Seroquel/Quetiapine – My caretaker

Hi,

Obsessive as I am, or maybe it’s a little bit nicer to say ‘observing’ as I am ( ๐Ÿ˜‰ ), I think I know why I tend to take my crisis medication (which is seroquel XR (also known as quetiapine)) sometimes and sometimes I really DON’T want it, although I can feel really horrible.

I’ve talked about me (Brianna) and the other me part, who is like a child part of me (Brenda). Well.. I think, and to be clear, this is what I think, that when I’m mainly thinking like Brianna, I will not take my crisis medication. Because I want to deal with this on my own. I don’t want to numb out, I don’t want the medication to knock me out into a sleep (which it does), I want do this on my own. Even if it means me losing something (like, self harm or something like that).

When I’m thinking more like Brenda, I long for the medication. The medication is my ‘mother’ who takes care of me. Who calms me down. Who puts me to bed and makes sure, everything will be ok for now.

Brenda-thinking only happens when I’m very triggered. Like saturday with the police, it was absolutely no problem to take the crisis medication.
However, before the police came, I was feeling like shit and suicidal as well… But there wasn’t a part of me thinking about taking the medication, I wanted to take care of this on my own! I don’t want to be knocked out! It doesn’t solve a thing! I get angry at people telling me ‘go get your seroquel’….. like; NO. That’s easy, because I’ll be off your back for a while. But the problem will still be here when I wake up.

But when I’m in a total Brenda modus.. Seroquel? Yes please!!!! *happy face*

Seroquel is the caretaker, for Brenda.
But definitely NOT for me.

Right now (today) I’m doing pretty ok actually. I’m keeping myself busy with working on my poem book (I’m making a book of my poems, and decorating each page with something! It’s distracting and calms me down. So I guess it’s a win-win!)

xoxo
Brianna

No police for me please

Hi,

I think it’s save to say I haven’t been in the best place lately.
I was talking to my friend Saturday morning about how I was feeling. To me, it was nothing new. Nothing weird, I didn’t say anything different. Or suspicious. Nothing I might not have said the day before for instance. Of course, I talked to him about how miserable I was feeling, and how I didn’t really see how it could get any better, and to be frank; how I wanted to die.
But to be honest? I said that to him Friday aswell.

Suddenly he didn’t answer anymore. Although I could see he had been online since then (Whatsapp). Well ok, I figured he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I was a little hurt but I can understand it can be a burden to talk about heavy stuff like that. So I just let it go.

50 minutes later the doorbell rang.. I opened and TADAA, the police.

‘Somebody phoned us, saying they were worried about you’

Well just to paint a picture. My heart as racing, I was beyond scared. Brenda SCREAMED terror in my head ‘ABRAHAM!!’, I couldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t even talk to the police. I just politely gave them my hand as a ‘Hi my name is……’ except, I couldn’t even say that. They asked me if they were allowed to come in. I couldn’t answer, all I could do was shake, and tears escaped from my eyes. I could notice one of them looking around and the other one focussing on my face (and my arm which is full of scars + a few fresh cuts). I was standing there in my pyjama’s, which means a tank top, and a short boxer pants. They were two huge men in uniform. Right in front of me. Very intimidating.

‘Can we go further?’
Brianna was still shaking and crying.
‘We’ll just go to the living room?’
Brianna was still shaking and looked at the living room.

I can’t even describe it. I know I texted my mum; Police is here. Get here now. < That I could do! Wow.
They started to ask me all kinds of questions. A part of me was still being smart, although Brenda was screaming, I knew… they’d put me in a cell if they take me.

One of the cops was real hard and not nice at all, he was very intimidating and scary to be honest. The other one was friendly actually, but unfortunately he didn’t say much. He did try to squeeze a sentence in when the other one was being so harsh and made me cry bad.

It all turned out ok.
My mum came, they left. I was ‘ok enough to not be taken away. I was not a danger to myself and/or others’.

