I feel I'm over you.

Closure

I've had two bilateral ECT treatments.

I've noticed a few differences, however slight.

I ruminate about MOrpheus less.

I feel as if I have as much closure as I will ever have.

[The attending doctor corrected me, and said that I've only had one bilateral ECT treatment.]

"God, if I have to stay here another week, I'm gonna die," my roommate in the hospital talking and crying to the department head.

I had my sixth ECT treatment on Monday. I'm still not responding.

EVery round seems to get harder and harder with the side effects.

Monday, I spend in bed with a headache and nausea. I didn't eat lunch or dinner.

Friday was my fifth ECT treatment.

I have not responded yet. This is more of a disappointment to me than to the doctors.

I haven't changed my clothes since Tuesday, and am exhausted plus still feeling the effects of battling a migraine. My irritability level has gone up.

The nurses decided to move my belongings today while I was away in group. I come back to find some of them in the hallway. This irked me to no end. People touching my stuff. MOving it around.

I'm on my fourth ECT with no sign of getting better. All I keep wondering is if I made a major mistake allowing them to experiment on me.

My Last Morning in Libya

my last morning in libya, and the sky is so blue i want to cry. i want to break off a piece and stir it in my tea. take it home and put it on my dresser. give it to my father and tell him, "here, some libyan sky. it misses you. it says come home soon."

--A beautiful controversy

Is Blogging Dying?

"Its been wayyy tooo long hasnt it :D, but everything here is so much the same, is js clik n i can scribble n then i js click again n u can read!! cool han :P"

With writing like that, what am I supposed to think? It looks like me, after I haven't slept for two weeks, completely psychotic, talking to all the voices.

Clicking the "Next Blog" button is a disappointing venture. I've browsed over a hundred blogs, and only found two readable.

"Mommy doesn’t know because she likes to sniff lots of sugar."

--On Santa's Lap (With Howie and Healy)

In my nightmares, I see Nora, the hallucination, sitting on the couch, her face partially hidden by her long, blonde hair, leaning towards a laptop--with the coke on the table.

"So, you have been spending a lot of time on the computer," the resident starts.

What are you going to do, spank me?

DAte or Hooker?

"Traditionally, I'd say the fourth date where you are rewarded with sober sex and a $200 credit card balance from treating that special someone to four three course meals at low-scale, nationally chained restaurants. (Outback: No Rules, Just right? Does that mean I don't have to pay?) For that kind of money, you're better off investing in a hooker and the Domino's 5-5-5 deal, each coming with its own special topping. And both are promised to be delivered in 30 minutes or less. Dating? No thanks. I've got low self-esteem, a bottle of vodka, and a phone book. I’m ready for marriage."

--Crossing the Line

"I recently started a Netflix account. Aside from owning a cat or having an account at a child pornography website, nothing quite says 'destined to die alone on the toilet' than renting movies by mail. Not only are you engaging in an activity that you can do sitting alone in your room, you’re also doing it by mail, taking away all interpersonal contact. But, my dick and hand needed some time-off from each other, so this is where we are. Accept it."

--Crossing the Line

"Something in my life needs to change. I have a dead end job, no productive hobbies, and seem to lack any ambition to do anything about it. This must be why people get married and have kids in the first place. They’ve already given up on their own lives so they might as well start over and live vicariously through their children who will inevitably repeat the cycle. Online dating is my first step in giving up on my dreams."

--Crossing the Line

"This online platform lets me be - I get to write my heart out."

--Swati's Diary

"Everything I had to give went to my children, and though I loved them and my husband utterly, the drudgery of the day-to-day made it seem as if not love but coffee, my Toyota and sheer logistics were what propelled me through life."

--A Small Lump Challenges

"All I need now is a stiff drink and some pretzels."

--Heather's Musings on LIfe

There's no amount of phone call's, TXT-message's, email's or FAcebook messaging that can penetrate the loneliness of the ward on the weekends when other patients have visitors.

The hardest part about ECT is setting the IV.

More on Nora, the Hallucination, Part III

"What makes you think you are the one who can be the odds?" Nora, the hallucination, would ask me. "What makes you think you are going to be the one who gets away?"

