#21 ·
Sorry to be the one to start a new thread—it just feels necessary right now.
Things haven't improved. I’m still managing acute psychosis, though I’ve honestly lost track of the root cause. I don't deal with paranoia, delusions, or false beliefs anymore... I'm on a minimal dose of antipsychotics, but they also diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder, so I’m basically drowning in Xanax.
I’ve read posts from others here who vented about heartbreak, healed within six months, and came back to brag about being in their mental "paradise" again. I just can't seem to get there. Everything revolves around her. It’s been nearly a year and a half since we were together, yet I’m still awake dreaming of making up. But really, why dwell on such a cliché, old-fashioned heartache?
The real issue is the physical toll—my palms are constantly sweaty, I’m shaking all over, tapping my feet incessantly, and dealing with this stubborn restlessness. I’m popping Xanax just to sleep fourteen hours a day, but waking up is its own kind of hell. If I had to pick one major struggle, it would be how incredibly foolish I've become—it's almost terrifying to me. My focus is shot because she's always on my mind, and the psychosis has taken its share of the damage too. The only person brave enough to tell me straight was my best friend, who noted that I've actually become quite dim. Is there a way to treat that? I try to read, but everything I look at is blurred by this newfound dyslexia.
Even after two years, I can't seem to pull myself out of the mess I've made. I don't have any family support, despite trying to trigger some by mentioning suicidal thoughts—thoughts I truly had when I was on a much worse medication regimen. The only silver lining is that I’ve cut back on drinking and gambling, though that doesn't feel like much of a victory.
I feel like I've lost my sense of self. I once read that our illness isn't *us*—that we retain our core personality—but it feels exactly the opposite to me. My illness has become my identity. It has turned my life into a nightmare, leaving me a slave to my ex, my meds, my cognitive fog, and this akathisia. Right now, I certainly don't feel like a gladiator ready to slice through the ropes pulling me down.
How does one learn to live with an unrequited love, find the old version of themselves, or build someone entirely new? Has anyone actually succeeded in doing that? I feel terrible, and I simply can't go on like this.
Things haven't improved. I’m still managing acute psychosis, though I’ve honestly lost track of the root cause. I don't deal with paranoia, delusions, or false beliefs anymore... I'm on a minimal dose of antipsychotics, but they also diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder, so I’m basically drowning in Xanax.
I’ve read posts from others here who vented about heartbreak, healed within six months, and came back to brag about being in their mental "paradise" again. I just can't seem to get there. Everything revolves around her. It’s been nearly a year and a half since we were together, yet I’m still awake dreaming of making up. But really, why dwell on such a cliché, old-fashioned heartache?
The real issue is the physical toll—my palms are constantly sweaty, I’m shaking all over, tapping my feet incessantly, and dealing with this stubborn restlessness. I’m popping Xanax just to sleep fourteen hours a day, but waking up is its own kind of hell. If I had to pick one major struggle, it would be how incredibly foolish I've become—it's almost terrifying to me. My focus is shot because she's always on my mind, and the psychosis has taken its share of the damage too. The only person brave enough to tell me straight was my best friend, who noted that I've actually become quite dim. Is there a way to treat that? I try to read, but everything I look at is blurred by this newfound dyslexia.
Even after two years, I can't seem to pull myself out of the mess I've made. I don't have any family support, despite trying to trigger some by mentioning suicidal thoughts—thoughts I truly had when I was on a much worse medication regimen. The only silver lining is that I’ve cut back on drinking and gambling, though that doesn't feel like much of a victory.
I feel like I've lost my sense of self. I once read that our illness isn't *us*—that we retain our core personality—but it feels exactly the opposite to me. My illness has become my identity. It has turned my life into a nightmare, leaving me a slave to my ex, my meds, my cognitive fog, and this akathisia. Right now, I certainly don't feel like a gladiator ready to slice through the ropes pulling me down.
How does one learn to live with an unrequited love, find the old version of themselves, or build someone entirely new? Has anyone actually succeeded in doing that? I feel terrible, and I simply can't go on like this.