But then I collapsed. I started crying like crazy. Shaking like crazy. I actually cried to my mum straight in her face saying ‘I need Abraham, mummy’.
I was sitting on the couch, she put a blanket over me and got me glass of water and my crisis medication.

Now, the day after…. I slept good thanks to the medication.
My house does not feel save. It’s like the police men are still sitting on the couch. Watching my every move. I don’t know what else to say except; my house isn’t save anymore right now.

xoxo
Brianna

Foggy mind

Hi,

I am going to try to write how the confusion in my head takes place.
I don’t know if this is due to the dissociation/triggers/flashbacks or just stupidity (well, I know it’s not that, but I just thought it’d be funny to say that).

I know a day is just a day, with 24 hours in it.

But honestly, I don’t know if I ever make the 24 hours. My body is there, here, in the present, here on the couch in 2014. But my mind/spirit/head (whatever you want to call it), floats off, leaving my body, staring into the distance, and my mind leaves me, I can not follow where it’s going, it leaves into forgetfulness. Sometimes I wish it would just stay there, because whenever it comes back (which it always does), it comes back hurt. Broken, full of pain, triggered. I find myself depressed, sometimes I start to cry, sometimes flashbacks start coming, sometimes self loathe washes over me, sometimes triggers come out of nowhere (things I that just can’t, like the smell of my father, I just had it 30 minutes ago (had to pause writing this actually), he’s not here, and hasn’t been here). I don’t know where my mind has been.

Sometimes a day, which technically has 24 hours, feels like 2 day’s. Sometimes when my mind comes back, I remember.. or actually notice I have to go to the toilet very urgent. Or I am very hungry. Sometimes my muscles are painful. Most of the times I am exhausted.

I do try to stay in the present by doing things. I really do! My mind is something I can not seem to grab or hold on to, it comes and goes and slips through anything. It takes back terrible things I do not want to remember. It leaves me here sitting on the couch like a dead casket. Lately, when my mind comes back, I realize, I’m freezing cold.

My tummy aches, body memories I guess. Brenda screams, or just cries silently with her security blanket covered over her mouth.

But I do try to stay in the present, by for instance reading stuff, but even reading can be hard. Just reading a simple sentence, just reading the words, and have my head define the words into meaningful things that are understandable. Sometimes I find myself reading 1 simple sentence over and over again. I can try to make a conversation with people, but as you can see (especially face to face this is terrible!) it is very hard. In real life, I am often too ashamed to keep asking ‘what?’

I’ve been in this state since friday. Since that trigger. I’ve been having triggers all over the place. My mind has been floating in and out. I haven’t even showered in 2 weeks (nasty right? I am so terrified to even go into the bathroom).

Ah, just daily life. Staying in the present is hard enough. Trying to live is hard enough. Trying to meet my body’s ‘needs’ (eat/drink/toilet) is hard enough.

xoxo
Brianna

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The need to sweep it under the rug

Hi,

I am writing this blogpost right now, because I feel the need to sweep something under the rug, which is my last blog post. Why? I am ashamed. Ashamed of my behaviour, ashamed of my thoughts.. ashamed of myself.

I am calmed down at the moment, had a tough but good day at therapy + a good talk with Brandon. However VERY tired right now, actually exhausted, but I didn’t feel ‘okay’ with that post being at the top of the page. I do want to be honest here, and I don’t want to sweep, so I decided this is a good in between. The post is still there, and here I am, writing a new one, explaining why. ๐Ÿ˜›

I long for my bed, (just turned my head and looked outside, its DARK!) even though it’s dark, although I don’t really know how I feel about that to be honest.
I’ll probably go eat some dinner and make myself ready for bed.