"Everyone has to believe that about themselves," I would respond.

I would pray for a miracle of God. d. Anything to stop Nora.

More on Nora, the Hallucination, Part II

Nora, the hallucination, had two weakness:

Coke and donuts. a.

The story is she works for the government as a contract killer (I know, that's believable, right?), and uses the cocaine to stay up all night to drive people into madness and self-destruction.

DAD loved to harass her about her bulimia--one spot that she any sensitivity about herself. Whenever he got really pissed off at her, he'd say, "Go eat another donut, Nora."

She purged every morning.

More on Nora, the Hallucination

I didn't know how to tell the staff that my boyfriend's wife was holding me hostage inside my brain.

"You seem kind of distracted," one of the doctors said.

Meal times were the worst. Nora claim she could make me stab myself with a fork or knife ("push" me to do it)--so I weighed that threat with the hunger I was feeling. Needless to say, most days I hardly ate. The staff noticed, and started bringing my meals to me in my room. My weight dropped to being officially underweight. I couldn't face the other patients, who might want to talk to me because all I could hear were the auditory hallucinations--Nora or DAD, who joined up later.

The Nora Delusion and Hallucination

Over time in the hospital at STanford, the Nora delusion and hallucination progressed. The grotesque nature of her threats grew worse and worse.

Finally, she threatened to kill MOrpheus, her own husband because he fell in love with me.

She wouldn't, she said, if I hung myself in the shower. She would spare his life. One for one.

I was fortunate that I noticed Nora changed her mind a lot--her threats becoming thin.

I got as far as the doorway with my towels to make a noose. I stopped myself when I realized maybe she was bluffing about harming her partner--maybe it all wasn't real--maybe I wasn't willing to give my life for his. Doubt in this delusion saved my life.

All about ECT

The ECT is held in "recovery room" which looks more like warehouse building with beds lining the walls.

ONly one side is used for ECT, the rest for recovery from surgery.

I get this eerie sick feeling every time I enter early in the morning when the place and beds are completely empty. I imagine a great infectious catastrophe filling the enormous room with the sick and dying--nurses running around--doctors bumping into each other. TApe. IV. Smocks. Blood. Vomit.

Instead, it is silent, ran a bit like a normal, work, day-to-day office. Everyone knows their assignment.

The most dangerous part about ECT is not the treatment itself, but the anesthesia. When I wake up, I have a nurse watching me until I leave the building. She is dedicated to me, and me only. When I am done, she moves on to another patient.

There is nothing particularly fascinating about the process of ECT. They place monitors on me for blood pressure, heart rate, and EKG. They place another arm cuff to see how much I tense up during the seizure. From there, they put on two "stickers" one on the top of my head and the other on the side of my face to somehow transmit the electricity. Right before I pass out, they make me breathe oxygen through a mask.

I'm told that the whole process takes about 5 minutes. The seizure itself is about 30 seconds depending on the brain.

Despite this, many people are virulently against ECT. I have nothing to say to that except it is perhaps a last stop before suicide.

ECT and All Bullshit

ECT requires long commitment. There are six to twelve intensive treatment (three per week), and then after that, one per week for four weeks.

I'm not allowed to drive for three weeks after my intensive treatment. Or for twenty-four hours after each treatment.

You hope in all of that, there's a miracle. You wake up, and someone re-started the clock back. You find the person you were before the dark came.

Most of me thinks it's all bullshit. The tides of bipolar disorder rules, makes up their own language and bow to nothing. ECT, pills, lights--all of it, and you're just waiting for the tip of the scale. Manic. Depressed. Manic.

Manic.

Rocking gently like a chair in the corner of the living room.

ECT

You know who your friends are by how they react to the initials, "ECT."

"STAy out of the shower room!"

--the auditory hallucination of my mother's voice, August of 2011 while I was at STanford

The CIA Delusion

One of the more common delusions involve the CIA and other government agencies. In fact, this blog started off being a government conspiracy blog.

While I was at STanford in August of 2011, I had series of delusions about the CIA. a.

"E" told me that I could join the CIA if I hung myself in the shower long enough to black out, but not to die.

