Muscles, Mimosas, and Misery

I know I want to write.  Fuck...it is so hard to write.  I have so many thoughts inside my head.  I am so tired and yet so awake.  I want to do so much and so little.  I want to be alone and surrounded by people.  I want to wash the dogs, clean my entire house, organize my new room, write poetry, write prose, write about my life experiences, do laundry, run 3 miles, dance, and now cut myself.  How can one person exist with all of this inside their head?  How can I survive with all of this inside my head.  I want relief.  At first, I was enjoying this ride, but now I want off.  What does it take to get off this ride?  Have I always existed like this?  How have I always existed like this?  Can I just have one thought?  One task?  I'm sleepy and do not want to sleep.  Someone please help me

I want an extraordinary life where I do extraordinary things.  In all the turmoil I have been experiencing lately, this I can say with absolute certainty.  I want an extraordinary life where I do extraordinary things.  The next part of this is figuring out what that really means for me.

I think I had a psychotic episode the other night. I definitely had a mixed episode or possibly extreme rapid cycling.  I've been reluctant to try and fix my head until that moment.  The worst part about it was that I had experienced parts of it before.  It was that remembered experience that let me know just how bad things are and how bad things can get.  I don't want to go back to that place.  The only positive I can say for it, is that I am relieved to know that when I quit life previously I really was having severe mental problems.  Now I know just how severe. So, what happened?  I will do my best to describe it, but in writing I can never capture the true feeling.  Things were going well, better than they had in a long time.  Ben and I were in the kitchen talking and joking around.  Then a message came across my screen and Ben got annoyed/dejected.  He said he just needed a minute.  His request was normal; my reaction wa...

I went to the psychiatrist today.  Overall, it was....well...it was an experience.  I have been terrified of taking meds from the beginning.  This fear has fueled my anxiety towards the psychiatry visit.  I was cool, calm, and collected as I pulled into the parking lot.  I was calm and confident as I opened the door to the building, but the moment I entered the waiting room panic welled up inside me.  "Fuck, I'm really hear," I thought.  The initial process was no different from any other doctor's office.  I filled out the intake paperwork and had my vitals taken.  I was then sent back to the waiting room.  A few minutes later I was called back to the "exam" room and my panic continued to grow. My therapist had been very insistent that I see the actual psychiatrist.  I would have been so much more comfortable if I had seen the psychiatrist.  Instead, I saw the nurse practitioner.  I have nothing against nurses, and I kno...