Polly will be here tomorrow and we’ll probably talk about some place I may be able to go to, during weeks, it’s a sort of living room, for people with mental health issue’s, who are stuck at home and just want to ‘hang out’ out side, but don’t know what to do. You can eat (lunch) there as well, for the people who have eating disorders and trouble with eating. There are people there to talk, but you can just go there and read something. Anyway, I heard a lot of good things about it! So I’m a little bit excited about that ๐Ÿ™‚

I’m gonna drag this tired body to the kitchen, put some dinner in the oven, and hopefully have a peaceful evening ๐Ÿ™‚ (peaceful = no triggers and/or moodswings)

xoxo
Brianna

I don’t even know what to say

Hi,

As today is monday, I had therapy.

It started out quite chaotic. I didn’t sleep well, and I got a call in the morning from the cab company that the taxi would be 20 minutes late (remember my last post? “I seem like a normal girl, on the outside”), since I knew my last reaction to the whole taxi-is-late, I tried to calm myself down with the thoughts of how it all turned out last time and it was okay to be late and I’d be able to get enough out of the therapy day in the end. (For me at that time it was very important to be at the beginning, because we discuss the weekend and to be honest, I really wanted to talk about mine, since I had a hard time, just in the hope that someone would notice me).

The taxi arrived (45 minutes late) and when I got at therapy I got in time to discuss my weekend after all! Only got stressed out a little so that’s a huge improvement from last time! ๐Ÿ™‚
After that we had psycho-education. The topic was intimacy and trust. Well it’s not just the words that make me shiver. It was all very confronting, and I do remember the first few things said, and that it really felt like smack in the face (I even remember thinking at some point “Oh, I want to copy this into my blog! Because I really recognize myself in this!”), I did mention out loud that it was hard for me to read this because it was so confronting.

At the end of the whole psycho-education, Brenda was screaming her lungs out. The topic was something about sexuality and touching and… UGH. I just couldn’t keep control. I do remember someone asking me if I was still there with them, and I just don’t really know what happened, at some point I do remember looking her in the eyes and just being scared and not knowing how to use my voice and not wanting to use my voice. Afraid to talk. Afraid to even open up my mouth.
I walked out of the therapy room (away from the group, the therapist asked me if it would be good for me to take a walk, just to stay in the present).

I just don’t know where I went wrong. I remember being in the bathroom. With my head against the door and just pressing my fist against my mouth.
My head was all fuzzy.

Anyway, the whole day was weird and cloudy. I got the feeling that the therapists are mad at me and they don’t really like me. At the end of the day (which I struggled to get through, and often doubted if I should go ask for an individual talk) I just gave up and decided to go play nice and just go home. When it was my turn to talk about the day I said; “My day was okay! Tomorrow I’ll see Polly, and I’ll be here again on Wednesday”. And then the therapist asked me if I really was ok, and the whole thing sort of came out. No, I wasn’t ok. I felt horrible.

I felt and still feel like you all hate me! (I didn’t say that though, like they’d admit that to my face)

Did tell her I felt horrible and she told me she was glad I told the truth because she thought I felt bad.

Anyway, I still feel horrible. I feel so disconnected from my body. If I could describe it. My head is about 4 meters above the laptop, and above this body and these weird hands are typing this. I feel this weird feeling in the back of my head/neck and I don’t know.
xoxo
Brianna

PTSD is taking all of my energy

Hi,

So today had to be a normal day.
But even the most normal things are hard for me to do.

Big troubles with anxiety, flashbacks and dissociation today and I feel totally worn out right now. I’m ready to start crying like a baby and scream till someone comes and picks me up and takes me to bed.

PTSD is taking all of my energy. I feel ย I can’t afford to slip much further.. I feel drained. Like I’ve been tapped… Someone has taken all of my blood but somehow still expects me to keep on living.
And the fun part is.. I get to sleep now, but sleep + night-time, never really means rest to me. So probably around 7 am (when it’s a little lighter outside) I’ll get some good sleep, till hopefully noon. And then, survive the saturday…

Is it over yet?
Can I open my eyes?
Is this as hard as it gets… ?

xoxo
Brianna

I seem like a pretty normal girl, on the outside

This blog post is very TRIGGERING due to talk about suicide and self harm

Hi,

People often think it’s weird that I have some issue’s because I seem like such a normal girl. It’s weird that I get angry a lot because I seem so sweet etc.
Looks can be deceiving.

