Antipsychotic Madness

I waited for months. 

I had become bored and lazy, useless with an ability to achieve nothing. I was beginning to hate myself for the lack of anything I get done. My memory was dire, I often forgot my sentence half way through it and felt embarrassed everytime I asked a friend to remind me of what it is we were talking about. I’m huge, I gained 6 stone in my journey with Quetiapine and it’s impossible to shift. The hunger is irrisistable and strong. 

I felt like nothing really bothered me either, I had a handle on my relationships, my inner sense of calm was growing although still I was confined to spaces I know or at home hibernating but I’ve been balanced and after enduring a lifetime of unrest it’s been a welcome break to feel like a ‘normal’ human. Still, I knew I have yet to engage with the outside world. 

So I waited, talking about it with friends and family. Before Christmas I had the appointment. It’s a testament to my balance at how long I patiently waited to visit my physch, to discuss the potential of me reducing meds, aching for more passion and fire which I didn’t feel whilst under the Quetiapine haze.  She agreed, and explained that I may not feel a 50mg drop and so I took the prescription and happily exchanged it for my new lower dose.

I was excited. I really wanted to come down from this potent drug. I felt strong enough to face it, even through Christmas. However this is not what transpired. 

From day one I felt anxiety. In my chest, shaking in my fingers, butterflies in my stomach causing a nauseous sensation in my throat. I pushed through as it felt like I had stepped out of the fog and into a more present version of myself. It felt like I could feel again. 

Then the arguments came, being on edge all the time with a constant flow of anxiety contributed to my behaviour. I felt jealousy, I lashed out. I argued and got highly emotional creating huge messes in my interpersonal relationships. I felt unsafe from day one. A sense that something is going to go wrong, something bad is going to happen and I won’t be able to cope with it. Panic jumping into my chest and flapping, my breathe short and fast, I think I’m going to black out, my eyes blur and I feel dizzy. It’s just anxiety, I tried to ride it out. 

More fights, busy Christmas, struggling to be alone, struggling not to be alone struggling with dark thoughts as they start to penetrate my consciousness. Drama in the new year only pushing me further to fall even though I’m so close regardless. I can’t hold on and I’m really far away from feeling balanced. 

I begin to ache, wasps in my brain. A longing inside me, an unjust crime. I’m hurt, grief striken and I just want to die. I’m aching for something to take me away, angry with the potential of having to live another 50 years in this world, in this head. 

I can’t tolerate anything. I have nothing to give as my ability to take input overloads and I’m unable to function. I can’t shower.. 6.. 7 days. I’m sore because I’m unclean. I’m crying and I’m craving to sit in a bath so I can cry in peace. I can’t eat, food disgusts me, the anxiety takes that from me. 

I break, I’m a mess. I haven’t posted my forms or been to the pharmacy or achieved anything except to cradle my brain in attempt to cool its cruel attacks on me. 

I gave in, I made the decision to up again. Taking some immediate release in the day and my extended release on the evening I instantly felt my body relax from the anxiety. I slept, for hours and hours, exhausted from weeks of being on the edge, lost in fight or flight. 

It’s been a few days now and I am beginning to feel like myself again and the familiar feeling of safety has returned and I feel a little traumared from the whole experience. I had read a lot, so many people advised that it’s a nightmare to get off and I think I might have to agree. 

My next appointment is in April, so I figure that I will try again then with a bit more preparation and a bit more practised  resilience. 

I’m definitely not ready to go back to work yet. I feel very much still in recovery and now recovering from that experience! 

If you are reducing any medication, get a Dr’s support and at any time have the dose you was at ready to take if you need it. 

It’s not a failure if you try, try again. 

#squishysays #keeptalkingMH #sharemystory


Finding Myself

I’m hidden somewhere inside. There is a version of me I never became, a version that never had the chance to develop and grow and is essentially stunted.  A version of me that struggles to surface and when it does it becomes overwhelmed and frightened.

