Every time I get off section, I get a day or two of complete euphoria, where I feel completely and utterly as if I'll never have a problem again. I'm likely to make comments about how it'll be my last ever hospitalisation or about how positive I'm feeling about a new medication, how summat my shrink said really made sense and suddenly everyone seems to be working for me, rather than against. I make sweeping statements and feel on top of the world, even if an hour before I was discharged I was sitting in a corner hitting my head or having to be restrained, or whatever, which has happened more times than you'd think. I don't know anyone who has been in and out as much as I have, but I bet it's a pretty normal feeling for us 'revolving door patients' determined to finally get out of that trap and desperately needing to think that we will.
I'm not a realist, hardly ever, I tend more to expect a lot and make big decisions and sweeping moves that never quite work out, optimistic to reckless, thinking and hoping and expecting more of myself and the world than is ever really real, and I suppose it's another extension of that. I expect so much because, I think, I need to think that if at one point my mind could, and can, cause such destruction, if a past can conjure demons with such ferocity, then when it's not going against the self-preserving grain, my mind ought to be able to create something of beauty; if beauty is finite and a person creates a certain amount of a life, I've saved up years worth to be claimed. I need to know that the demons the past can create are nothing to the power and beauty that the future can. Simply, I don't want another 21 years like the last.
This euphoria lasts as long as it takes for reality to give me a beating. Over the last few admissions, it's been some sort of university thing, either them threatening to chuck me out or asking myself to quietly, like, piss off myself and save them the paperwork (and legal battle, ahahaha). This time, it's been a million things. University, feeling gargantuan, and if I'm totally honest, more than a dash of PMT, etcetcetc. And now I feel horrific, which is also part of the pattern; summat mundane or if not mundane, summat I would usually handle pretty smoothly, comes along and I start to doubt if I even deserve my freedom, whether I'm even stable enough and whether I feel in control of my actions and whether I can really take responsibility even for myself. So with that comes a LOT of obsessing about my admission, about the few days leading up to it and what happened whilst I was in, which is made a lot more complicated, and makes for a more fertile obsessing ground, as I can never really remember much of admissions, once I'm out. I dunno whether that's a psychological thing, or just because I tend to be on some heavy duty pillz whilst I'm in, but either way, I remember hardly owt.
So I'm obsessing. I keep going over the night I went in, and comparing how I feel now. Physically better, but mentally I'm still afraid and paranoid about sleep. I'm having nightmares too, a lot around being in hospital, which is making the idea of rest even less desirable. It's putting me in such a shitty mood, I'm angry and I'm still feeling everything too much, the increase of my medication hasn't caught up with me yet, I don't think. When I'm warm, I'm boiling. When I catch myself on the table, it feels like I've been shot. If a noise is too loud, it feels like daggers are digging into me. And I can't get hold of my thoughts. Everything is too heavy and near and fast, and that includes the obsessing and the shitty mood, I'm angry and alone and I don't know if that's how it all should be, or how I want it to be.
My over-riding thing is I want to be left the fuck alone. But I don't even know if that's what I really want, if my thoughts are even my own and... urgh. In circles. I don't know what I want or need, just that all the bad feeling is making me sick and I HATE the person I am right now, I'm impossible to deal with, an utter shit.