Here’s an accurate example.

Factsย Me talking to you in the present

I was in the taxi on my way to therapy. I have been writing about how hard it’s been and just me fighting through the holiday’s, holding on to this date (january second) because it’s the date I can go back to therapy and just see the girls and just be myself again. Vent. Talk. Have some real life support. So I was pretty excited about today. Kind of a ‘TGITD’ feeling (Thank God Its Therapy Day)
So I was in the taxi, and this company that drives me always manages to get me there either really early (like 30/45 minutes) or too late. Well, today was VERY important to me, so I didn’t want to be late. Btw, the drive is about 20 minutes, 25 tops. The taxi got here on time, which means he got 45 minutes to drop me of there. Well, we picked up other people on the way (which happens sometimes, they combine the rides, its cheaper for the company ๐Ÿ˜‰ ) so I got stressed. Damn. I’m gonna be late! I asked the driver ‘Am I gonna be on time? I have to be there at 9.30 am’ he said to me ‘I am not sure’ I started to panick inside. Though my outside was still calm and cool, kinda poker face like, my inside started boiling. I opened my whatsapp and started talking (typing) to my mum.

Of course, we picked up another person ย (besides the person we already picked up, so there was me, + another lady and NOW another male was coming in) and it was 9.15 and then I knew… I Wasn’t gonna make it.

It just exploded in me.ย What the hell, exploded. Why?ย I freaked out. I held on for SO damn long. Fought through these damn ‘holiday’s’ and for WHAT? just so that I’ll miss the only thing I’ve been looking forward too? Fuck you. I want to die.ย Wtf? Don’t be silly, you’re just late.ย I want to kill myself RIGHT NOW. I don’t care that I’m in the cab, and there are 3 other people around me, I want to slit my wrist or put a bullet through my brains RIGHT NOW.

Yeah…. I see it’s stupid. RIGHT NOW. But at that moment (back then) I can’t. At that moment, I am panicking. I don’t see how it can get better. I don’t see how I will get better. I only see 1 way out and that way is suicide. I am scared to death. Unfortunately I know, if I had something with me in my purse, like a razor, I would’ve cut myself, while I was sitting next to the driver. All the normal things go out the window, the only thing that matters is that I have to die, no matter what. I have to be gone, I have to escape.

I seem like a pretty normal girl, on the outside.

2013 in a blog post

Might contain TRIGGERS

Hi,

So, 2013 in a blog post, this is gonna be nice one ๐Ÿ˜›

Well.. 2013 has been one heck of a year. Well I guess I say that every time, and every year it seems to surprise me what a chaotic life I have, which is weird, because it never has been different yet it keeps surprising me as if I expect different.
Anyway, it started real scary. I just moved to my own place. For the first time, living on my own. It was hard, finally a place of my own, now what? I started falling down hard, after a suicide attempt in february I didn’t really knew what to do with my life and just crawled back into my own fantasy world, which I used to do when I lived at home. I must have spent a few months there.. it was ok. After a while, I was ready to try back out again, and I started making contact with people. Mostly guys, let’s be honest xD. Went through the whole mick-mack with the heart-drama. Somewhere around May (?) I met Abraham, which I never saw coming and he gave me something I never thought I’d ever get, or I ever even wished or dreamed of, because I didn’t even know of its existence. Somewhere around July I started talking to Sander again I think, and Randy came… and went ๐Ÿ˜› man oh man, xD what a guy drama.

Mentally… what a rollercoaster. February was a big down for me. While Abraham was in my life I had a huge down (stopped with 2 medication type’s (Anti psychotic and anti depressant) which made all my emotions come back up, down i went, and well, a lot of downs since then. I guess only 1 really big one. So maybe just 3 this year.
But it feels like I’ve wandered around the edge of life numerous times, being tempted to jump and just forget the world. In february I tried, second time, Abraham pulled me away. Third time.. I pulled myself away.. wow.. I just realized that now.

