Saturday, October 15, 2016

JM-39

Of course: the chemicals.  I became ill about a week and a half ago.  Nothing new there.  This apparently has become my body's way of objecting to my life.  I go a few days without eating, then slowly work my way back up.  I know it's insane, but that's what mental illness is.

The problem with this round was that I wasn't getting better, only worse and worse. I started falling down, a lot.  I flopped like a fish on my apartment floor, on the hallway floor, on the basement.  The last one, yesterday, I almost broke my collar bone.  People said I wasn't making much sense and God knows what I did to my checking account. That alone will  take a day to figure out.

The cops did a welfare check on me last night.  They kept trying to talk me into going to the hospital, especially after they found out I had no phone or internet.  Hell, no!  This has become one of my deepest fears: stuck in a nursing home.  I will fight tooth and nail any attempts made to "take care" of me.

So, what was going on?  I thought and thought, and then it hit me.  My psych drugs vary from mild to "kill a horse."  My new shrink said I was on a very heavy dosage, all meds considered.  I cut out the Seroquel and other downers this morning and I've been feeling better ever since.  I've eaten.  I can walk around without falling down.  I got the phone and computer back online.  I'm farting lilacs.

A special thank you to four people who have helped me along.  Angels do walk the earth.


Post Script:  A day later.  Last night I decided to test my theory again.  After the efforts of the day were completed,  I took a Seroquel.  Within an hour I was on Rubber Legs Street again.

That's it and I haven't had one since.  I spent the entire day running errands, budgeting, and doing housework.  Still no detectable signs of withdrawal.  I'm seeing my new shrink tomorrow.  We have a lot to talk about.

No comments: