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I am sitting here at my computer, free of drugs. I have finally ceased all my medications. No antidepressants. No analgesics.

And I feel really good.

My mental awareness is sharper. I have more energy. I even see a future! And surprisingly – I can see myself.

After a long, LONG convalescence I’m now back on track. My psychiatrist said that I gave antidepressants a fair crack and it’s now safe to say they aren’t really for me. I feel so much lighter without them that I feel like I’ve been born again. I’ve felt like that the past two years was a lifetime of suffering. Being a prisoner of my own brain chemicals that I kept spiraling to the conclusion that I didn’t want to live anymore. I shut myself off. I just wanted to be safe.

In some ways I’m relieved that essentially I’m still the same person I was before. I am much better at managing myself – but the dreams I had are still there. My MIND is still there. The acuity of senses, the leaps in logic – it’s still me. I started remembering all the things I wanted to do as a teenager before I turned 30, and now I’m going to go out and do it. Because I want to BE more, DO more.

I can be anything I want.

I guess I could write a new years resolution post but I won’t.

The last year was certainly a tumultuous ride. I can’t say with any truth that I enjoyed much of it.

I had crappy December with the magistrate at court being a complete jerk to me, an anxiety attack over Christmas (with the inability to enjoy Christmas at all) and completely screwed up sleep patterns.

I know I’m supposed to subscribe to the power of positive thinking.

Positives of December:
I spent some quality time with Annie (and her other half).
I got a bonus from work.
I made new friends on Puzzle Pirates.
I got an eyepatch for my pirate in Puzzle Pirates.
I met a pyschiatrist who is mostly positive about going through DBT next year.
I got a new pillow during the after Chrissy sales and it’s fantastic to sleep on.
I finally finished watching all 167 episodes of Inuyasha.
Blinky is still as cute and cranky as ever.

And January so far has been great. Kath and I had a hugely successful Thanksducken. I’ve been on an interstate trip for work where I even saw an old friend.

However I find that being positive is so tiring. I’m starting to lose grip and I can’t summon the heart to be productive. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. As much as I’d like this year to be a whole fresh new start, I can’t say that it will. I still have so much hard work ahead of me with treatment and therapy. This court case will go on for a little while because my lawyer and I are appealing the sentence severity. My parents go spastic if I drive. I’m still working in the same job and though it’s broadened a bit I can’t say it’s challenging or even interesting. I have school to look forward to but I can’t even summon enough energy to be excited about it.

I’m supposed to be 26 but I have the mental age of someone who is 16. Which is probably why I’m indulging in this pity party. I find it difficult to talk to most people. I can feel that I’m slowly becoming more withdrawn and increasingly better at the lies of omission.

A new year with the same shit.

One of the things my psychologist and I have talked about if finding hope. To write down things that you wish for, things that you would really like to happen. He said that in doing so, it’s set in concrete and reminds you that there are things to look forward to even if they don’t eventuate.

To put my own spin on it, I decided to start a Hope Chest. A Hope Chest is traditionally what every woman makes for her future home. She embroiders linens, makes clothes for her children, that kind of thing. I know that what I want is a very traditional life. I want to be a homemaker. I’ve organised a list of projects I want to do, and actually started doing them. I’ve finished my first patchwork quilt which is currently been sent out to be machine quilted and I’m halfway through knitting a baby’s jacket. I’ve cut out a cute “Mommy and me” apron set. I’ve looked into heirloom sewing and earmarked projects.

It’s helped in that having something to do makes me less maudlin. Every time I inch closer to finishing a project, I regain my self confidence in my skills. I feel more inspired to do all these things, to make all these things – to build a hope of a future. To KNOW I have a future.

Detoxing has been really hard on my family because I turn into a mega bitch. My psychiatrist and I agreed that it was time we took a break and remain on a steady level so I could enjoy Christmas and the New Year and for my parents to actually see that I’m not always surly (which is a complete lie!). I’ve got an appointment for assessment for the DBT program and I’m prepared for the upcoming year.

Everything is quite steady at the moment. I’m having fun rebuilding my fabric stash and dressmaking tool set. I put down a deposit on a top of the line quilting machine. 1000 stitches per minute! I even got a bonus from work. I finally finished watching all 167 episodes of Inuyasha.

I even went on holiday over the weekend to Port Stephens. I drove there and back in a hire car and ignored my parents protests. It felt quite liberating to be free, even if just for a little while. I did however get told off in Newcastle for lying down on a bench and that I wasn’t allowed to sleep. Yay for intolerance in small country towns. Or maybe I just look like a hobo in my Hello Kitty T-shirt.

Anyway it’s time for me to go to bed. My sleep patterns are a bit all over the place, partially due to work and partially due to drugs. But a while ago I had a dream of my future wedding dress. Maybe this summer I’ll get around to making it.

