PSYCHO!

It has been a running joke for months now with me that I'm evidently rather nuts! And if people don't believe me all I have to do is drink slightly too much on top of the happy pills and I turn into a raving blabbering weirdo!

Actually, In some ways I quite liked being a nutter there for, well, about a year nearly now I think. It was extremely unpleasant thinking of suicide on a daily/hourly basis for 6 or so months, but on the bright side it did mean I got all this attention off brainologist support type people who wanted to talk to me and give me wonderful modern drugs to make me feel better.

Feeling better actually wasn't some magic drug but took some time to accomplish. It involved intense counselling/monitoring with both a psychologist and a psychiatrist at the same time. The happy pills were so strong that they had to be put up very slowly to minimise the side effects, and I had to be monitored at every stage by the brainologists. Such was my level of depression and the stage I was at with suicide. For a while there I was measuring plastic bags over my head (I decided on the smaller most suffocating ones as I didn't like the prolonged suffocation thing).

After some time I ended up on a very high dose of Efexor; 300mg a day. Too high for the normal happy pill taking thing here, so the brainologists had to get permission form the health gods in Canberra for it to stay affordable on the PBS. Short phone call, but I did feel sort of special at the time! I was now up to 300mg! Hooray!

In all honestly though, it wasn't until I got there I felt OK. I remember one morning waking up and for the first time in ages thought to myself that I actually felt "OK". It had been many years, and I couldn't even remember the last time feeling like this. Brain pills don't work for quite a few people, but thank fuck they did for me.

I must have to say right now, I only became eligible for such intense help after I became HIV+. It was all free, apart from the meds which were well affordable. It's entirely ironic that exchanging an HIV+ diagnosis lead to the help that stopped me from suicide and saved my life. Not a good swap I know, but a very ironic one.

Anyway..... I saw my psychologist today after a two month break, of my choosing. Judging by the fact that I didn't burst into unstoppable tears during the hour session, and that he gave positive (oh I hate that fuckin word now!) feedback, I'd guess I'm not quite as nutty a psycho as I was.

It is of course with trepidation that I embark on this new journey of not so psycho. It does now mean I have more responsibility to look after my own head independently of the brainologists.

I throw the oar in now on this new journey. No not a motor boat, just an oar for now. One that will rediscover who I am after the collapse. Rebuild bits and pieces of my former self, but leave much of it in the rubble on the floor. I will have new priorities, new goals, new aspirations.

One thing is for sure, I will never be the same.