I forget sometimes that I have been off anti-depressants for three years and the fact that I have cut my anti-pychotic Respirdol in half for three months. I forget about the cycle of withdrawal usually happens every three months or so and I feel like the bottom half of my brain has been blown out. I am struggling with connecting, to anything. I feel like there static between me and every one, like looking through a fuzzy station and I can only grab bits and pieces. This same thing is happening in my brain. Like the neurons are struggling to fire and when they do, they hit empty space. Then out of the blue the lightning bolts in my head will connect and there is a rapid firing cycle at finding the mark. And then as quickly as it started it begins to fade again and the target stands waiting through all of the smoke and haze, while everything in my head becomes limp, never knowing when contact will be made again. And I am just trying to get the round peg in the round hole like again and again and again.
I have been in the process of relearning everything I know. All the things that used to make me who I was. I am rebuilding and recreating myself, literally. I forget that sometimes. In fact, most of the time because I can't figure out what the heck is wrong with me. And then I panic, because the disconnecting static almost stings my brain and I can't think because my firing missile won't work in my brain and I panic more because I can't remember what is going on and why I feel this way and why I can't just do something and change it. And I had one of those epsiodes tonight and it finally dawned on me, I'm ready to hit the three month mark of cutting my meds down. The withdrawal. Functioning without. And doing so among all the static that sizzles through my head. And it is a son of a bitch. And it is scarier than a mother fucker, but when it all comes together for that moment in time, it is the glorious feeling in the world and I'd just about do anything for it not to end. And when it does, the first thing I think of is, getting all the feeling back and going on meds. Not always consciously, but it is there. And I'd give anything at that moment to bring it all back together, to feel alive again instead of a walking corpse. Then there are those partial times, when some of the picture is coming in and out, those are the worse. Just make up your mind!! Be there or don't. These half ass firing in my head are the most frustrating, like walking through a tunnel of reality or death. It is like something out of the "Twilight Zone." And I just want to scream! And I want to run! Anything to rev up the energy so that the firing will strike. This is usually my most active part of the day. I need to do something physical, but because of my weariness, it is difficult and trying, but I can't lay down. RESET! RESET!! Come on get those tracking missile out---I need some connection. Anything! CONTACT! CONTACT!! And here we go again as the neurons start missing again and everything comes back down and I am lost again.
So much work to do, one step at a time. Some days are better than others. Mostly it helps when my husband is home because I can stay connected with him and it helps me stay in focus and I'm just usually happier when he's around. The rest of the time it is all a hit or miss. Or something in between. And I still forget that.