I’m struggling to continue the good fight
Against myself as I rock back and forth,
Repeating reassurances so trite
Internal mocking with my own scorn and wrath.
The precarious edge of sanity –
Intellectual discourse not holding me back,
Out of needless spite and sheer vanity
The angry id refuses to keep track.
Scoring deep with the blunt edge of a knife
It does nought to dull the incessant pain.
What I would give for God to take my life!
In the dreary vista of endless rain.
Every day is slowly taking its toll.
Please help me please, as I start to lose control.

Today I sunk in a horrific depressed mood. Horrific because I had been riding on a high for a whole week and to come crashing down was difficult.

But after sitting for a few hours at my computer half catatonic, I figured out why.

Last night I was visited by a friend of mine and I spilled all the details of my latest crush. However, my friend is so… cynically realistic that she had almost half convinced me that the guy wasn’t actually interested in me. That I was just an amusing companion that he wrote emails to.

It got me down because I almost believed (given my propensity to think the worst of myself) that all I was is amusing, and not worth pursuing. It felt brutally punishing to my ego that all I am is just a passing fancy to someone who is merely bored at work.

I’m naturally an optimistic person but my friend isn’t. She is of course speaking through her bitter experiences and her own disappointments and cares enough about me to try and stop me being crushed later.  And then on top of that, she gave me tips to be more coy.

In a rational sense, I can see where she is coming from. But like any girl, I just want to feel for a little while that I’m enjoying this burgeoning relationship that isn’t quite defined. That the possibilities are open that he might ACTUALLY like me. I’m experienced enough to not throw all caution in the wind, to be honest I hardly know the guy so I’m not going to pin all my hopes on an unknown entity. But neither am I one to simply be coy in an effort to go fishing. I’m straight forward and I don’t want to play games.

I guess I just don’t want to see life so negatively. I spent a whole year of being in bed thinking of negative thoughts. And because of them I’ve hurt myself time and time again. And now that I’m finally excited about living, I want to live it with great optimism. Though it seems catty to say, but my friends dark cynicism hasn’t gotten her any closer to achieving her desires. I think in some respects it has made her so risk adverse that she’ll never find what she’s looking for because she’s too scared to even see it.

In this week of almost manic joy, I’ve spent a wonderful weekend with my kids (and got drenched top to toe in a massive water fight!). I’ve cooked up a storm and somehow my joy has transferred an intuition in my cooking that it somehow tastes really good to eat. I haven’t even had a batch of failed cupcakes. I even opened up a mathematics textbook and started on problem set 1A. My brain isn’t too happy about it, but I’m feeling really accomplished and proud of myself.

If being that cynically realistic in the name of self preservation, I don’t think I want to be that way. I’ve been more productive this week then I have been for the last year. As Louise said to me, I should never stop being me, but just be the best me that I can be. The best me is someone who writes chatty emails, who loves baking, who sings at the top of her lungs, who holds hopes and most of all, who is honest. And if he’s the one, then he’ll appreciate every single one of those qualities.

I never want to sink down as low as I was this time last year ever again.

Ok, it’s been a long time since I posted anything of little consequence. With the brevity of my blog, you’d think I have no fun! (Please, no snickers in the background)

- Today my parents dragged me clothes shopping. I ended up buying bakeware. And not only that, you know Portmans has truly become untrendy when your mother is buying it! My mum was like “Look! Buy stuff! It’s cheap!” and I was like “It’s cheap for a reason mum.”

- I have started to bake in earnest again. Inspired because I’m going to go a-courting. However my intended recipient was too busy to meet me! (He didn’t know about the cupcakes.) I’m going for round two next time. He probably thinks that I want to give something on a police related matter. Hence his last email was very terse, and signed with his Sig. It made me cringe.

- Blinky is wearing his Disneyland t-shirt.

- I’m posting a link to you tube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YgOdZnKMJ8s And yes, I’m a closet country music fan.

- I feel sad that I’m so stereotypically Asian. I love karaoke, anime and RPGs. (hint, RPG does not stand for Rocket Propelled Grenade)

- I ordered a corset from Gallery Serpentine. It is blue.

- In related news, I bought a pleatmaker.

- I twiddled my thumbs for the entirety of Thursday work day which culminated in a nap underneath my desk.

- I’m going camping with my beloved Thieu Nhi kids this weekend.

- I’m experimenting with cupcakes with less butter than normal. I know, it’s heretical. This is because my mother bought copha instead of butter.

- I’m organising a slumber party with my girlfriend from high school and my girlfriend from primary school. It will involve makeovers and popcorn.

- In conclusion, I haven’t used the phrase ‘in conclusion’ much in the past months that I feel like I’m losing my touch

- I will twitter about blogging.

A lot of people told me that now was the perfect time to “reinvent” myself. I didn’t realise what that kind of meant till now.