I’ve always felt a significant split within me. The fight between keeping control of life at a normal pace or finding myself in the throes of anxiety, depression and grief unable to take the reins. This has always been my biggest problem. I have fought for years to understand why this happens to me, feeling like it is something I can’t control or change and is out of my hands.

I have always thought the part of me which tried to always carry on was the well part of me and every time I broke down or couldn’t cope I’d believe I was poorly. However, I think I’ve been looking at it from the wrong angle.

I am most connected to my feelings when I am ‘poorly’ but I associate it with negativity because I become overwhelmed and super sensitive. Denying this part of me for so many years I have unknowingly created a version of me that was able to put on the face and pretend subconsciously that I wasn’t poorly or suffering with anything at all.

Maybe more awareness of this will allow my parts to intregate further and move forward as one.

Food for thought, only time would tell.


Poorly Squishy

Ive been having some deep thoughts again lately. Getting confused who is who inside my body. It’s come to light that that there are 3 parts to me. The vulnerable part of me is actually poorly me, when she comes out she is filled with grief and is non functioning. Motivated is well me and able to get through the day with some function. The other part is Katelyn.. A headspace I choose to go into. 

Who’s Katelyn?

She’s the part of me that I love. She’s innocent and beautiful, gentle and fun. Vulnerable and kind. Free from darkness. I disassociate or maybe I just truly enjoy to regress to a younger age. Some could say that maybe she is the vulnerable and broken part except when I am her, I feel joy. I feel belonging and love and I enjoy every minute of being her. But she is somewhere I go for choice. 

Falling into poorly Kate is not and when she is present it cripples everything. I’m there now. Where I feel like I’m not quite in the driving seat. It’s difficult to think, process, like watching myself bumble along. I’ve been stressed, I smoke too much, it keeps me here, disassociated. It’s that quote that says we take comfort from the familiar, in our routines.

I know it will pass. It’s frustrating to be here and to wait for it to leave, for the positive feelings to return and to feel normal. To get my ass off the sofa and to not feel so stuck there.

I’ve been ill too, physically. Draining me even further and adding more frustrating. The parts inside me do feel like different people as they function from a completely different part of me and have their own individual levels of life tolerance.

My favourite is well me. It’s always a toss between hypo mania or just doing well. Constantly asking questions, examining myself, second guessing what could be causing how I feel. I like to feel well. Alive, and able to move forward. Those first few steps are magnificent but then I’m pinned back again, In fear of engaging in life again.

Petrified of it all happening again.

Up and down. Up up up.. Down down down.

… Then nothingness until something kick starts me off to feel in the driving seat again and the cycle begins again.

Does this even make sense?

#squishysays #poorlykate

Taking Seroquel: Expect This

A year ago I didn’t relate to this. After this year I totally do. Harumf.

Living Manic Depressive

You are going to sleep a lot!

If you are planning to take Seroquel, expect that you are going to sleep an awful lot. So much so, that you should assume that you won’t be able to do anything for 5-7 days after you start taking it. No office work, no social activities, no house work. Not even little everyday tasks.

The only thing I did in the first five days is sleep, stagger groggily around the house, sleep more, feed the dogs, eat, and then take meds and go back to sleep. Really. For five days. 

View original post 1,829 more words


I’ve come to a new understanding of some of my behaviours recently. I disassociate from life at every turn even when I’m unaware of it happening. I failed my driving test and automatically my body disassociated emotionally from the fear of the emotional disappointment and I just mulled along in this empty emotional space for a couple of weeks until something happened to shock me into actually feeling like I’m in the driving seat and alive again.

This is how I experience everything. I take days to process life, events and emotions. I disassociate so much that at the times it happens I feel like i’m just going through the motions and i’m not really making active decisions or feeling anything at all.

I smoke drugs and I drink when an opportunity arises to do so. A go to habit. Daily smoking and socially drinking. I feel myself out of control underneath my calm exterior trying to avoid emotion, doing what I can to feel numb myself to feel nothing, absolutely nothing. I am afraid of my own emotions. I really was quite crazy before the meds! This version of me is vulnerable, and unable to cope very well.

