Although my brother finally more or less accepted that his girlfriend needed to work this summer, when she took a trip elsewhere just for fun, he freaked out because she was having a good time instead of being with him while he was miserable. He stole my parents’ car a few weeks ago so he could drive across the country to her, but came back after driving for two hours when he realized that this plan was not actually going to work. He said his mind wouldn’t stop racing, but none of the people who were supposed to be treating him considered that it might be related to the fact that he had just started taking two different antidepressants and had gone nearly three weeks without follow-up treatment. A few days after that, he wound up in the hospital for the second time. He “escaped” once (he was on an unlocked ward, so it’s not like it was hard to escape) and the police brought him back, but he’s been out again for a while now. He was on Seroquel for a while in the hospital, but even the doctors admit it probably made him worse, and took him off it.

His ex-girlfriend, if that’s what she is, has cut off some forms of communication with him, but they’re still emailing each other, and every time he gets an email from her, he gets upset. A few days ago he smashed the glass door of a cabinet. I know this girl has problems with depression, but she’s always seemed much more stable than my brother throughout their relationship, even though they’ve always fought a lot. Now, though, she’s seeming nearly as unstable as he is. She keeps telling him that she loves him but can’t be with him, and mixed messages are the last thing he needs right now. He’d prefer if she were supportive, of course, but I think he could even handle a breakup better than he can handle what’s going on right now. Not that I’m saying this is her fault — I know he’s not easy to deal with, but she’s really making things worse, even though she’s not doing it on purpose. Apparently she has also been sending weird emails to my parents.

Previously, my brother had planned to attend a day programme soon. Now he says he doesn’t want to bother trying to get better unless his ex(?)-girlfriend is supportive of him. That’s just him being completely pigheaded. His shrink, though, did say that nobody can help him “until he gets over that girl.” Um, his main problem is that he doesn’t know how to get over “that girl,” and if he knew how to do that on his own, he probably wouldn’t need a shrink.

Today is the sixth anniversary of the second time I was raped, but I’m dealing with it pretty well. Actually, I’m doing great today, but apparently this is because I got it all out of my system last weekend. My boyfriend and I were drinking with friends, and I didn’t think I was all that drunk then; I felt fine until I got home. I remember throwing up, but I don’t remember anything after that. My boyfriend told me that I was afraid of the Bad People (hey, I need the euphemism, ’cause it’s awfully long and clunky to keep referring to them as “the people who raped me”), crying and saying that I had to keep my eyes closed because if I opened them, I would see the Bad People. He of course told me that there were no Bad People around, that I was safe, but I guess it took a long time for me to believe him.

I’m glad I have no memory of all of this, but I wish I hadn’t put him through it. I’m glad this weekend is better.

Apart from that, I’m fine lately, but I’m working extra hours for a few weeks, and I have almost no time to fit anything but work into my schedule. My brother, although out of the hospital, is not doing very well, but it’s going to take more time than I currently have to go into detail about that. I’m hoping I’ll have enough free time on Tuesday to manage to blog. I sure as hell won’t have any time tomorrow.

Apparently I was wrong when I said that my brother was staying out of the hospital. He was actually back in there at the time, just my parents hadn’t told me yet. He’s still there. It is not going very well. He says some of the nurses are mean. And there’s not anything I can do to help; I can’t even visit because I’m way too far away. I don’t really want to write about it any more right now. I did have a good weekend, by the way.

I’ll be out of town for a few days, so I won’t be posting until sometime next week. I’m fine. My brother’s doing less fine, but is at least staying out of the hospital. That’s good, right?

I really need a mini-vacation. Yay.

I don’t even know why I tried this again so soon, as I wasn’t expecting it to have changed already, but it has. My blog has moved from an R rating to an NC-17 rating. For completely ridiculous reasons, I might add.

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

* hell (7x)
* kill (4x)
* rape (3x)
* ass (2x)
* hurt (1x)

I have no idea why it is no longer keeping track of the amount of times I’ve used the word “drugs,” since that’s the one word from before that I remember using a bunch more times since then.

In news of things that are not fast, my brother was released from the hospital five or six days ago but no one has yet contacted him regarding follow-up treatment, although of course they were supposed to. I have no idea why this surprises me. It really shouldn’t, at this point.

Stumbling back, blinking confusedly and wondering what happened to the past week.

My brother was released from the hospital after nine days there. My mom says he is doing okay, but she worries about him all the time. She is worried about what he’ll do the next time he and his girlfriend have a fight. They’re always fighting. He told her that if she took that job this summer, he’d kill himself. She took the job, he didn’t kill himself or try to kill himself, but he did have to spend nine days in the hospital.

I’m a bit hypomanic. Nothing extreme, mainly I’m kind of hypersexual and I’m also feeling like it’s stupid to be taking my medication. Usually, if I’m not taking my medication properly or if I stop taking it altogether, it really is because of the side effects. I am not the stereotypical “she stopped taking her pills because she thought she didn’t need them anymore” manic-depressive. (Almost nobody is, by the way. People just think that we are because they don’t actually believe us when we tell them how bad the side effects are.)

But I am that stereotype right now. Or at least I would be if I actually stopped taking my pills, which I have not. I want to, though. I feel so good right now. How could there possibly be anything wrong with me? Why would I possibly need drugs?

Twice in the past, I went off all of my meds without telling my doctor. I didn’t think that I wasn’t manic-depressive; I just thought I could handle it better without the drugs. Both times, I felt fine for a little while. Both times, things changed. The first time was a bit more gradual. It started out as mild paranoia, then moved to severe paranoia and delusions, and then added auditory hallucinations. Now, that was a fun six months. The second time was much more sudden. A case of severe insomnia turned overnight into serious suicidality and helped set off a chain of hospitalizations. All of that funstuff is why I decided that although I would try taking lower dosages of medication, and although I would stop taking Dope-a-max and atypical antipsychotics, I probably shouldn’t take no medication at all.

Right now, though, I feel like I’m talking about someone else. I have a hard time believing that I was ever ill. It feels like it was all a dream. I am fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. Why would I need pills?