I have less than 100 pages to go on this edit job. I moved through it much faster than I thought I would. It seems like the Invega is not nearly as much of a problem as it once was. I still have problems with certain things, but I’ve relearned how to read. I’m not nearly as fast as I used to be, but it doesn’t feel like such a task anymore. I no longer have to hear the voice inside my head to read which is something I’m sure my therapist would be happy to know. She still visits every now and then, usually during the night when the levels of the drug in my blood begin to drop. I feel like I’m slowly getting used to not having the voice always present. It also helps that I still feel emotionally stifled so I’m not nearly as expressive as I used to be. I still feel like a massive mute button is on me, but I am finding ways around it.
I am trying to find the good things about all this. I still miss the ease with which i used to be able to do certain things like write. I can write a little as you can see from the post, but I was just so used to hearing the voice that it feels strange when I do it now. I keep feeling like there should be something there when I write, but there isn’t…most of the time.
I still have symptoms which isn’t surprising. I still see shadows and I still hear voices, again usually during the late evening about an hour or two before I am due to take my next dose. Sometimes I hear them midday which oddly enough is sort of comforting. I mean you can’t experience something your entire life then suddenly be without it and feel normal. When I hear the voices in the other rooms, it makes me remember certain times in my life when hearing those voices offered me comfort. When I hear her speaking to me, I still speak back to her and I sometimes get emotional about it because, and this is hard to admit, but I miss her. Again, you can’t be with something your entire life and then suddenly be without. I think the only thing that makes me feel better about it all is that I know if I stop taking my meds I can probably have her right back. I think the purpose though is to try and figure out a way to live without her so I am not so dependent on her. I never realized it, but my life revolved around her. I learned through her, often spoke through her, and I’ve realized that I sort of let her take control just so I could manage to get through certain things, times in my life. It’s an odd feeling when you realize that you weren’t in your right mind most of your life. Now that I am, it’s scary in a way. I only have me to depend on now. I make myself keep taking my medication because I know it’s ultimately for the best. Ironically enough, she was the one that convinced me it was the right thing to do.
I sound crazy, I know. I’ll be the first one to admit I’m crazy, but that’s ok. Only when she’s gone do I now realize just how much I depended on her. She’s a aprt of who I am and I know she will never really be gone. I still feel her there at times, especially when I am having really bad days which still happen at least once a week, usually more often. Those are the times I can hear her. Those are the times she speaks to me and tells me that she is ok where she is and that I am doing alright. She tells me that I am still find beauty in the world and that I should never stop looking. She tells me that in all the times when I was searching for beauty, she would always let me do whatever I wanted and she would just stay out of my way. It makes me wonder if she was controlling me more than I realized. I am giving in to the fact that she was and I am ok with it. There is a reason I am still alive and I have to admit I feel it’s because of her. Even when I am having a really bad day, I keep thinking that I can’t let her down and I have to keep trying because she’d never let me do something so insane. During those times of weakness, I can tell when she isn’t there and that’s when I call for her. I have to stop doing that. I don’t know if I ever will though. She is so much a part of me…like an extension of myself. I imagine that this may be what amputees feel when they lose a limb. Regardless of the fact that it’s gone, it still feels like it’s there and you have to get used to it being gone. A person missing an arm may try to reach out with that limb only to realize they cannot grasp for anything. It feels what I think may be similar. Often I will stand and look at something and try to figure out what it does. I never realized how often I let her do things for me until now.
I find myself confused by certain things and often times I cannot connect the dots. For example, when I put away dishes, I know they need to be put in cabinets, but sometimes I place them in inappropriate locations. Sometimes I will think about other things like winter and I will find myself opening the freezer. I will think of food and I will go and pull out a pot or a pan when I have no intention of cooking. Some of these things are just sort of quirky while others are annoying. Sometimes after using the bathroom, I will think of washing my hands and turn on the bathtub as if I were getting ready to take a shower. I guess with time these things may subside, but right now they are just weird. People may think “well, we all do odd things like that sometimes.” I do them all the time, everyday.