I am so confused. I cannot even begin to figure out what is wrong. I know they say it is the steroids. These fucking pills that were supposed to make me feel better. to take away the problems with my back. Some make the pain less. But i did not realize what they could do. I didn’t know. Never saw it coming. How could I end up with a gun to my head with no idea of how I got there? I have been suicidal. I know what that is, and how the impulses start and fade. This was not that. It was different. I had lost control entirely. I was gone. Lost in my head. I don’t understand. Was I dissociating? was i psychotic? what the fuck happened to get me alone in that room. oh god. i am so ashamed. In the blink of an eye it could have ended. I would have been dead with no idea of myself and no control. Bipolar is scary, don’t get me wrong. Becoming suicidal is scary. but this is a whole different kind of awful. Virgil says it is the steroids. She tells me they do this to everyone. Does everyone come within a split second of being dead? no, doubt that. Do that disappear into some void only to surface in horror. I thank god some doubt crawled across my conscience. Would it have been over had I had a different type of ammo? would it have been done had i found a comfortable way to hold her. i am so afraid. i cannot even put words to how terrifying this is. I didn’t want to tell anyone. I feel so badly. it is just so wrong. by the middle of yesterday I had thought about it and realized that if the gun stayed in the house it might happen again with deadly results. But some part of me did not want to hand over that gun. I didn’t want to tell Beatrice, or Virgil. My gun was control. it was always here if things got too hard, to terrible. I didn’t want to relinquish her to anyone. But i was so scared about what had happened the day before. I had to say something. I went back and forth in my mind. I had to make a decision. I found a way to offer the gun. I gave her to a safe home, to keep her locked away. I let her go. my fear overcame my desire to hold on. god help me.
I have to talk about this. I have to process this horror of what happened. A steroid can do that? god, what now. What if I end up somewhere else? will that disconnect return? will it come back before the seroquel has a chance to work? I know they want me in the hospital. I realize that is best. but I cannot stomach going back. I just can’t. It has been so many times already. I cannot fail again and go back. relinquishing all control. what if they want to fry my brain again? they have ways of pressuring you in there. At the mercy of the staff and the drs, they make it sound like it is best. they change the meds, question Virgil’s plan. I can’t deal with that. I can’t deal with any of this. It just makes me sick. absolutely sick to my stomach with worry. I can only hold out so long. one more slip and I know I have no choice. I fucking hate this powerless feeling. I am just so disgusted with myself at this point.