“But I’m Crazy. I swear to God I am.”
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
Yesterday I lost my cool, no that’s not being quite honest enough…
Yesterday I went completely crazy, looking at the definition of psychotic I think I hit a few notes within the psychopath range yesterday.
Psychopath (noun) a person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behaviour.
I didn’t sleep last night, just spent the night thinking and dreading the return to the house. I knew that I would have to return, I knew that leaving the safety of my parents where I feel loved and safe to come to a house where I feel threatened and afraid could tip me back over the edge. This scares me.
My biological father was a violent man, I never wanted to be like him, but what is going on at the moment is bringing out me this aspect of my personality. It’s a part of me I have worked hard to lock away, to control, to never let out.
Last night I realised why Jezebel has been the person to unleash this part of me, why her incessant lying and abhorrent treatment of us is tipping me so far over the edge. I wrote the words before I even knew I had made the connection, or even what connection I had made.
I have only ever met one other person who lies as incessantly as she does, and he ended up in prison.
I hadn’t made this connection conciously, I wrote these words then stopped and read them back to myself and then the penny dropped. My biological father used to do nothing but tell lie after lie. His entire life was (and probably still is) built up on a mountain of lies, so many that like Jezebel he couldn’t keep track of them.
This is why she is affecting me so badly. It took me 25 years to finally move on with my life after having him rip my childhood apart with his lies and violence. Now just a few years after I’ve moved on, after I put everything to bed; because he finally did something so bad to someone the law caught up to him and locked him away; now I have someone new in my life trying the same tricks.
I spoke with my care worker today, I told her what happened yesterday, how I lost control, how my husband got hurt in the crossfire, how badly hurt I am physically and emotionally. Plus how afraid and anxious I was about returning to the house. She is arranging additional mediation for me so that I can manage those more psychotic outbreaks. Basically to just knock me out, and help me sleep through them!
We didn’t want to manage the situation with more medication but the feeling is I’m too far down the road right now for more natural methods of management, they obviously failed miserably yesterday, and damn I tried hard.
I fell off the radar of the mental health team for a while there, the person who has picked me up did my assessment back in April but wasn’t supposed to be my care worker. But when she found out having spoken to my GP that I had been floating in the wind calling and speaking to randoms for help with no ongoing support she jumped in and picked me up. I giver her kudos for that and not just passing the buck like many would have.
I stayed with my parents most of today and returned to the house early this evening. I don’t like being here, I feel anxious and uncomfortable, this doesn’t feel like home anymore. There is too much attachment to Jezebel.
We will return to my parents over the weekend, I can’t wait for the weekend. I’m terrified about my husband going to work tomorrow. Just thinking about it is bringing tears to my eyes and making me go into a panic attack. I need to stop writing about this now.
I miss the strong independent me, the me who set up her own business and made a profit in her first year. I miss the me who doesn’t worry about being alone for a few hours of the day and thrives on it instead. I miss the me that doesn’t have time for daytime TV and stupid iPad games because she’s working or going to gigs or travelling.
I miss me and I don’t like the crazy sick me.