For those of you who are awake while reading this, that's impossible unless someone cuts you down.

AT the time, I didn't even think of that, but I absolutely refused to join the CIA if it included a little man in my head.

For a long time, I couldn't write about my shame over the "maybe." Who would let a known killer stay out in the public--even if it isn't real?

There were other times when the voices threatened to kill me if I did something, and I did so with gusto--certain that if I died for my writing (often their attacks were surrounding the blog)--at least it meant something to me.

These moral questions plagued me. What would you be willing to die for? Who are the Patrick Henry's?

There is a difference between willing to die, and being willing to kill yourself.

Nora, the Hallucination and the Threat of DEath

Nora, the hallucination, taught me things about myself. At the time I was supposed to be gathering evidence for a report to go to Washington, D.C. to the INspector General (because someone in actuality did hack my computer, and the FBI would not investigate--this was next in command). Nora was very interested in this because (as the delusion went) if this was filed, she would be held for criminal charges. For the first time, she could be caught for killing.

She bargained with me once.

I remember this very clearly.

She said that she would left me live if I promised to never file the report.

Would I?

I said, "Maybe." a. Then, I felt like this hallucination, Nora, had the power of an invisible god--that to create--that to destroy. I felt myself weaken. The threat of death was over me--for writing--for doing other things. Could I let a known killer go--one who would do so again? To escape? "Maybe." I was walking around in a life size nightmare--Nora, the dictator.

She responded, "What did I tell you? Never bargain." aad.

The nurses here at STanford will tell you that there is no way to hang yourself in the shower room at H2.

I will concede to that.

There were other delusions during that stay at STanford in August of 2011.

One of my favorites is thinking that an alien life form is trying to take over my body and mind.

I Think About Crying

I don't cry anymore, I think about crying, what I'd cry over. a.

I'd first cry over Morpheus.

If I had any crying left, I'd cry for my dreams lost.

"And! I ate a McDonald's burger and it's drained me to the max. I feel ashamed, dirty, like I blew a stranger in a public bathroom and liked it."

--in an email from Rosa

The problem was with the voices, I would experience physical symptoms along with delusions--feeling faint, limbs going numb--things convincing me I was dying. What was not real turned into something felt and believable.

What was Nora's problem?

I created all these scenarios, including Nora and the General. I essentially did it to myself.

Nora was an avenue of guilt. I felt guilty about the Wife and the Facebook message, and there was Nora to beat me up about it, and to try to kill me over it.

Nora

OUt of all the voices, Nora was the most vicious, the most clever, and the witty.

Sometimes in between "sessions" (of her coming up with ways to beat me to the point of suicide), we would chat like friends, like how we use to (since Nora is actually a name of one of my friends). It was twisted and perverted. Sometimes I use to think that I could talk her out of killing me.

"So, what do you think?" She would say. "Do you think he loved you the most? And that's why I'm here." She would bait me. "It got a little too personal. He came inside of you."

That was nOra's rule. He broke it.

"I will lie to you. Nothing I tell you will be the truth except you're going to die, Lacey," she said. "Because if I don't get you in this hospital, I will get you at home."

Zyprexa killed Nora, but it took a long time. She came home with me. Every time she appeared, my pulse went up tremendously.

She is the most frightening person I have ever met in my mind--worse than the General, who lasted a long time too.

TAke Me

Most people probably wonder why I would believe Nora--she's just a voice in my head--she doesn't influence any power over my body--or directly over any action I take.

What people fail to realize.

You are just a voice in your head.

Take away the stream of consciousness, and you will feel the cold depth of hell.

I know because I felt the edges, tip-toeing around them with the voices pushing me into the middle.

Nora at one point was so powerful, I literally couldn't hear myself think.

I was dying inside my own brain.

Nora was going to take me, one way or another.

EXTREMELY Suicidal

Back in August 2011, when I was at triage in STanford University Hospital, I wrote down, "EXTREMELY suicidal" for reason I was coming in that day.

I didn't know how to explain to the nurses that there was a female voice in my head trying to kill me.