The other version of me is very capable of dealing with life’s ins and outs. When I feel strong I’m able to take on most things and feel able to grow and evolve naturally in my environment. My ability to process information and emotional issues increases and I generally feel lighter and less tortured by my sadistic intrusive mind. I feel like the splitting inside me is fundamentally cemented into my habits through so many years of disassociating without realising.

I used to think that my particular type of downs were unusual even from being very young. Other people dealt with things so much better than I did. Every time I returned back to my reality from being in a different place I began to have emotional outbursts and meltdowns. So I once again began to disassociate to deal with it, without even really realising on a conscious level .. Everything at home is forgotten about, I watch television even though I have a thousand things to be doing. Going hungry instead of walking to the shop when you have money. Not showering for a couple of weeks because you can’t bear the sensation on your skin and being clean feels too good for someone like me. Being dirty helps add into the feeling that I’m nothing. Self loathing is truly out to get me on most days. Its’ these times where I sit feeling guilty but I still don’t get up and do anything. Stuck in some sort of loop.

Its’ taken 20 years for me to realise that actually I have been and am suffering with a long lasting mental illness. This has been so hard to swallow and to process. The other part of me always wanted to keep on going. Get education, get a job, achieve, work. This part of me loathes the weaker side to my personality and has very much so made it super hard to accept my illness, blocking me at every turn encouraging me to stay still, where its safe in the familiar, safe in the darkness. I’ve felt at times like I’ve hated the weaker side, blamed it for ruining our progress in moving forward, in achieving self worth. No matter how hard I try to ‘be’ the person I think I should be it always ends in a looped depression of pain, self loathing, hatred, guilt and blame. So much blame.

As reintegration happens I have felt the awareness of these sides dramatically improve and in the therapy I am in at the moment, (the one day program) I have come to understand that they are there. I’m either driving as a vulnerable child or I’m a responsible adult taking on my shit happily and trying to move forward. I hope at the end of all this therapy I manage to become whole again instead of feeling so fragmented inside.


To the place I belong…

Bipolar affects my mood. A consistent down period lasting longer than a week and upto months when not knocked out of it either by medication or an upswing of mood.  I’ve been noticing this mood for over a month now and its not lifting. It began with failing my driving test. I could feel myself hanging on for the last bit of give I had in me before giving up again. The cycle of my moods desperately trying to make me fall into the darkness.

It sounds pathetic, but I do. I give up into a sea of hopelessness and worthlessness. I find myself ignoring life, feeling unable to participate, unable to put effort into anything. My internal dial tone is flat. I can’t experience pleasure in any activities that don’t involve dissapearing into dissasociation. I feel grief at the top of all my emotions, carrying it around with my like a heavy sack. My weight to bear.

There isn’t much in this space that helps. It all feels like I’m battling to something I’ve already given into inside. No fight for it.. just letting it win. Everytime. The darkness feels like it will never leave me, it will always be inside my brain like a bee. Buzzing around and making me feel like death.

Death is a funny thing. In this space I can talk about it until the cows come home. It feels normal like the next stage to make it all stop. I’m not sucidal at the moment but I would take a guess its on its way if my mood deterioates me. Thank god I have numbers to call and a medical team on my case. I can always be safe even when my thoughts try to make me feel otherwise.

How to explain to people that you just don’t care. That you’re apathetic to everything. That its not personal. That you care inside but its hell to get it out. You can hear music spinning around you brain, earwormed as it fuels the feeling of depression. Even feeling that shitty I regress a little. Listening to disney songs and music, finding comfort in that sensation of feeling small and protected.

I used to recognize myself, used to understand where I was headed. These days I have no idea. The path I once chose makes no sense to me anymore. I find no comfort in control, in ownership and in submission. This life is no longer what I seek, but I don’t have a clue what else I’m supposed to seek, where is my drive supposed to be?

Who am I supposed to be?