Core Dump

This is a transcription from a handwritten journal. I have since entered my thoughts and experiences in this blog.

I am unloading various comments for which there is no order. Just comments in whatever chronological order they were originally logged in.

I plan to record in this journal recollections and experiences on a day to day basis (with obvious flashbacks of things past). I’m currently (2019) being treated with an antidepressant (Zoloft) two mood stabilizers (Lamictal and Depakote) and Risperdal, an antipsychotic.

I am bothered by frequent hallucinations, delusions (mostly paranoid) and various negative symptoms, such as avolition and poor hygiene.

I have to date encountered bouts of suicidal depression, to the extent that I have seriously attempted suicide, with full intent of succeeding, on three occasions. The third such attempt got Me committed on a 72-hour hold. Nothing more, since I was able to convince the resident psychiatrist that it was only an attempt to get attention (which it was not). To this day I carry the scars on my wrists where as an afterthought I added the gouges for emphasis after overdosing lethal amounts of vodka and lorazepam. Stomach pumping was successful, obviously.

It was at this time that my psychosis really took off. I had several bizarre hallucinations, full-screen technicolor movies that lasted between 30 and 90 seconds each. You might as a result consider me a possible schizoaffective patient.

On January 29, 2020, I had episodes of significant paranoia and visual disturbances. This was accompanied by once again a sense of suicidal depression. Furniture moved, lights flashed and the ceiling bent. I sensed a profound fear that specific people were “out to get me,” and that they could read my thoughts.

I began having difficulty sorting out true memories from Imagined thoughts, or recollections of things that never actually took place. The resulting conflict never gets fully resolved, but I typically dismiss such sensations and unsolvable. I figure the real memories will repeat themselves.

Thanks to the meds, I feel I can walk through the role of overall sanity. But inside I’m going nuts! At one point I felt the therapist was clandestinely recording my words, intending to use them against me. The visual disturbances continue.

Fast forward to January 29 and 30, 2020. I experienced another psychotic break, this one confirmed by dr. Jen Kin, my psychiatrist. My dosage of Risperdal was increased, and Seroquel was added to my antipsychotic cocktail. The results seem to be much better.

February 17, 2020. Feeling generally better. Perplexed by indignation of others, though. I tried to relate my experiences to Angelina but she doesn’t understand. I’m tired of being looked down upon. Nobody understands the experience of my psychotic breaks. They don’t respond normally. I need to find someone in whom I can confide. This life is solitary and sad. The more acquainted with my symptoms I become, the more obvious it seems that I’m a schizophrenic.

February 23, 2020. Paranoia is still a major factor In my mental life. Several nights ago I had a delusion in which I had lost my left arm. As opposed to a hypnogogic/hypnopompic experience, the episode had the realism to be extremely haunting and frightening at the same time. The arm was reattached at the end of the episode. The next day I “witnessed” George Foreman hammering a trapped baby in the head until it stopped crying and died.

February 23, 2020. I’m recalling an event a few years ago when I was awake at night, looking out my window at the nighttime street. As I watched, a car drove by with a bunch of gang members. The man riding “shotgun” stared at me, his face glowing in the dark. He smiled as if to challenge me. As his glowing face moved past me, the car slowly moved down the street. I stared for two hours, it seemed, waiting in apprehension for their return, but nothing further happened.

March 4, 2020. Interesting experience preparing to take evening pills. Accidentally flipped contents of the pill dispenser, and was incapable of salvaging all but four pills. The balance of the meds was gone, spilled in every which direction. I was ready to place the dispenser in its place when I discovered that the “flipped” pills had never been spilled in the first place. This despite a plainly visible prior confirmation that the dispenser was empty.

February 19, 2021. More frequent episodes of disturbing visions. On January 25, as I drove into a parking lot I went to receive the parking ticket and was greeted by a male voice which stated “welcome. You have arrived.” That greeting was followed by a female voice that stated “don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know anything!” In response I just laughed.

On January 27, my room shook like an earthquake, with bending walls and what seemed to be a large animal under my bed.

On January 22 my face (illegible) were (illegible) blood ran down my mouth and chin. When I cleaned up, the entire mess was gone.

February 19, 2021. Today spilled a hot liquid on myself and the kitchen counter. Angelina got on my case, and I answered “I’ll just kill myself.” It was not a half-hearted statement. It was frighteningly serious at the time.

February 26, 2021. Turned TV off to silence in preparation for Doctor’s meeting. Minutes later TV began making conversation. After thirty seconds conversation stopped.

February 29, 2021. Yesterday Angelina was on my case about something to do with cleaning my room. She said “You need to put…” I cut her off and finished “put a bullet in my brain.” Though it came out as a joke, it really wasn’t.

March 9, 2021. Heard plaintive baby crying outside my window. 7:00 AM. Not a cat. 3:00 PM twangy off-speed music through digital headphones. “78” style.

March 12, 2021. 1PM creeping sounds like rats crawling around. Disturbing. No apparent cause. 

March 19, 2021. Last night was overwhelmed by suicidally serious anxiety, fear and depression, as my life is too full of worries (health, money and unknown other factors). My sense of despair was close to tears. A genuinely horrific feeling. The most tangible sense of suicidality I’ve ever felt.

March 20, 2021. Last night was terrifying in its similarity to the previous night. Running on very little sleep. Confused and paranoid. Viscerally rotting and congealing.

Greasy pill bugs crawling in my clothes and on my skin. Fatigue? 11 PM. Vocally engaging in flirtation with Madonna on a bus, filthy feeling wherever I touched her.

(Illegible) throughout the day and night. No sleep. The restlessness led to a battering ram (illegible) wet mopping.

The voices and other phenomena have gotten far worse. Ongoing audible hallucinations and increasing number of visual disturbances. Walls bend and items move without cause. The noise of small rodents and ongoing chatter. Self-disgust. Feeling of people following me everywhere. Nothing seems solid. Engaging in conversations with voices. Threatening messages: jittery/nervous.

4/25/2022.  Became convinced that October 1was coming very soon. Panic attack. Can’t shake the fear.