grad school
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I am compelled to take on a sort of leadership role within my class groups. Last week fumbled out as a mess and we were late turning in our assignments. The first parts to a grander design. I also have a head start. I go to work at 6pm every Sunday night at the VA.…
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I am really in the weeds now. So is my friend Shelly, currently in school and about to enter the RN program. You might recall she was there when I was detained and sent to the mental hospital, and she took care of my cat while I was there. I’m halfway through my program and…
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This weekend marks the close of the Winter I quarter. Monday begins Winter II, and an official halfway point towards this master’s degree. There is Spring 1 after that, and the last time I will have two classes at a time. I will have only one per quarter starting Spring II. I will be finished…
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The last week of the winter I quarter. Final papers, projects, all due by the end of the week. There is literally no turn around time – winter II starts Monday. Sunday night, really. That’s when the classes appear in canvas and I get right to work. It is all accelerated and I like it…
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“What do you think Dr. P? Did you imagine me capable of this?” “How about you, Shirley? – you were the one who told me to take classes again.” I think about them sometimes. The staff and other patients in the hospital with me. Shirley was a nurse who dealt with my sleepwalking, gave me…
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I have daymares. No nightmares in awhile. I take prazosin, for nightmares. I was always kind of skeptical of that – how can a pill get rid of dreams, specifically, the nightmare variety? It probably can’t – the placebo does most of the work when it comes to a lot of meds. We believe it…
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I am a man who feels more stable under routine conditions: I develop routines for my day, my week, for grad school and work and I apply these routines to the smallest things like what clothes I wear or how I arrange my house. I have always been into a routine. Or sought to develop…
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I’ve caught up on my meds. I’m feeling rather turbo charged despite a lack of sleep and living on mostly chocolate the last few days. The PTSD symptoms are still ever present. I saw a rust-colored car and immediately felt short of breath and my heart beat faster. Rust is the color of the elopement…
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So sensitive to noise. Every crash and bang startles me. Reminds me of the mental hospital, all the cacophony and slamming of doors. But I’m getting through it. The meds deaden my response. I’m not cycling so hard. I have short lived mood swings, especially if I miss my meds even one day. That did…
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Things are bad at home. There was a fight…and I’m not sorry but I still feel like shit. I never called names, I felt instead like I was defending myself. But she’s so good at positioning herself as the victim and me some kind of evil abuser. Who knows, maybe I am. And I don’t…
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 