I don't remember much of the last couole of days.
I remember the handcuffs, and the caution. It's something to look at a cop and realise he's as wary of me as I am of him, even though I'm in an ER, lying down, being quiet. I didn't notice at the time but looking back, I understand. At the time it was just like... somehow, as though I'd just had a collar and leash put on, and that was nothing remarkable.
I don't remember much of anything. Scattered images and nonsensical, frequently unreal sensory input.
Those Crown Victorias have some real muscle to them. I'd love to drive one someday.
I didn't realise it was involuntary commitment until it was pointed out to me once I was released into parental custody.
The upshot is, the problems that I've been hiding, ignoring, leaving to simmer, downplaying, et cetera, are escaping and running much worse. So I'm going to do some inpatient time.
Not for drugs. Drug use, by mutual agreement, is the least of my problems. I don't want to go into details but I don't want any confusion either. This isn't rehab. I don't need rehab. I need genuine, comprehensive psychiatric help, which I haven't been getting because the few times I've spoken up to someone who could help, I was ignored. Dr. Altman knew some things but I never told her anything important so it wasn't her fault. I've just never liked admitting it.
So, most likely, I'm going to be gone for a while and come back more functional with an official diagnosis... I'm guessing either psychotic complications of Major Depression, or Schizoaffective, possibly flat-out Schizophrenia, but I doubt it unless this keeps on and keeps getting worse.
I know there's someone who reads this who has a relevant diagnosis. If that person wouldn't mind... I know they've been exceedingly reluctant to discuss that in the past, but, to be blunt, I *really* need some guidance from someone who is both a peer in that respect and fairly stable.
Other than that... I guess I'm okay. I guess it's a good thing. I took myself to the ER so tjhhis would happen. I've been thinking about doing it for a while.
But part of me is exceedingly angry about and afraid of it. It's the same thing that's kept me inside on the bad nights. It says, no cages. No chains.
Well, hopefully, the place I'll end up for inpatient will be like the place I stayed yesterday and today. No cages, no chains. Decent food, attentive staff but no bullshit brooked. It was good. I was afraid -- too many people, too much noise -- but it was all right otherwise.
I haven't been paying people the attention they deserve lately and I've been very reticent as to why I don't want to go on AIM, or respond well to e-mail, or hang out in person, or spend time on the phone. This is a big reason. The other part is, associated with this, my social tolerance has shot through the bottom. I'm so sorry. I've been working, trying to take care of it on my own, trying to fix it, but it just... it's not working and it was never going to work, and it was only stubborn fucking pride and self-second guessing that made me think I could do it in the first place.
But it'll be better now. I think. I hope. It better. Because I can't go any further down now. All I can do is wander sideways into new and ever-interesting permutations on the urge towards violence and malfunctioning sensory input.
At least I got my way in a lot of places in the election. A bill I loathed passed locally, a couple bills I wanted to fly died, and I was one of, like, six hundred people who voted for one of them that I really liked in particular, but the death of Rummy and many of my most loathed senators and congresspeople makes up for it. Plus, most of the other things I voted for made it, and I contributed to a great deal of chaos and restructuring in the local judicial district, so that's all good.
My back is killing me. I'll be poking at the Internet for another day, maybe two, before I go, and I'm hoping to be able to bring a wireless-enabled laptop with me, so we'll see. Otherwise... I guess... I'll see you all when I get back, hopefully with some good duct-tape repairs on my warped skull.