A new Chapter (Diary entry 16-03-2022)

It has been a while since I’ve last written in my diary. Last time it was… draining, confronting and frightening. I spoke of my mental condition and how it seems to work and manifest. I also wrote that I didn’t know my reason for living. I can’t say that I do now but, I’m working on it. I’m seeing a psychiatrist, the same one I visited many times before. This woman knows me and understands me, at least I think so. I still have a few doubts about her and her way of doing things. She immediately started pushing me back on the pills I had before. The ones that make you drowsy, confused and even more depressed. Quetiapine, that is the name of the drug. I’ve been using it for about 1 ½ months now. I can’t say it’s working. Well it’s working but in the wrong way. I get tired, agitated, suicidal, the nightmares get worse and the sounds and voices get louder and more present. I don’t know if this is normal but I do know that this is not helping for now. I even threatened my wife for crying out loud. I was dozing of in the couch while my wife was telling how her day went. Suddenly I went completely ballistic on her when she told me she bought something quite expensive. Normally I don’t care about money. I don’t care if she treats herself once in a while. But In my mind it was like she threw everything away at something ridiculous. My wife told me she became afraid of me. She has never been afraid of me. She knows I’m… different. She knows that I sometimes act different. But never like this. Not like this. I’m glad the kids were already asleep. Who knows what would have happened. I couldn’t remember a thing after this incident. But after our place got robbed in January I installed some camera’s around the house. So I could watch myself lose control. I could see what kind of monster I become. I know this must be a side effect of the drugs. And the psychiatrist acknowledges it. It could be a severe side effect but she tells me they should go away after a few weeks. Well, it hasn’t gotten any better. Maybe I’m not giving it enough time. But a few weeks isn’t 6 weeks, is it? My psychiatrist suggested that I voluntarily admit myself in a place where they can monitor me 24/7. Until the medicine and the therapy start to take a positive turn. She fears that if we don’t get the doses right , or try a different drug it might get dangerous to be around my wife and kids. I have never been a threat to my wife or kids. I would never hurt them if I didn’t take those medicines. But I must give it some time. How hard it might be. I don’t want to go to a place where I can’t leave. Where I’m locked up. Where they consider me dangerous. Where they think that I’m to be pitied. Locked up, alongside others with other problems and other needs. I don’t go well with others. I choose my company very carefully and thoughtfully. I’ve read the ‘regime’ they call house rules for that ward. It’s like we are little kids, dangerous criminals or worse. If that is the company that awaits me there, than I don’t know if it will help me get better or make it even worse.

But after that incident with my wife. She keeps pushing me to that place. My wife also thinks that is a good idea. They force me to separate from my kids for a long, undefined, unclear time. How can I say yes to that? I don’t even know if it will help this time. But last time it was a different situation. I was forced there. I was forced to be in a place I hated. Thank you mom and dad for ruining my teenage years. I was a confused boy. I was all kinds things. But not even once did the therapist ask me what I wanted. He told me what my parents told him. He was a puppet. A slot machine. Put in your quarter and let’s see how lucky you are. Oh ADHD, nice. Bipolar Disorder, interesting. Only a little depressed kid, scared of the world around him, pathetic. Not that game again. What will be different this time, suppose I agree to a voluntary stay. Another therapist pushing drugs at the right time, walking around, observing, writing, whispering. Everyday talking in a circle about your struggles and pains when they only nod and ask, but what can you do about it? It’s like they only learn that sentence. But I need to think about this allot longer. But I can’t wait forever. It’s not like this place has an open door policy. There is a list. Yes, I have to wait at least 2 weeks before admittance. And I must stay sober (No drugs or alcohol) at least a week before my stay will start. Well I wasn’t doing drugs before they pushed some pills on me that get me here in the first place. And alcohol hasn’t touched my lips in months because of the drugs. I don’t know what to do. If I stop with the drugs, will I become ‘Normal’ again but sad, depressed, haunted and cursed for the rest of my life until I grow old and die? (If I don’t end it earlier). Or, do I go forward on this new path and see where it leads me, with the possibility to never return to where I came from? Questions that will probably haunt me tonight.