Just checking in tonight to let you all know I’m doing pretty well. The new meds are working wonders, and I can see without the veil of crazy now. The world looks different. The sounds inside my head are different. It’s much, much quieter, clearer. There’s still some remnant buzzing, but I feel like I’m solidly and singularly inhabiting my mind now, and it’s such a relief.

Someone was talking in the comments about spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle, whom I adore, and his feelings on psychiatric meds — namely, that they keep us from breaking ourselves down to the point where we can access nirvana. I assume Eckhart’s right about that one; he’d know better than I. Maybe I was one day away from accessing nirvana. Maybe I was one day away from offing myself. I can’t be sure. What I know for sure is that I feel 100 percent better right now, and I don’t much care how that happened.

Tolle says something else, I think in A New Earth, but possibly in Power of Now. He asks, “How do I know that I’m having the correct experience right now?” And his answer is “Because it is the experience you are having right now.”

I’m paraphrasing, probably poorly, but the message — one I embrace — is that you are always exactly where you are supposed to be, feeling and doing exactly as God intended. If it’s God’s will for me to achieve nirvana (or whatever you choose to call it), then I will, and it’ll be on His terms and on His timeline. If it’s God’s will for me to find or at least seek relief through psychiatric medicine for the rest of my life, then that’s what will happen.

Does that mean I don’t believe in free will? I think it might. It’s a question I’ve asked myself time and time again. Have I managed to embrace some maimed Calvinesque concept of predestination? I think I have, and it doesn’t bother the 26-year-old me nearly as much as it would have bothered an angsty teenage me. It certainly doesn’t mean I never falter or fear, but it’s easier this way. I never second-guess anything. I move through the world with the assumption that everything is as it should be, and that all decisions have been made correctly, because they are the decisions that were made. What I know — what I see around me every day, in my life and in the lives of those around me — is God’s grace working small miracles, tinkering and toddering with this and that, funneling us all quietly into exactly the experience we are supposed to be having right now. For that, I am grateful.

Ya know, my prescriptions today? Cost $350. Now, I’ll get a big chunk of that back once I get up the energy to deal with my insurance company and ask them to help with out-of-network prescriptions, and I’m very lucky both to have insurance and to be able to afford that cost up-front while I wait for insurance to pay. But soooo many people in this country are NOT in the same situation. They couldn’t possibly pay that much for prescriptions. And I’m feeling soooo much better already now that the right meds are in my system and are starting to work. “Thank you, Lord,” said my mother. And it’s true. Thank you, Lord, that I have the right meds and that I can pay for them.

I don’t understand how anyone could not support universal health care in this country. How can it be less of an economic strain to have millions of people running around with untreated illnesses? How could anything be more important than a healthy populace?

I just got back from an appointment with my Arizona psychiatrist, who is AWESOME. I’ve been to her in the past, and I just love her. She knows exactly what I’m going through. She doesn’t ask stupid questions or make stupid suggestions or ho-hum around like she doesn’t know what to say. She’s just like, “Here is what’s going on with your brain and with your body. Here is what you need to take. Here is how often you need to take it. Here are your prescriptions. Now go to the pharmacy.” The whole thing took fifteen minutes.

It was just so nice to get an explanation that made sense to me, and get some med suggestions that made sense to me, and she wrote me a prescription to take the edge off of the intense anxiety. But she didn’t roll her eyes when I was like, “I’m concerned about getting addicted to the anti-anxiety meds.” So many doctors don’t seem to care about that shit. They’re just like, “Whatever, just don’t be dumb about it.” Hello?? No one gets addicted to these things on purpose. But this doctor was like, “I totally understand, and I’m only going to write you a small amount, and you’ll have very specific dosing times, and it’s just enough to get you through this tough period. No more no less.”

I am feeling SO much better about everything right now. A good doctor makes all the difference. It’s, like, a lot of people have M.D.s, but some of them are just so stupid about medicine and especially about people. It just makes everything 100 times better to talk to someone who is listening to what you’re saying and knows how to help. Phew.

was awfully crazy /
i wish we taped it /
i danced my butt off /
and had this one girl /
completely naked /
drink my beer and smoke my weed /
but my good friends is all i need /
pass out at 3 /
wake up at 10 /
go out to eat /
then do it again /
man i love college”

Asher Roth, “I Love College”

Today started rough. Really rough. Once again, I didn’t sleep well. I just woke up feeling like ass, with all the buzzing and the fear back, and I was like, “Oh, shit.” My dad had worked the night shift before, so he was still sleeping, and I just had all this anxiety inside me about the things that had to get done today. You know, horrible things, like going to shopping and lunch with my mother. This is obviously not something horrible, but I just have such anxiety around it. I had told my friend D I’d be at her place around 3 to visit her, because she’s on bed rest with her pregnancy right now, and I was just like “How am I going to get all this done AND go to see D AND not disappoint anybody?”

