After Latuda everyday for over a month I had Olanzapine last night because I found myself being very angry, upset and unable to sleep.
I do however have a right to be upset and have shared my latest situation with a few friends who agree.
This blog is not funny, but a hell of a yarn.
Honestly you can’t make this stuff up and I haven’t this time. Although all my stuff has some kernel of truth.
I’m in the fog today but slept for twelve hours and don’t feel angry or like drinking.
Olanzapine also makes me feel like I have had a cone for most of the next day.
In recent days I had experienced a sudden urge to sort everything out, and considered moving to Port Augusta in order to be closer to my son.
During the Port Augusta contemplation a friend messaged me saying “Don’t make snap decisions on no sleep Ladybug” and I think that’s good advice.
So I have had a good sleep and am writing all the feelings out.
She’s the first person that introduced me to Janice Joplin so her nickname is JJ.
Latuda has me more clear headed and alert but it does prevent me from sleeping for more than five and a half hours a night.
This means that if I go to bed too early I’ll bounce out of bed at 3 am.
I’ve been going to bed too early because nights are lonely.
I live alone for the first time since 2001, but at least then I was quite young, worked full time, had a nightly call with my boyfriend and lived near the pub.
My most recent previous evening routine for a decade involved spending several hours putting my son to bed.
The process relaxed me for bed too.
Many a night my son fell asleep in my arms surrounded by plush toys and expensive fluffy blankets.
I’m also still getting used to my new environment so if I don’t catch the 9 pm sleep wave I can get a bit of anxiety and end up feeling sad and alone.
I also don’t have sexy Avengers on hand to help me relax before bed.
There was never a team of handsome mixed, race, age appropriate men on hand to assist me fulfil my desires.
It was a comedic premise based on an outrageous fantasy and I stated as such before I went on stage with that story and wrote in my blog.
Female comedian Ali Wong who is the first person I saw telling jokes about being attracted to these superheroes.
I’m annoyed that I feel like I need to explain this but one person who kind of fits the premise could be described as a my Black Panther.
I already told my ex that I think of him as Tony Stark.
Black Panther and I had been messaging for about a month before we hooked up.
He’s a qualified medical professional, father, likes science fiction and fantasy novels, we have similar political views and he knows what it’s like to grow up poor.
He’s been in my blogs and comedy routines.
I messaged him saying “I warned you that I was a writer” and shared a few things that he had inspired.
I told him that although I joke about sex with a stranger helping to heal a broken heart and that he represented a fantasy fulfilled I know that he is a person, that there is more to him than being a hot black guy.
As much as there is more to me than being a pretty, skinny, blonde girl who at certain times when unwell fucks like a porn star.
He’s experienced me in both states and the non-porn like version was actually better.
I’ve even sent him stuff that I wrote that didn’t include him because I respect his intelligence and want him to know exactly how much more there is to me.
In relation to fantasies my ex had me watching a bit of porn and black guy fucks snow bunny is a genre that we had frequently ingested.
A snow bunny is a girl with very pale skin. A girl wearing glasses while having sex is bookish.
I hate that I know this stuff. It’s been such a relief to go vanilla and not be made to feel like a prude.
In fact to be called sexy, amazing and that it was great to be with a woman who appeared to really enjoy sex.
In relation to the fantasy I’ve thought about this a little more and do now in fact recall having a black guy fantasy that goes back to 1998.
I wanted to hook up with a black guy of African heritage who had braids and an English accent.
In fact when me and the ex were still together back in February we headed to the Palace and I had a pretty intense attraction to an English black girl of African descent who had a cheeky sense of humor and the perfect, full English accent.
She even said her name was London. It’s never their real name but I allowed myself to believe it for the night.
Black Panther doesn’t have the specific English accent that I had in mind but on our first night together I asked him if he wanted me to leave and he said “No because I want to shag you again.”
Shag is an English word and Nigeria only gained it’s independence from British rule within a Baby Booomer’s life time so close enough.
So him and the Italian, a couple of nights at different times over the past four months does not appear to me to be at all over the top.
Maybe some people who don’t understand creative writing and the fact that I have exaggerated things.
Maybe some people find my overtly open discussion about getting out of an abusive relationship and enjoying sex again to be offensive.
Are there people out there who truly believe that I have a team of sexy Avengers?
If they do they must have a low level of intelligence.
Although my mother is a well read person with decades of experience in performance with a teaching degree and my ex is a songwriter who’s previously expressed to me that he gets annoyed when people take his lyrics as seriously as a legally binding court document.
I’ve stated in one of my previous blogs that my ex encouraged me to get back on the sedative antipsychotic because I was getting angry.
I was only getting angry at him and there were plenty of people in my life who noticed me being more alert and assertive who didn’t have a problem with the new me.
Back on Latuda for over a month on the advice of a different friend who has gone on to message me every day to check if I have been taking it and the medicine has fully kicked in.
So I am clear minded and getting angry again.
This time I am angry at mum.
I wrote her several well thought out pages that logically set out what I was upset about.
Like my ex she told me to take my meds and go see my psychiatrist.
And the only fact that she was able to dispute was that I said we lived in a tent in the commune and it was a different type of accommodation.