I went to STanford's H2 because it was the only way I knew how to get admitted into a hospital without displaying any physical symptoms. If Nora could push me to suicide or otherwise harm me (I had bouts of low pressure that she claimed was her killing off parts of my brain function--the effect of being dizzy was scary as hell at the time--), my best chance of survival was in an institution.

"I am not going to go into details at the moment about all my experiences with ECT right now. It is a very controversial thing and I want to make sure that I do it justice and help people truly understand more about it, so I am just going to tell you two things: it is much more humane now, (no more One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), and, it saved my life. After the first treatment the 'thoughts', that urge to hunt down anything I could to kill myself with, were gone. Gone."

--The Bunny Years, entry: Linea's Treatment

The Past - Delusions and Hallucinations

Being back in the hospital reminds me of all the horrible delusions that were running through my head when I first went into Stanford on August of 2011. One of the worst was "Nora," the anon for the Wife, who was a psychic and a pusher.

Being one of the main voices in my head at the time, loud and clear, I tend to believe most of what she said.

I had no idea what was going on with my psyche, I had never experienced auditory hallucinations before--

She said that her husband had relationships with other women, and then she would kill them after he was done screwing them--by pushing them to suicide.

You know who you are when you are under the threat of death as I thought I was. I could never convince myself that I didn't love MOrpheus even though his wife was a serial killer, and he was an accomplice.

These memories of the delusions and hallucinations are not comforting. Nora would describe in detail how she was going to kill me if she couldn't get me to hang in the shower. "You will hang in that shower, they always do in the end," she would say over and over again. I promised myself one thing. Even if Nora never left, I would never give her the satisfaction of doing it by hanging.

She said she would kill me within four weeks at STanford. That I'd never last. Meanwhile, while I was drowning in voices and chaos, the doctors were starting me with Zyprexa, which perhaps saved my life.

I never hear from Nora anymore. I wonder about the power of auditory hallucinations--who's really in control of the psyche. Nora would say that she could break me down, and that I would snap--done--do her bidding. IN reality, I am all the voices, they are a part of me. A part of me, the largest wanted to live--

Through this time, I dreamed about the bottle of morphine I could grab once I was out of the hospital. I could not live with Nora, although at times I was learning to block her out.

There is a dark and scary place we can all go if we're not careful, where voices like Nora reign.

I went to STanford that August to die. I figured if she had done it before (which according to Nora she had), I had little chance of escaping a voice in my head with mental powers. I had never done much meditation or learning to control my pre-cog's.

We know that voices drive people to suicide. It's very dangerous time in a patient's life.

No special powers were needed. I don't even remember when I started the Zyprexa or even taking it.

I emailed MOrpheus again today to let him know that I am still in the hospital and being treated with ECT.

I expect no response.

"Focus on your breathing."

--the last thing I heard before I passed out from the anesthesia.

It's unusual for people to remember so much around the time of the ECT treatment.

I don't know how I'm supposed to get better when I don't even remember what it was like to be normal.

The catch is they'll stop the ECT treatments when I'm not depressed.

What will that feel like?

How many rounds with ol' Sparky will it take for me to recognize myself in the mirror, and say, "Today is a good day"?

How will I even know how to describe the normal mood to the doctors with the notebooks? I've forgotten. My whole life is about being depressed, down, morose--I'm consumed by it, and left with nothing.

I want to cry for myself, but can't. Years from now, what will I think of myself? Will the ECT have long lasting effects on my memory?

What treatments will be left to try ten years down the road, twenty?

What if there is none?

I was really scared to do ECT.

The night before my first treatment, my stomach was tight, I was nauseous, and I had a horrible headache--as if my body was preparing for what was to come.

"...before you ruin my life..."

--One of the patient's mother said to her son, who is undergoing psychiatric treatment, here at STanford

Update from the Hospital

I had my first ECT treatment today. I woke up from the seizure with virtually no side effects, no headache, no nausea, no memory loss. I was not confused in any way.

I have improved since I've been in the hospital, but the changes have been small. I noticed that I laughed at something or smile more. My energy level is up a bit. I don't fall asleep as early as I had when I first arrived at STanford. I don't think about MOrpheus as much.

When I was initially hospitalized, I was in H2 (the locked ward), but have since been transferred to G2P.