It worked out fine, of course. My mother and I ate lunch at a restaurant called Press, in a new upscale shopping development called City North that doesn’t quite look like it’s gonna make it right now. The food was unimpressive at best, but we did see a group of older women sitting a couple tables across from us. “Do you know who that is?” asked my mom. I told her I didn’t. “That’s a group of your old retired teachers from elementary school. Look, there’s Mrs. F and there’s Mrs. C and there’s Mrs. P…” and, sure enough, all my old teachers were having lunch right across from us. I would have gone up to say hi, but I looked crazy.

I always know when I look crazy. There’s a haze over my eyes, an emptiness there. I can see it myself when I look in the mirror. Other people can too. I went to buy some more clothes later on in the day, and as I was chatting with the sales girl I took off my glasses, and her reaction to me changed. It’s something that’s been happening since I was in my early teens. When the crazy is in full force, people can see it in me, even if I’m wearing makeup and a nice dress. I don’t think they know what’s wrong, but they know that something is. I’m off-putting.

After lunch and shopping, I headed off to D’s house. She’s 26 1/2 weeks into her pregnancy and, God willing, she’ll be on full bed rest for another two months or so. They’re hoping to keep the baby in there until 34 weeks, or, ideally, even 36. It’s her second high-risk pregnancy, and her second time on bed rest. Her first baby was born at 29 weeks, and it was very terrifying for awhile there, but today he’s a totally normal 2-year-old. He looks like the other kids and plays like the other kids. It’s such a miracle. It gave us the opportunity to talk a lot about surrender and acceptance. I realized that these are concepts that apply to all battles. What D’s going through is something I don’t know that I’d survive, but she got through it the first time and she’s prepared to do it again, and it’s just forced her to let go of control and be grateful for all the people in her life who are helping her right now. We talked a lot about spirituality and about how to endure these battles with grace. I didn’t feel crazy at all while I was talking to her.

Then I left and, per usual, the crazy came back almost immediately. It was really bad, and I was shaking, and didn’t really know what to do. I drove back to my dad’s house and sat in the shower, which is usually a safe place for me, then packed up my stuff and headed up to my mom’s for the night. We ordered pizzas and I made her watch Toddlers & Tiaras with me, and, really, my mother’s need to pass judgment on everything within a five-mile radius is normally really annoying to be, but, tonight, it was glorious. We squeaked and squealed and rolled our eyes together at the obnoxious mothers forcing their small children into parents. Mom had a comment for everything. It was awesome. Great bonding experience.

Meds seem to be working tonight because I’m starting to fall asleep. They’re working in that weird way where I have trouble with visual processing and tend to run into walls and trip over things. One time when I was in the hospital they hooked my brain up to all this equipment and started asking me silly questions, and asking me to identify lights and sounds, etc, etc. They were trying to see if they could pinpoint where my brain was malfunctioning. When the results came back, the only thing that was even marginally abnormal was my visual processing. They said I processed visual input about half a second slower than average. Like, the light gets to me right away, but it takes my brain extra time to process it.

“That’s bullshit,” my dad said at the time. “I’ve known you your whole life. You process visual input just fine.”

But it occurred to me tonight that, when they tested me, I was on a shitload of meds. And sometimes these meds do screw up my visual processing ability, and I notice because I trip over nothing and fall into walls. So probably what they were measuring was just the effect of the meds and not my actual brain.

Science is so stupid.

Tomorrow I meet with not one but two doctors to discuss my “condition.” Per usual, I have unreasonable expectations about what they can do to fix me, and will probably be very disappointed when I leave. Fingers crossed!

I actually felt like myself for a few hours today!!! It was such a rush of joy and relief. At nighttime, the evil monster came back again, but he’s getting weaker and weaker by the day, I can feel it. He just kind of buzzed and jerked around my head and my chest, like a bee in a jar, trapped and running low on oxygen.

