I'm starting to lose myself again. Two weeks without my psychiatrist around to guide me through and I am already feeling lost. I haven't needed his intervention, but it was nice to know he was there. Now I can't even get my prescription refills from his office despite the fact that they told me he was still caring for his patients for the next ninety days. My husband had to beg them to refill my ativan when I ran out. They didn't. Instead, I have to turn all of this over to my primary care doctor who thinks the answer to all my troubles is imbedded in a practice of good diet and exercise.

Suck it up, Stupid. I'm a head case.

I've been doing bad things at work...things I shouldn't be doing. I am taking immense pride in the things I am getting away with...simply because I can. I outsmarted the system. I am supreme ruler of my universe. No consequences...because that is part of my disease. I am untouchable. I am a higher species of human than most. Even at my lowest functioning level...I am still a fuckload smarter and more clever than most.

Humility is not my strong suit.

I pulled two overnight shifts...one after the other, running on pure adrenaline. My head is pounding and feels like electrical currents are running through it. I skipped my BPD meds and my schizo meds tonight. Just didn't feel like taking them. No sleep either...not in over 24 hours. You know what this is going to lead to? Disaster. I will probably have a seizure at some point. I took some pain medication so I can sleep. Ambien no longer works for me. I can't sleep though because there are disturbances going on in my mind that I don't know how to put to rest. I feel frenzied. I feel like a rabid raccoon. I appear so cute and huggable...come near me though, and your ass has rabies. I will bite the next person who speaks to me in a remotely assertive manner. I am not fit to have my children around me right now. My husband is enabling my behaviors, God love him. He figures its a phase. When I end up in prison or a psych ward, we can talk about phases to the judge or to the psychiatrist that ends up locking me up. I have to admit, as painful as it is to fall from grace...it feels so good to be manic again. No more depression, not right now...just a laundry list full of destructive behaviors.

There is no one around to say no to me. No one around to slap my wrist, say bad girl and send me to my room.

I'm in trouble, I recognize it...and choose to do nothing about it because it feels so good to feel high like this. Eventually the bow breaks...and down will come me, cradle and all.