In some ways, I am grateful for this rather horrid experience. It cut myself back to a quivering mess and now I’m picking up the pieces and sorting it out.

I find it hilarious that I’m a lot more sane to figure out why I do the things I do and make an attempt to stop it.

My detox is progressing, and I’ve cut back a further 5mg of my dose bringing me down to just 25mg of Paroxetine. And man, do I feel it.

Though I am much more lucid now then when I first got onto 25mg, my sleeping and eating patterns have been absolutely shot to hell. Despite the fact that I go to work on a regular basis which improved my sleeping habits, I am royally screwed up with the inability to sleep between midnight and dawn. I’m barely eating in a way that encourages me to fall back to bad habits of starvation and feeling guilty for eating.

As a fairly logical person, I sometimes shake my head and think that I’m a complete moron for thinking like an anorexic. If my kids at Thieu Nhi pulled this stunt I’d talk them straight out of it. And as a logical person, I second guess whether or not I’m actually mentally ill because I have the ability to reason sensibily. And then I do something like stab myself with my tailor’s awl.

Sorting through the mess that is my life, I’m rather pleased with some of the things that have come out. Though I am still very insecure and rarely venture out,I’m happy to be hanging out my friends and take an easy but steady course with my life. I feel more like a teenager now than I did when I was growing up! Developing adult habits like learning how to stick to a beauty routine, really fine tuning my ‘look’, and tenatively reaching out to new relationships with almost an abashed shyness rather than a tornado. Learning about my values and feeling like I’m on the edge of something completely mindblowing.

I feel some inner workings of my brain have changed. I’m much less angry for a start. I don’t exert as much pressure on myself because I think about what I can handle before doing it. I feel like I’m a nicer person as a result from the experience because I’ve had to learn a degree of tolerance and patience to handle myself and situations that arose. And by surrounding myself with fantastic, sensitive and supportive people, I’m slowly reasserting the person I really want to be. And cutting out bad influences has been really important, so I can remember that I shouldn’t settle for anything less.

Recently having refurnished my bedroom, I’m making an effort to keep it tidy and as An remarked, it felt like the chapter of my childhood has closed. I took down the reminders of my exes, not because everyone said I should, but because I was ready to. Alex and I have finally managed to get along, and I value that a lot – and I’m going to keep our friendship alive, not be reminded of a time that was awkward and painful. I took down the poster Eric bought for me all those years ago and filed his photo away. I realised that the photo no longer reminded me of those happy times, but highlighted exactly how unhappy I was and how castigated I felt as a failure. Everytime I think of Eric, I am merely reminded of the harsh words when it ended and his behaviour since then hasn’t exactly redeemed them.

I am getting ready to face the future. I’m still uncertain but I feel better about taking those baby steps forward. As Blaikie pointed out to me, there may be no point in living, but until I have reached the limit of what I can experience, there is no point to death either.

I have finally received a diagnosis from my psychiatrist that seems sensible and explains a lot of things:

Borderline Personality Disorder.

Reading up on it, I find that I identify with many of the criterion.

However the treatment for it is a lot of therapy – he’s recommending me a program called “Dialectical Behaviour Therapy” - and no drugs.

Looking forward to a drug free existence, lately I have seemed to accumulate an overwhelming sense of fear, panic and anxiety. Ironically, (though it only consolidates the diagnosis), I feel like a complete failure due to my inability to get a grip. So I wonder what these drugs are actually doing?

Clearly it hasn’t made me any happier. My sleeping patterns are royally screwed up. Though it has tempered me somewhat, in some ways I feel very much the same as before now it has all settled down – just that my body and mind is more frail – so it has intensified my nerves. And with the really strong adverse reactions I get with these drugs, I have no idea about anything anymore. Once the sedative effect of the drugs are weaned off, will I be more or less neurotic?

I’m trying to be grown up. I want to get better. Though I have gotten a lot better at making smart decisions I am terrified.

But there is hope. Maybe.

I listen to Christian music. Songs of lament, songs of joy, songs of wonder – all to a self-sacrificing God.

I have abstained from attending church for the past two months. At first because I elected to work instead of making time for mass, and then to run away from the unbearable feeling of being trapped. Yet I still listen to the strains of songs of worship – seeing a painful beauty in the lyrics.

My psychiatrist is funny, he says things that makes me wonder whether or not he’s mocking me. Maybe I’m being sensitive. I’m just another face in his endless stream of patients and it’s all rote to him. He made this comment where it’s like my point of view is that I want to die is because my life is shit. Which is completely untrue. My life is great. But why I want to die is because I struggle to find meaning. Increasingly I see there is little of it.

I want to die because of life seems pointless. I used to be very Christian and now I see so little sense in it. Many Christian friends have tried to bolster me up by saying just because I no longer feel God doesn’t mean that he’s still not there for me. And now that I rely on rational thought to reason out the existence of God, I side closer and close to being a non-believer.

