New Mission

The new meds (or “old meds”, since I’ve technically been on both of them before, at lower doses) seem to be very helpful. They have me on an antidepressant, Lexapro, and an antipsychotic, Risperadone.

Unfortunately, D is still here. The Risperadone doesn’t make him go away. Not at this dose, at least.

He’s been acting really weird for the last three days. In the hospital, he showed up only once, early in the week. He listed off a million reasons why I should hate myself, and told me to kill myself—you know, the usual. But now it’s different. Ever since I got out, he’s been almost friendly. I don’t know why, but it has to be for some sinister purpose.

He’s also been clinging to me. Before, he was mostly “dormant,” and it was nice to not see him everywhere, like I am now.

This morning I wanted to scream at him. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing there, and I wanted to tell him to go away, but I stopped myself. Not only would me screaming at something invisible scare the shit out of my family, but I knew that that’s what he wants me to do. So instead, I’m going to ignore him.

Ignoring things never seemed to help me before, but I’m going to try it again, just in case. I’m not going to let him see me react to him in any way.

My new mission is to be as calm and resilient as possible. The next time I see my doctor, I’ll ask him to up the dose. And I’ll keep doing that until something forces me to stop, or until D disappears.

By my nineteenth birthday, I’ll’ve known D for eight years. I don’t want there to be a ninth, or tenth. He will not torment me anymore. I won’t allow it.