2013 was the year I broke contact with my dad. The year I told my mum, straight to her face, why I have CPTSD. My mum told my sister behind my back (Which was a little disappointing, but ok)
I celebrated Christmas with my best friend.
I met Justy on ย Wordpress.
I started my blog here. Felt less alone by reading other people’s blog and their journey’s through life with their struggle’s.
The year I dated like crazy. But to be honest, the year I dates like crazy, but which made me realize, maybe I’m not ugly… because some guys I dated were.. well.. they’re were just plain hot ๐Ÿ˜› so it did give me a little boost ๐Ÿ˜‰
I got of to a great start with Polly, I trust her and I know how to be open with her and discuss things with her.
I learned a lot about (c)PTSD and myself and everything that comes with.

I’ve been down on the floor, crying like crazy, screaming my lungs out, but in the end I did get up.
I had stood on my balcony ready to jump off, ready to leave this world, but yet here I am writing this! ok.. this is freaking me out, I could’ve been dead by now.. Damn, glad I’m not actually. Otherwise I never would’ve known about Christmas with Bestie.. and how happy I have felt sometimes. So happy that I felt it was too much, happy-ness overdose.

Anyway, 2013, you have been a………. weird, amazing, depressing, loving, interesting year. Thank you.

xoxo
Brianna

Will I learn how to be one of you someday?

Hi,

Do you recognize those times when you find yourself looking out the window, at the world and seeing the people living their lives of which you know nothing of (of course), but as ignorant as I am, I’m thinking their lives are pretty normal and I just want to be a part of them, be like them.
Sometimes I find myself staring out of the window for a while, just looking at them, somewhat jealous, curious, but in the end I always end up looking away because it gets too painful.

I do realize that I may be pushing myself further away from ‘you’ than I need to, by picturing this out loud. But to me it’s just a little thing of me, that happens every now and then. That describes the distance I feel between myself and society. I know everyone has their issue’s, every family, every person has troubles and problems and for that matter I could be walking to the store and someone else could be looking down at me thinking the same. Things are just not visible on the outside. Even if I made a chit-chat with the people down there, I wouldn’t know a thing. I’d only know, what they want me to know.

I feel this huge yearn for that life. That normal life. That ‘boring’, structured, everyday life.
It almost fascinates me..

Whatever you do.. I’ll do it to, show me everything and tell me how.

I wanna know
Can you show me?
I wanna know about these strangers like me
Tell me more, please show me! Something’s familiar about these strangers like me..


xoxo
Brianna

“I was raised from a broken seed

& I grew up to be an unwanted weed”

2 scenario’s
Both not ideal

Number 1;
Sitting on the couch, and feeling scared, feeling watched, shadows linger behind you waiting to attack. But when you turn your head you can’t see a thing.. well nothing abnormal at least.

Number 2;
Sitting on the couch, and feeling scared, feeling watched, shadows linger behind you waiting to attack. But you won’t turn your head, you just wait for them to grab you, hoping it’ll be over soon. And that they might show some mercy.

This is al so depressing and victim talk and it disgusts me and yet it’s all that comes out of me!
Right now I’m in situation 2. I just don’t care anymore. At least not right now. Not about myself.

I am save at home, nothing can happen to me and yet this feeling of fear and the shadow people are all around me. Smothering me in their darkness.

And now I’m done. Enough self-pity over here. You should see me sitting xD, looking down at my chest, with a sad face. I’d laugh at myself if I weren’t feeling so down.

I am being hit by the kind of bullets you can not see

Gonna go eat some dinner. Writing this done, made me realize I’m hungry, which isn’t weird… since it’s 9 pm and I haven’t had any dinner.

xoxo
Brianna