The notion of believing in God seems rather selfish to me. That there must of been a God that created ME. That loves and adore ME. That will take MY soul after death and give ME great happiness. I understand how that naive hope can be profound to someone who endures endless suffering, like starving children in Ethiopia. So that the suffering that we endure seems meaningful as we can hope to achieve limitless joy in the afterlife.

There are billions of people in this world – to think that our souls all converge to places with no boundaries is ludicrous as no such place can exist. As scientist continue to unravel the mysteries of the animal nature and that is sheer human arrogance that purports that animals have no feelings that matter. To define that the humans serve some greater purpose – in awe of this almighty God; I can not embrace that way of thinking anymore.

Talking to my psychologist, I am supposed to define my own sense of purpose. To take the good things of my life and shape it. That it is all perception and I can shape it. Find my place in society, fulfill my ambitions etc.

Humans are social creatures and the ultimate aim is to find our place in society. To tap into the infinite possibilities governed by our intellect and our creativity. And to be fair, I enjoy society. The company of my friends. The array of men I sleep with so I can pretend that physical intimacy can overrule my other senses, and the idea that I am at least of some use to someone.

The cacophony of music, lyrical poetry about searching for meaning against the screaming voices inside my head demanding that I end it all. Most times I am abivalent towards living. Doing my spring cleaning, I see that I own many beautiful things. I look at all these things I feel tired. They are merely just things and they do not fill the emptiness. I have many craft materials that I could create beautiful things – but again they are just things. In the end I sit alone in my room as waves of melancholy wash over me.

It’s bittersweet. Sometimes fear of living is fearing consequences of action, or not knowing what path to take. I’m willing to be held accountable. I even know which path I’m supposed to walk. I just hold no satisfaction in it. I linger in ennui hoping that the music will inspire me.

My life isn’t really that bad. But it doesn’t mean I have to live it does it? In a hundred years no one will remember me. And if there is no God, then there is really no reason to continue. And if indeed someone by fluke they do remember me, they won’t care about what I felt, I will simply be another statistic in the mortality table.

Gosh, I’m boring myself with my existential angst.

Life is looking up.

I am officially detoxing! I visited a new psychiatrist who told me the level of drugs I was on was way too high for someone who hasn’t been hospitalised and the first step would be to slowly get off what I’m on and then do a new psych assessment afterward. He assured me that 2010 would be a highly productive year for me. So baby steps, but finally in the right direction.

The fates were kind and despite that I had to wait nearly 2 months for this appointment, my sister was coincidentally in Australia for the week. She attended the appointment with me and was a terrific support. We had a terrific time together catching up and talking family gossip. She told my parents about the plan the doctor had worked out and it was great to lean on her. Sometimes it’s hard taking the mantle of the eldest. When she’s gone I always have to take the lead, the responsibility and acquiesce to my parents demands.

The detoxing process is going to be slow. It’ll take about 3 months to get off the drugs completely. 1 month in I’m now completely  off Lithium but it leaves me exhausted. I sleep minimum 10 hours a day. My parents however see my tiredness and my complete lack of will to contradict them as great. They are treating me like I’m 9 years old again. Dad tousles my hair and says everything is going to be alright, Mum practically tucks me into bed and kisses me every now and then.

This experience with depression and anti-depressants has been horrible. However, it has been incredibly valuable. I saw my sister beyond the bossy bitch and saw her as someone who really understood me and knew how to take care of me. I saw the deep abiding love my parents have for me and how my pain is their pain. Also I’m learning what is truly important to me.

But the price has been bittersweet. Usually I’m one of the most productive people I know. Being forced to slow down to a halt has made me feel somewhat useless. The loss of my creativity has been incredibly painful. However when one door closes, another opens.

I’ve learned the value of co-dependence and how there is nothing to be ashamed of it. I guess maybe it’s in the nature of the social group that I spend time with, but there is this push to be self reliant and independent. Some have said to me that moving out would be really beneficially to see whether or not I can run a household and learning things like that before I get married or move in with someone. But due to the nature of the domestic jobs I’ve taken in my checkered career, I know I can do it. Whilst I value the time I have to myself and require a certain amount of alone time, I do not need to test myself to prove my confidence in myself.

Part of this detoxification I’ve been doing emotional detox – analyzing decisions I need to make and make sure they have the possible outcome. For example, what do I really need to prove to myself. The friends that I need to keep. What I’m willing to compromise.

Right now I feel really good and proud with the effort I’m putting in. It’s not to say it has all been roses. I’m so lucky I have a boss who lets me nap underneath my desk at work, parents who love me and support me even if they don’t totally get it and really fantastic friends.

A long time ago, I though I was just an ordinary girl. Now I know it, pursuing my ordinary dreams. And that feels great because I don’t have to be anyone else.