I seem to have been derailed in my blogging. It never ceases to amaze me that as little as five milligrams of one med can completely throw you off, but a fifty milligram increase of another can balance things out. I find the complexities of brain chemistry fascinating. As things stand the Saphris has been cut back to five milligrams and the Zoloft kicked up to one hundred milligrams. It seems to be working well. I can tolerate to relative stupidity and general incompetence of humanity at these levels. I’m down to a handful of Voices and they are relatively peaceful which is always a plus. Meds are great. Therapy, on the other hand, is a different story.
I’m on my fourth therapist. Two just up and quit, another was temporary. I keep expecting the current one to disappear anytime. I don’t generally get beyond five sessions before there’s a change. I don’t like change. It makes it difficult for me to establish any degree of trust. I have yet to get beyond triggers and cooldowns with any of them. Hell, I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to be getting out of this, the meds are the only thing making a difference. (If you’re happy and you know it shake your meds.)
I have been trying to work on my spirituality. Therapist #3 believed in the balanced approach of mind-body-spirit. It still hasn’t gone much farther than the morning coffee on the kitchen shrine and the occasional offering of whiskey so the pixies will bring back lost things. Sometimes I think they steal stuff just to get the whiskey. I put out the whiskey and less than five minutes later the item in question appears. I’ve been toying with getting my tarot cards out again. They can be a good focus for meditation. Yes, I know that faith and gods are unnecessary. I also know that since I came off the Seroquel I’ve felt hollow. I miss that part of my life so I think this is an avenue worth exploring, but I keep coming back to one question:
Where is the line between mental illness and faith?
I’ll grant you, I was probably highly over-medicated on the Seroquel. It completely wiped away my personality, my emotions, and my thoughts. I was a zombie. I was coming close to being there again when the Saphris was upped to 10 mg. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Does it really matter? I think it does. What is the difference between that “still small voice” (to use the Christian god as an example) and the other Voices in my head? One might say the message of the Voices differs, but what about the terrorist who says his god spoke to him? The Voices and I think blowing up Hellmart (aka Wal-mart) would be a great idea. Does that mean my gods want me to blow up Hellmart? I mean, Hellmart even changed their logo to look like cross hairs. How serendipitous is that? I digress, but this is why I’m medicated. It just brings me back to that same question: Where is the line? So many people attribute their actions to their god or even their devil (“The devil made me do it!”). Are they simply using the facade of faith to excuse the fact that they are assholes or did “higher powers” really use them as pawns?
Ugh. Too many questions.
Wandering Thoughts 