That was some post yesterday.

I went back and read it about a thousand times. Do I want to reveal that much of my life on the off chance someone stumbles onto it who shouldn't?

Bet your ass I do.

Everytime I dump my dirty bipolar laundry here, I feel cleansed. It feels good. Really good.

I am starting to think I am immune to the Lamictal. I don't feel that I am getting better and it is well after the 4-6 week term. Granted, my dosages is still pretty low, but I am rapidly cycling right now. Not sure if that is as a result of the Lamictal or due to increased amount of stress.

Jesus H. Christ, I cried all last night at the American Idol tryouts. Every single time a kid got knocked off the show, every time a kid cried out of heartbreak, I was bawling right along with them. Probably moreso, because I can't stand to see a childs fire extinguished. And yes, even the 20 year olds are children to me now.

That's not the point.

Tonight when I watched the second part of the show, I was the exact opposite. I found myself picking everyone apart, saying rotten things about all the delusional contestants. Making fun of some of them. Really being mean and catty. Never batting an eyelash at how rude and crass I was being.

Light on. Light off. Light on. Light off.

How does a person live like this?

I am starting to hallucinate. Not auditory hallucinations, but rather, visual ones. I keep seeing bugs out of the corner of my eye. Bugs, or people walking past me that I know aren't there. Sometimes, I think it is one of my black cats or dog. They are all black, save for my one Peke. But, when I look over, it's never one of them. I am wondering if these visual disturbances are from the medicine.

I am so tired, unable to sleep. I am trying so hard to get myself regimented. It's not working. I attempted to take HALF a Trazadone the night before last, so I could sleep. I still managed to feel like absolute shit in the morning. Trazadone is definately not the right fit for me. I end up with violent dreams. Very sexual and/or violent dreams.

The dream I had last night was that I beat the ever living shit out of a person I knew back in high school and recently saw in "real life". Her name is Lynn and we were acquaintances in high school at best. She was a friend of my best friend, Abby. I never really liked Lynn. I found a number of reasons to beat her up in junior high school. This time, when I saw her again at Abby's birthday party, I actually liked her. She seemed really cool now, but still just as fucked up and pretentious as she was in junior high. She is now married to another junior high friend named Greg. I used to have a crush on Greg back in junior high. He was a big, strong hispanic guy. Really sexy back then. Not too much different now, except for my lack of crush this time around. And he is really smart! Great personality. My husband and I hit it off with him immediately. She takes some getting used to.

Anyway, what made this dream so peculiar was the setting versus the time. Everything was set back in junior high setting. It was from when I lived in Queens. Abby lived in the same apartment that she did as a kid, but she was a grown up now. Same thing for me. Old childhood apartment, but an adult, living there with my husband. I watched as an observer, sort of an eye in the sky, as Lynn ran into my husband at a McDonalds. He was online. They made some small talk. He kidded with her about the night we all spent recently in Orlando, for Abby's fortieth birthday. She, for some reason, interpreted this as a come on. I remember distinctly, her husky voice saying, "I should have done this the night of the party." And she slid her hand down the front of his pants, fondling him for a moment before he ripped her hand away. He came home, back to our apartment in Queens (Lynn lives on Long Island now with Greg. Husband and I live in Florida!) and told me what happened. I flipped the fuck right out of my skin in this dream.

I think I also remember telling myself to wake up, subconsciously aware that this dream was upsetting me. However, the trazadone had me in such a deep sleep, I couldn't escape my own thoughts. I pushed past my husband, in an absolute state of fury, and ran next door to the apartment building next to mine (where Abby lived as a child). I went to her fifth floor apartment and leaned on the bell, hard. Her sister, Marnie, answered the door. (Only, she wasn't a teenager, she was her 40+ year old self). I shoved her out of the way, ran into Mrs. Abby's Mom. "What's wrong", she hollered at me. She was her 70 year old self, despite the last time I saw her as a kid, she was in her early 50's. (I recently saw her again at Abby's...and she hugged me so warmly. I missed that woman and never realized it. She was like a mother to me.)

I ran into Abby's bedroom, which, incidentally, was decorated the EXACT same way as it was back in the 70's. She was 40 and living there with her husband and two sons. Weird. I screamed at her, "Where the fuck is Lynn (insert her maiden name here). I am going to fucking kill her. That fucking cunt is dead!" Abby tried to calm me down. I wasn't having it. I told her, "That bitch grabbed my husbands dick! I am going to fucking KILL HER!"

There was no more conversation with Abby. That scene just faded away.

I was suddenly standing at the McDonalds on Queens Boulevard, exactly as I remembered it at age 13. Lynn was walking out of there with bags in her hands. I grabbed her by her hair and literally dragged her down the street. (This is familiar to me, because this was something I did to her in high school). I threw her up against our schoolyard fence (mind you, the McDonalds was no where NEAR our Junior High, so this too was strange). I screamed at her, while I had my hand on her throat, "You like to fuck with other womens husbands? You fucking bitch. Now you are going to die." And I choked her. When she could no longer breathe, I let her go. She slid to the ground, gasping. I then proceeded to pummel her with every bit of fire and fury I had in me. I beat her til she was bloody. Literally bleeding out of every orifice. I knocked teeth out. I picked them up and hurled them across the street so she couldn't retrieve them. I continued to batter her relentlessly until my husband showed up and begged me to stop.

"You're going to go to jail," he screamed at me. "Let's go!!"

He grabbed my arm and, still swinging at the air, he pulled me away from Lynn and out of the schoolyard.

In the next scene, he and I were back in Florida, fucking furiously in our room. I was making snide, sarcastic remarks...asking him if he was thinking of the hand job he got from her rather than me. He screamed at me, "It wasn't a fucking hand job, CP!" And then, as if he were delivering a punishment for being so rotten to him, he slid himself into my ass with no warning. I didn't flinch. I was so enraged that I scarcely noticed. As a matter of fact, I remember feeling as though I welcomed it. I wanted that sort of pain and I threw my ass back into him as if to say, bring it on, fuck. I can handle you.

I woke up shortly thereafter. My jaw was sore from grinding my teeth. I felt disoriented and, strangely angry at my husband, despite the fact that this was all a concoction of my own mind. I was short tempered all day today.

I put myself into time out. Into bed I went. I slept peacefully for an hour and woke up less angry, though still quite disturbed.

If this is the joy of sleeping on Trazadone, I think I will keep my insomnia.

I have enough problems with mood alterations in my real life that I don't need them invading my dreams as well.