of our money on drugs and just get totally fucked up.  It was like our routine.  I don’t do that anymore.  But in the absence of that plan I still want to do something risky.  I just am older now and tired and not feeling well.  But those demons still want to play.  They are still digging their claws into my brain and taunting me.  Who knows how I will shut them up?  I’ll have to figure something out.  I think I have 3 more days till she comes home.  And it is officially the first day of FALL which thrills me to no end.  Maybe when I wake up I’ll go get some hot coffee and spend the day out and about.  Anything to keep me from sitting in this house alone with sharp objects and pill bottles that sounds like a good idea doesn’t it?

Fuck it.

Wish me luck and shit.

Jen

Thoughtscape   Leave a comment

I’m not aiming to be dramatic and I guess that’s what keeps me going forward at any pace.  Even this slow, subtle crawl that has so many straining to make out if I am in fact moving at all.  I know that I’m not measuring up to many standards, but there are voices that sing in the darkness urging me to just keep my shuffle, to just keep my pace and so I do.  I feel the floor slipping away, the actual Earth crumble from beneath me and I want to look back to see if I have what I’ve already claimed still safely tucked in my corner, but I know that if I do and I don’t see it there I will panic.  And panic, that sheer terror that has come for me before leaves me so much worse off that it’s better, even I know it’s better, to just keep my feet inching one ahead of the other.  The door opens every 15 minutes; morning, noon and night.  No matter what I’m doing they come to check on me like I might be up to something worse off than counting the seconds between the last time they checked.  I wanted a few breaths of privacy just to calm my head, but I’m not afforded such luxury.  In that time, that brief time I might patch together some imaginary materials and hang myself from some created plain and do away with the vast playground of nightmares and thoughtscapes.  For a spell, I take to calculating just how long it might take to do away with myself from the moment they shut the door so that I will be long gone before they open it up again so that I can be freshly set in a relaxing new world by the time the light hits my body and their eyes jump from their median income skulls so that I can just feel like a winner just one last time.  And I fixate on this for about 14 minutes too long before the door opens and I hear a thick Jamaican accent say, “Ok, Jennifer.”  And just like that it’s back to me smiling in the darkness as if the only thing that has ever mattered to me my entire life was being right where she left me because all that has ever mattered to me is being right where someone has left me so that I could hopefully be found later on when they come back to look for me.  They come back to look, that’s what that proves.  And in that I feel some small comfort because I may be crazy, but above all else, I’m really just afraid of my own shadow and all of the sinister plans she comes up with when left alone to contemplate ways to do away with us both.

Jen Czahur

Time   Leave a comment

 

It appears

That I only know

The ways

Of

Shame or blame

And that for me to be

Greater than the sum

Of my misgivings

I need to learn something

New

Of how life can move forward

I am not sure

There is a way for me

Other than this

I feel trapped

And lost

And alone

I am trying

But I am failing

I am hoping

But I gave up on praying

And now all that I know

For sure

Is that time is both

My greatest enemy

And the only friend

That has the trusted ability

Of being there

In the end

jc

Mentally Ill   Leave a comment

 

I was walking down the footpath like I owned the daylight.  My new shoes pressing firm into the subtle texture of the freshly turned soil that was barely dry in the blushing light of dawn; morning dew clinging to each and every item left out from the night before as if a badge of precious victory.  I was beaming, literally beaming, my face flashing a brilliance which hadn’t shown from any part of me in what felt like many millennia. I was finally confident in my stride.  I had found some purpose and I was dedicated to my footsteps for the very first time.  My stumbling was behind me, teetering and fumbling no longer my only function.  I was coming into my own and I was sure that there was never going to be any going back.  This was my rite of passage leading me straight for the grand entrance into the waking world…………………………..

Only I was dreaming.  And I can’t seem to ever push it aside.  I wish I didn’t open up, I wish I had just kept certain things to myself because to be honest I will miss her.  I know being honest is the best thing, I know that.  I’m not a fool.  But when everyone leaves, you don’t think about the overall right and wrong of a situation.  You just think about how everyone always has a reason to push you away.  What I’m talking about is my therapist.  She can’t help me.  She thinks I need more than she can provide and she’s right.  Only I want her to help me.  And that’s a big part of me actually benefiting from all of this shit.  So now I’m going to have to leave her and go back into an outpatient program or into some hospital.  I’m really not ok with any of it, but I don’t get much say.  So I talk to the actual doctor tomorrow to figure out my fate.  For the first time in a long time, I feel more than just “bipolar”.  I feel the full weight of “mentally ill”.  And I’m just not feeling like finding a way though it this time.

I haven’t slept in 3 nights now, so I’m loopy as well.  I was having nightmares.  Now, I’m growing more and more manic.

I’m growing tired of being me again.  Only this time, I’m too tired to want to be anyone else either.

Jen Czahur

tell me it’s all a bad dream   Leave a comment

I had a rough night last night and I’m kind of afraid to fall asleep tonight because of it.  My girlfriend had to wake me up two times from horrible nightmares.  I only remember the last time.  The dream was torture.  Literal torture.  I can’t really describe it because I don’t want to dwell on it.  Just thinking about it brings me to a dark place.  But it was the most vivid and unbearable dream I have ever experienced.

I haven’t been able to shake the sick of it all day.  It’s hanging on me like a wet, wool overcoat.  It’s heavy and there is a sad smell of grief draped over my shoulders.  I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I only know how to hide and now I know right where to find me.

I am my own worst enemy.

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