Truth be scanned, please
I just have to put it out there whether or not anyone reads this,
it is really hard to live this way, not in some figurative sense.
I turn my head and I get a brain “zap”
I sleep at night and dream of all of my fears it seems: tornadoes, plane crashes or near-misses, demons, my mom but not in a positive light, even rudimentary things.
I really get confused now if something has happened before if I dreamed it. I don’t know who I talked to, if I really saw that crash, police car, that person, that scene. It’s all muddy.
I have anxiety. I am depressed.
I take effexor which is supposed to help with both. I now also take mirtazapine for depression since effexor wasn’t helping enough with that. Yet, my anxiety has heightened in the last month or so. I have these nightmares and yet keep going back to sleep, almost purposely. I find it hard to find a reason to wake up. I am haunted by my dreams but find it an interesting place to be. So I go back. So weird last night too. I saw my mom. I felt some sense of control in this dream b/c I felt that I wanted to see her since I had already dreamed of demons and crazy spirit stuff so she appeared. What I could not control, so I felt, was her reaction to me. She saw me and looked down and shook her head. It seemed as if she was disappointed in me. Gosh, I felt that I could control the rest because I felt like I was dead and in this realm where I could see all of my family members. I saw them all and modified all of their faces to be a younger, happier version of themselves. I even thought once about my living grandmother and “heard” myself say that she wasn’t dead yet so she must not be here.
Kept seeing this poster. I could read words though it seemed to take such focus. I woke up and fell back asleep three times and kept seeing this damn poster. I seemed to have written it as a child. All three time I could remember the words except for some scribble on top. Yet, funny, I cannot remember all those words now. I slept too long after the dreams. But, after a while, I remember that the words on top were not all that eventful and then I kept hearing the names of “demons”. Heard like three names. Blah, blah, I ended up in an old house. These demons were there. I could not shake them away. So dark.
This is all so uncomfortable. I don’t know if who I am is beyond my brain. I never have really known that. My brain is directing itself or me to places that I cannot know if what I think or who I am or if I am anything that it all is too much. It’s like the antidepressants make me less prone to kill myself but at the expense of psychosis. This is truth. I am not in a drunken blurb. It’s what keeps happening.
As I said in a previous blog (poem) whatever, it seems that I believe in this cause of sustenance. Just keep on. But, I am not who I was. Not in a poetic sense or understanding of individual evolution. I think the only was for me is when I was getting away from some oppressive force. I am used to being belittled and pushing back and proving something. Now, I am GENERALLY nicer in that regard, to a point. I am flat on my face. My brain is a mishmash when it comes to daily life (still functions well when concentrated), and I am not really an I anymore. It’s like the first time that I’ve realized that my brain is taking over. I am in a new web and it’s being packed with drugs. Oh, and alcohol, but for another day.
If you have mental issues, why can’t you get a brain scan? Why are we playing this game of words, where I might be telling the truth and where the doctor is trying to pigeonhole me into a category of the DSM? It’s silly really. Isn’t there some sort of physical science involved? Is it all word play? Life and money, it’s all that is at stake.