Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I have a crazy week in store. Tomorrow is the last normal day in my sweet downtown apartment. I’m calling the school because I have questions about my classes and I’ll probably do my laundry. Then I sleep before work and on Wednesday morning I meet the movers who will do a quick inventory – I don’t have much to move anymore – and Wednesday night will be my last night in my sweet downtown apartment. I’m going to really miss it, and the colorful neighborhood, even though I want my house back. Major DBT principle – two things can be true at once.

My brother had his birthday and we’re celebrating by going to breakfast at the restaurant my older brother has worked in for years and years. On Thursday both my brothers and my older brother’s wife and kid will come over for my mom’s planned barbecue. I can’t help but wonder if she didn’t plan this on my move-in day to be passive aggressive. She also pretends I don’t communicate with her, pretends I didn’t tell her every week for the last month that I would be moving back in. It’s fine, I know it’s my younger brother’s night off from work so in fairness, Thursday makes the most sense. Maybe it will help make the move-in less awkward and stressful, to have my older brother and his family there, plus a niece I’ve never met. My older brother had a few kids by different women and one of them has turned 18 and wanted to meet her grandma, my mom. She did for the first time last night and then the big BBQ was planned.

After tomorrow night, I have the rest of the week off to try to get as settled in as much as possible. There’s so many little details. I have to install curtain rods for my blackout curtains. I hate installing curtain rods. I have to battle my mom for a lot of things, at least that’s what I’m anticipating. I shouldn’t do that. I know I’m not supposed to do that. I really want to give her the benefit of the doubt. I really hope she will stay out of my way.

I’m just glad I’ve managed to stay med compliant even though there are times I want to say fuck off to the meds. Sometimes I get so discouraged and remember and feel the memory of moods that compelled me to give up, that fed voices in my head telling me to capitulate and die. I’ve historically struggled with med compliance. Even now, I miss a dose once in awhile. Or my stomach is too unsettled. Sometimes I lose all faith in the meds. Or I come to believe there’s no point anymore.

But right now I am taking them and take it seriously. I have some EPS symptoms, in particular, twitching. Some of the muscles in my face and around my eyes have subtle twitches and spasms. Nothing too crazy yet but I have PRN Benztropine for itching and twitching. I’m terrified of ever developing that tardive dyskinesia bullshit. Being functional, appearing functional…that shit is just too important to me.

I’m preoccupied with aging, the slow march of death, but especially, the slow march. Some things are so much worse than death. Like dementia. I am always shocked at how willing people are to be full codes into their 80s, clinging to life. The invasive shit people go through in healthcare is appalling. All to snag a few more years of life, if that. I don’t get it. So, I hammer out all my wishes now. I won’t go through any of that invasive shit. No tubes, lines, drains. It’s okay for others maybe, but not for me.