I didn’t sleep well last night, AGAIN. Weird, weird dreams, AGAIN. My father mentioned I should switch to the long-release Ambien, and a commenter said the same thing, so I am definitely going to be talking to a doctor about that. But the great news is that my dad was able to help me make some phone calls and get 10 days of my BPD prescriptions transferred to a local Walgreens, so now I have ALL the meds I’m supposed to be on. That alone has made a huge difference. I noticed people in the comments section discussing the importance of people with these illnesses taking their meds. The truth is, plenty of people with illnesses that don’t center in their mind still fail to take their meds regularly. And add mental illness on top of that, and it’s just a fucking miracle if I stay on the ball for even a week. I get so upset with the way they make me feel sometimes. I just want them GONE. I always remember, vaguely, that there was a problem the last time I went off of them, but I decide it’ll be okay this time. It’s the textbook definition of insanity, folks: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. It’s how I roll. (I do, however, have permission from my doctor to take one, one and a half or two doses of the anti-depressants, depending on how I feel. So that’s legit, and I’m normally very very good about staying on those.)

This afternoon, my father insisted I hike up Camelback Mountain with him. It was around 1 pm and eighty degrees with a bright blue cloudless sky. I used to hike up Camelback all the time with my father when I was a child. I have no memories of it being a problem. We even made it all the way to the top a few times. But now I am 100 years older, and that hike is BRUTAL. It is steep and twisty and rocky and did I mention steep? We took Leo along, and he had the time of his life. He was just soooo annoyed that we made him go so slow. “That’s how you were on this trail when you were seven,” my dad commented. Hmph. What a nuisance I must have been, scampering along at a breakneck pace with my brand new lungs and heart and legs and glutes and my low center of gravity. This time, the walk up was awful; it hurt so bad and I complained so much, but at least I wasn’t depressed. I was focused on how to place my feet on the rocks in a manner that wouldn’t result in me tumbling down the side of the mountain through the beautiful wildflowers, which were my dad’s whole excuse for dragging me up here. But the views of the city from the mountain were spectacular, just clear blue sky and mountain ranges interrupted occasionally by tennis courts and city streets and a huge casino they’re building on the reservation.

The walk down was much easier physically, but much trickier mentally. You have to be so, so careful to place your feet just right so you don’t slip or twist an ankle. Since the physical pressure is off, you just focus on the puzzle of your feet the whole way down, and it becomes incredibly meditative. You don’t have time to think much deeply about anything else. This rock-foot puzzle consumes all your mental capacities. It’s a beautiful release, and one I welcomed.

The other thing I noticed was the tons of gorgeous healthy young people with natural tans and natural abs making their way up and down the mountain like it’s something they do every day (it probably is). But I saw them doing it and I wanted it, ya know? I want to be one of those healthy sun-kissed people who finds the drive within themselves to get up and hike Camelback as a part of their daily routine. I don’t think I’ll go again tomorrow, but I want to do it at least once again before I leave. I enjoy it when there is an actual action I can take that can help me get better. When I was younger, I ran from those actions. Today I cling to them.

Because after the hike, I felt great. I felt like that girl named Sasha that I’d known just a couple weeks ago. It was Sasha again! Sasha was back, living in my body, speaking without the static of the evil monster. It was so wonderful. I’d missed her. She rocks, and it’s always cool when she’s living in here alone.

Then I got to spend some quality time with my friend Emily, who’s lived through a lot of this shit and worse in her own life, and she had so many wise things to say. It felt great to just be honest with another person and hear her reactions. The stuff that seems so awful in my mind is just like, “Yeah, so?” to her. “That’s the disease, that’s all it is.” Shoulder-shrug.

Finally, I met up with my amazing friend Rebecca for dinner at a new restaurant in town called J. Alexander’s. I picked the place, and I have to admit I picked it because the name is the same as that ANTM judge, but it was actually a fantastic restaurant. Great food, great service, great ambiance. Highly recommended. Becca gave me a hug and asked me why I was back in town. “Eh,” I said, “crazy breakdown. You know the drill.” And she just laughed and said, “Oh, yeah, those are my favorites!” I love that my friends don’t judge. We just had the most amazing time at dinner. We laughed through the whole thing, to the point that I think we were annoying the table next to us with our laser-sharp mirth. So that was awesome.

As I walked back to my car from dinner, I noticed that the crazy was creeping back in. It was dark outside, I had no more plans for the night, and, I dunno, I just started falling apart a little bit. But then I came home, cuddled with my dog, took my meds, did some work, and now I’m just about ready to drift off to sleep. I doubt I’ll be posting much on EB tomorrow, because these meds’ll kick my ass and I’ll sleep until one in the afternoon, but that’s fine for the time being. I can handle that right now.

We’re at that moment where I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. If I keep taking the actions I’ve been taking — staying physical, staying honest, staying busy with friends and family, and keeping in close contact with God through prayer and meditation — I will come out of this on top, probably in the next few days, too! Oh oh! I’m so excited for when I get to be Sasha again!!! She’s totally my favorite person to have in my head!!