one last try ·
30 June 08

I’ve decided to extend my little experiment of not taking my anti depressants. I’ve got The Killers playing in the background, and it’s rather uplifting. It’s catchy, repetitive, derivative, and yet it still has a sort of luring appeal. Perhaps it;s the bland and simple lyrics that make the whole thing work, but it’s not infuriating me or annoying me in any way. It’s not going to be my therapy, but I’m glad that I’ve found something that I wouldn’t normally be into to appeal to me. It’s either me lowering my standards, or I’m in a vulnerable state that anything would be a good distraction.

Rather than going cold turkey, I might be better off working with my medication to reduce it. That is taking it, at regular intervals but taking less than normal. I’ve explained it before, that I would ration my medication to ween myself off it. I think I may do the same with anti-psychotics. If I were to go cold turkey, I know heads would fly, and bodies would be buried. Perhaps.

On the plus side I had an old friend message me in MSN Messenger yesterday. We haven’t really communicated for a year or more, so I’ll be hooking up with him and a friend of a friend. We all know each other fairly well, and we’re all going in directions life wise. It will be interesting to see what happens. Perhaps nothing will happen, I’m not sure. But I need his help in any case, to write my reference, having known me for 14 years. It’s selfish, I know, but I don’t have any alternatives where the individual has known me for a long period of time to demonstrate my aptitude and determination to succeed.

I was about to take my medication, but didn’t. It’s become routine for me to take medication as and when needed, and breaking out of that habit is as difficult as the habit of taking the medication itself. It’s almost as bad as smoking. You know it’s good, or bad, for you, and yet you don’t want to be dependant upon it and therefore try to break the cycle. I’ve been in that cycle for over two years now I think.

What worries me about University, aside from not getting in, is do I declare my illness. If I do, I was told by a friend that they would attach a counsellor/psychologist to me, and I would have to go for regular appointments to see how I’m doing. It won’t be CBT or any form of real therapy. I don’t find talking about myself particularly useful or important. In fact I find the exercise pretty futile. I just want to get on with what I’m doing without having to report to the Gestapo when I’m finding things difficult. If they offered intense therapy, I would consider it seriously.

But meeting every so often to just blurt out that I feel homicidal and then get involved with people who don’t understand me only for them to then treat me like a head case, is something I don’t particularly feel I would appreciate. I can already imagine how bad it might get, and how complicated it would be, perhaps making my studies a waste of time. I don’t need to meet every so often to remind myself that I am ill. I already fucking know this. I need help, but not a wall to talk to. That’s not therapy, it’s banging your head against such a wall till you bleed or crack your skull – or may be both.