I set this blog to private so no one but me will know it exists. Its better that way and certainly what I should have done with the other one a long time ago. i am absolutely haunted by my own head right now. i am on no medicine for the first time in a very long time. i am having withdrawals from my antidepressants all while adapting to my lamictal. the feeling frightens me because i go from raging to calm to crying to laughing. all the while, i can see what i am doing, like a video running in my head. no pause button. no rewind button. most of all, no stop. id settle for a fast forward at this point. it is funny how the best thing in the world that has ever happened to me has also been the worst. finding help, real help, was the greatest move towards recovery that i have ever made. that very same help is robbing me of my life. the hours are long. i dont sleep. i cant stop eating. i am waivering between compulsive and lethargic. and tonight is the first time in a long time that i have felt like i wanted to die. i dont know that i would actually try to kill myself. i dont think that i am that brave. at least, i don't give myself that much credit. i also dont believe i am that much of a coward. death is by far the easy way out and i am not known for being a quitter. but, when i feel this way, i am just so tired of being me.

everytime i scratch an itch on my body, i swear it is steven johnsons syndrome coming to get me, to rob me of my opportunity to use the lamictal that should be saving my life. i am a dermatology nurse. i know better. i know what the signs of sjs are and i know that i dont have it. still, i watch for target lesions every single day. i wait for them, because i know they are going to come and make me let go of the lifeline i finally have hold of.

i have a friend, an online friend, who might as well live right next door to me. that is how much comfort i take in just knowing she is out there. she doesn't have bpd, but her husband does. he isn't much of a talker. i am incessant. she is loquacious and verbose. my husband is not. i feel like i learn something from her everytime i talk to her. sometimes, i think she learns things from me, but i am not certain. i feel for her, in the role of the caretaker, because i know what a handful i am. i have more compassion for her though, than I do my own husband, because she takes the time to learn him. she reads, a lot. she makes sure she is as active, if not more active, in his care than he is. but, i also know that he has put her through so much more than i have put my husband through...so far.

its like being in a cage. a tiger in a cage. you just pace back and forth, back and forth...waiting for someone to leave the door open. blam. you're through it and you are ripping at every single piece of flesh around you. and you don't want to be biting the hand that feeds you, yet you are beyond control of your situation. afterward, you lay in the middle of a pool of the blood, sweat and tears of others, licking your paws and wondering why everyone hates you so much. you dont understand why guns are raised at you and everyone is keeping at arms length. then, you roll over onto your back, paws up submissively, begging for your tummy to be scratched. everyone says awwwwwww. you are back to being the little kitten they all loved and all is forgiven.

who the hell can live that way, on either side of the cage?