The ones that can prescribe medication. My PCP looked at me strange when I said she had to prescribe me medications because of my therapist. She didn’t like that therapist. So, she advised me to move on. She didn’t like the way things were run at another psychologist. Talking helps but I’m a special case. The cool thing about my PCP is that she cares. She’s like a nagging mother. I adore her. Before I didn’t. But that’s because she’s normally right. Me and my stubborn pride.

If you don’t know, I’m currently unmedicated. That isn’t a good thing. My PCP caught onto my Bipolar in an instant. She’s like “I can tell you’re manic.” My mind was racing and it isn’t a good thing. You have that “grandiose” thinking. Mix that with BPD and it’s entertaining.

Bipolar: We’re the greatest writer in the world!

BPD: No, you’re not. You fucking suck! They’re going to hate you again. Ha ha ha!

Anxiety: STFU, both of you! I think I need to throw up again! Did we lock the door?

Bipolar: BPD, you STFU. Not everyone is on the rag, like you are. You hateful fucker. It’s time to shine, bitches! Star, star, star.

Anxiety: Do we have to go outside? There are people there! Can we stay home? A good cup of hot cocoa and pajamas.

BPD: Anxiety, you’re such a pussy.

Bipolar: BPD, you should talk! You’re a bitch. Step out of the black clothing. You looking a tad bit ugly. Might want to dye your hair, while you’re at it.

BPD: Fuck you! Your pastels are blinding us! STFU, Bipolar!

Me: All of you STFU! I’ll make the psychologist prescribe something to shut all of you up.

BPD: Good luck with that. I’m immune. You’ll just become another mindless zombie.

Bipolar: No! You need us! We’re entertaining! We won’t get in your way. Admit it… you love us! A thousand thoughts and we can fix your plots. SUPERSTAR!

BPD: At least gag Bipolar. That bitch drives me crazy! Did she read the statistics? New writers fail miserably. Oh and your lip is bleeding.

Anxiety: I can’t stop biting my lips! I must chew my lips off!

BPD: They will think you got some disease or something. You need to quit. At least use a damn knife. We can conceal that shit, better than the damn lip. Way to go, Anxiety. How is she going to conceal that shit?

Anxiety: Oops! I’m sorry! I didn’t realize she was biting her lip until it bled.

BPD: You know, that’s a method of self-harm, right? You’re helping me out.

Bipolar: Let me get some concealer for that. I’ll make her beautiful again! Watch me, bitches! SUPERSTAR!

BPD: More like superbitch! Do they know how much of a bitch she can be? I’ll remind her. You all supersuck!

Anxiety: Does this mean we’re going back to the ER, when you try the new meds? We don’t do well with new meds. Remember the last time, when you thought you were having a heart attack? THAT turned out so… bad! Can we stay home? Make sure you double-check all the doors and the windows. No… check it again. Not good enough… check it again!

Me: Let me live! I can’t hide my books or myself forever! It isn’t normal! Let me live!

BPD: We’ll let you live. We just don’t think you need help. He’s probably some creepy perv. with a degree. He’ll give you a fucking rock and you’ll throw that stupid rock in the pond again. How is a rock going to make you feel better? Mark yourself with a fucking marker. What a joke! That does nothing for us! Ha ha! You’re wasting your time with another judgmental prick. You’ll be a zombie with drool hanging from your mouth. He’s going to get rich off your ass.

Bipolar: Smile! The cameras are on us! Superstar!

Anxiety: Medicines? BPD said medicines! We don’t do well on medication! That outta body experience sucked!

BPD & Bipolar: You’re telling us! We couldn’t get a damn orgasm for a month! We thrive off of sex! At least the hubby would be happy.

Me: Shut up! SHUT UP! I’m about to mute you three!

BPD: I’d like to see you try! I’m the oldest one and I’ll still be here. You think you’ve tamed me, but nah… I’m still here. I’ll feed you those seeds of doubt. I’ll remind you of what a pathetic loser you are. You’re no J.K. Rowling. You supersuck!

Me: I don’t want to be like J.K. Rowling. We are nothing alike! Let me write and let me live! I never said I was a great writer.

Bipolar: I did! You’re the best!

Anxiety & BPD: She really isn’t that good. They’ll come after her.

 

Those are my thoughts. They race around my head like an endless traffic jam. It would be nice to wake up and not have the traffic jam or the thoughts that race around my brain 24/7. I’m willing to be medicated. I have to stop the traffic jam before it drives me insane. I say that I have a handle over them, but there are some days, I feel like screaming. I wish I did have a normal brain. I wish I could do the things, a normal brain does. My biggest fear is losing my creativity. But in fact, it may help with my creativity. It would be nice to have a one-way street instead of a thousand interstates, going through my head. My books will one day be back on the market. I have to prepare myself for negative and positive feedback. I’m not going to make everyone happy and so, I won’t bother trying. But, I’m afraid I’ll throw up again, non-stop. That’s how bad my anxiety can be. It’s happened before and it does feel like a lit burner. I’ve been burned before and that doesn’t feel too good. I told her that the therapist recommended Effexor. My PCP says it does work well for anxiety, but it can make my Bipolar worse. It could even make BPD worse. She felt the need to prescribe a better psychologist. One, who I can see more regularly until I’m stabilized. I cried. Anxiety made me breakdown and cry. My PCP was like a shining angel. “We know you’re struggling. Let me help you. You’re not stable. I can see it in your eyes.”

I just want to live. They say you can survive without medications but I can’t. I tried and it doesn’t work for me. My biggest fear is receiving a negative review, and I’ll do something stupid, while unstable. I can’t do that. I don’t want to be like my former author friends. The ones who didn’t survive. That’s another fear. So, I try so hard not to be like them. I have alienated myself away from everyone and the world. That isn’t me. I want to fix the major chemical imbalances in my brain.To me, this isn’t normal. I should be able to handle negative criticisms. That’s hard for someone with Borderline. We’re so used to hearing negative criticisms that we are able to shut those people down. The only time, the guard dog hasn’t come out, was when my son criticized me. BPD does have triggers and it did hurt. I was able to hide it. If it were someone else, I would have been on a full meltdown. That isn’t how adults handle things. I did something that surprised me. I controlled my BPD meltdown. Now to control it against the world. That’s the nasty trick. Of course, there are assholes in all walks of life. Nobody is exempt from being an asshole. It’s how I handle those negative criticisms with grace and maturity. That’s my goal. To not take everything as a personal attack. And not be bothered by those personal attacks. I normally take those personal attacks and fall into deep depression. So severe that I’ll stay in bed for days. I’ll cry and have frequent meltdowns. Instead of feeling like I have just one person against me, I feel like I have that person and the entire world against me. Based off that one person. When there are other people, who love my books and my series. I don’t give those people enough credit. With BPD, I’m always searching for the negative things in life. I can never see the positive things. The never-ending pessimist. I’d like to shut her down and shut her up. I’m better than this. I can heal from this. I will heal from these mental health issues. I have hope. As long as that hopeful star shines bright, I can do this. I got this.

 

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