I am taking my meds every day.
When my ex best friend punched me in the face three times, my other friend suggested that I go stay in the psych ward, the Italian refused to sleep with me anymore and I woke up next to a guy in his 50’s who I would not choose to connect with when stone cold sober and completely sane all within a couple of days it was the perfect storm that pushed me to get back on track.
And the guy over 50 isn’t recorded in the earlier experiences because if a mentally ill person can commit a crime and be found not guilty on the grounds that their mental state at the time was such that he could not be held responsible I would like a pass for this one please.
I do not want to be held responsible for giving this old guy his best night of 2024 and a magical moment memory burn and a fun story to tell his mates lol.
I had been drinking both nights that I hooked up with Black Panther but I was sober when I sent the nudes, not manic on the second night that we were together and I would have hooked up with the Italian yesterday and both of us were sober Bob.
But yeah, back on the meds. An anti psychotic that’s not a complete sedative.
Evidence of my emergence from over the top mania is a complete lack of impulsive stupid purchases recently.
I’ve also not had sex for over a month which would be fucking impossible if not completely medicated.
Yesterday I found out that my mum sent an email to my lawyer and me that accused me of acting in a premiscuous manner. She also said that I won’t regain custody of my son.
– Near the end of the last century and a little bit beyond was the last time that I lived in Adelaide.
– I remember clearly the circumstances leading up to this last move.
– I was 18.
– I had undiagnosed schitzoaffective disorder resulting in highs – which everyone loves and days where I couldn’t stop bursting into tears which I had been keeping much more hidden.
– I had also learned to calm myself down with a cone or two, but unlike the appropriate anti-psychotic medication which had me experiencing ‘baby good and bad moods’ marijuana was for me completely addictive, expensive and ended up causing more problems than it temporarily solved.
– As I say at eighteen I was feeling like I wasn’t a child anymore and had lived my life in complete absence of my father.
– Over the years I was never given an explanation about who my father was and why he wasn’t in my life.
– I am highly empathic and could sense that even asking this question would have upset my mum.
– I do however recall being about 5 years old and bringing it up.
– Mums response was to point out all the families that we knew who didn’t have a dad.
– Which as our community was based around her being in a Housing Trust Maisonette on the East Side of Port Augusta there were dead beat dad’s aplenty.
– Housing Trust means public housing.
– The East Side of Port Augusta is the wrong side of the tracks. There’s literally a railway line. That’s a saying for a reason.
– I found the reassurances that we were still a family without a father / husband / de facto in the house and that there were plenty of other families in our circle living with similar circumstances helpful at the time.
– However she went on to record cassette tapes that she would play to me while I was asleep instructing me not to ask or think about my father again.
– I remember finding and playing a tape and also discovering a diary entry of hers admitting to doing this year’s later.
– During my teenage years I had a feeling that there was a question that needed to be answered, in the back of my mind that I couldn’t quite reach and that when I was drinking discovering what this unidentified sadness was about was getting closer.
– I drank on most weekends from the age of 15 onwards and at 17 got drunk enough to unlock my subconscious mind and realise that I wanted to know who my father was, have some kind if contact with him and that his absence had been the reason for my base level of sadness and unwillingness to grow up.
– He was around when I was quite young – before the age of 3 and I remember walking with him somewhere across a railway crossing during that time.
– I had recently found out about who my father was and the fact that I had had been denied access to some older siblings that had been living literally ten minutes drive away from the residence where I spent my school holidays for my whole life.
– These are children that he’d had before me with his wife. I was especially sad to have met my older half sister who I had a lovely connection with because as an only child on the spectrum, no good at sports who was severely bullied and ostracized in primary school I had spent many a night crying myself to sleep wishing that I had a big sister.tomlook out for me..
– When I got a bit older I seemed to unconconciosly make female friends who had an impulse to want to look after me and had a big sister vibe.
who had been living in Adelaide all this time, that my father has a dangerous and severe form of schitophrenia and that under the effects of an psychotic episode had murdered my grandfather (his dad) in front of my grandmother (his fathers wife) with an axe.
– I had also found out what they had been arguing about.
– The murderous argument (although I might need to point out here that he was never convicted because it was found that his mental state at the time was such that he could not be held responsible) was centred around his having ‘Drunk the Kool Aid’ of the Meher Baba cult and my grandfathers refusal to join.
-When grandpa refused to pledge allegiance to (Simpsons reference ahead) *sing to the tune of Batman* “Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, leader” he was murdered in front ot grandma with an axe.
–
– I might need to point out here that I am completely unaware of any mass suicide plans associated with Meher Baba but I will say based on personal experience in relation to my mother attempting to indicate me into this sect there was an awful lot of ‘love bombing’ going on.
####*Ironically I think that the one person who might understand all this is my ex. He’s a songwriter and has expressed frustration that people would take his lyrics as literally as a legally binding affidavit.
*And I am still writing, it just takes a little more time and effort. I don’t feel as if the words are flowing through my fingers like a dream.
*So it would be with sex. I’d need some time and foreplay. It’s not as easy as turning on a light (the switch is my clit) to reach an fucking crazy, intense climax.
 | ReplyForwardAdd reaction |