With a Sense of Poise and Rationality

"Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality. I was curious to see what would happen. That's all it was: curiosity.”—Jim Morrison

The ever so mundane ramblings and musings, perhaps the pointless rantings and railings of an existential little nymphet in a constant state of change and transformation, for the sake of hedonism and self-awareness.

"Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to." — Dorian Gray

"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity. He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence."— The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

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With a Sense of Poise and Rationality

Tuesday, May 17, 2011 || 10:34 AM

Curious thing. I somehow didn’t fail any classes. It’s amusing to me, because I essentially cracked and just quit showing up like a week or more before classes actually ended.

My two interview teachers were actually very sweet, sending me a couple e-mails with my grade, stressing how the grade by no means reflected my progress, that I made a great and refreshing contribution to the class, and that it was all about turning in assignments.

Whether they meant it or not, it was still very sweet and cheered me up after the fiasco that was this semester.

And I somehow passed the class I did no work for all semester. I have no clue. I just know I passed. Probably because I showed up almost every time, I have no clue.

I’m feeling relatively better.

I essentially cracked hardcore two weeks ago, and have been recovering since. Went to my doctor, and got an ‘I told you so’ speech. I honestly both overestimated and underestimated my durability at the same time.

The crisis was not pretty. First I cracked physically in the way of an extreme clusterfuck of pain due to stress, then a few days later cracked emotionally while having breakfast with the one person who jumps rope with my triggers every time we talk and we’re not talking about the weather—my father.

What it basically felt like was just a sense of being empty and indifferent (after 3 days of constant crying). Suicide actually made sense. I wasn’t suicidal, but for an existentialist like me, subscribing to the whole Myth of Sysyphus thing and what have you, for suicide to make sense? Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal.

If you’re going to wake up day after day with the same sense of hopelessness, it’s not a matter of giving meaning to anything. If you wake up every morning to the notion of ‘No matter how hard I bust my ass for something, the results never reflect my effort’, then yeah, I can see why someone would cave in.

My father came in to the consultation as well, because he’s fed up with me and wanted a bit of ‘orientation’ to understand how one deals with someone with a ‘deficiency’ like mine.

The best part? When the doctor said “Sir, the problem with this girl is that she has a low tolerance for idiots and stupidity. She’s barely 21, she’s still developing that tolerance.”

So I’m being put on Lamictal to control what Lithium hasn’t been able to keep in check.

Problem with Lamictal being, that it has a bunch of scary side effects, and if I drink, they get worse, so no drinking. Which makes me sad.

So this week I’ve been abusing alcohol, and will continue to do so until Friday, them start Lamictal on Monday and see what’s up.

What worries me? Lamictal kills mania, or hypomania, in my case. Which means I might not be able to hear the voices anymore, or tap into the vortex, or just generally do anything artistic like drawing or writing because hypomania= source of creativity.

I’m tremendously reluctant. The price of stability is giving up all that? Now I get why a former friend refused to take her medication. It killed her creativity, and she lived off of that creativity.

Not a fan of this arrangement.