Making a tinfoil-hat 03personality psyche
My First Love
Now I wasn’t the one with the troubles, but my girlfriend was. Her family was very religious. Her mother played the organ (Istrument in a Church) and her step dad was somewhat of a pastor. They beat her with a ritgerte, let her clean the organic garbage can with maggots and only a cloth lobe, even tough she was vegetarian. Also she had to pound stones in the basement. She had told her mom in advance that she doesn’t want to do a part in a sports class and her mom approved it. When we were together in bed cuddling, her mother bursted in the door and yelled at her why the school wrote a letter, complaining she didn’t partipicate in sports class. Again, she already know. Also her mom was a real Mountain Troll and she also was a Hunter and had Guns in her house.. My gf cried a lot and I decided that I want to help her out of this family and get her in a living group, for some months and then move together. So we escaped her home and took a taxi to the next trainstation and went to my dad. We had told him in advance what we want to and he approved. Then the youth office was involved and she was brought to a living group. There she had the choice between the group and her real father. She chose her father. At first we thought things will get better, but instead it got worse. Her father was an alcoholic, her aunt which lived in the same house was devious as fuck and her grandma was a angry bitter woman whose favourite activity was to scream at others. Her grandma was owning the house and was very old fashioned. If she had known about our relationship, she would had kicked her out of their house, so we had to be sneaky when meeting each other. She now lived around 30 Kilometers away from me and I had only a Scooter which drove 37 KM/h. Also it was winter and we lived at this time in the black forest, where temperatures dropped down to -15 C° easily. We had met as often as possible and enjoyed our selves in an Hunter’s Stand and in the Woods on a stone.
Our first flat living together
When I finished School and she was of legal age, we moved together in a cheap tiny flat with bad thermal insulation. We also had no heather but an wood oven. The oven wasn’t big enough to glow trough the night, so we woke up at the morning with frosty breath. She did an apprenticeship at Fielmann, which sells Glasses. I visited a higher school, which I sadly failed at. So I also started an apprenticeship, bought a car and we lived all together 2 years happy and intimate. I still took my medicine and visited the psyciatrist. But it felt too good to be true, so I said to her one night: “I am afraid that my illness will ruin our relationship”
Everything comes to an end
The beginning of the end was an call from my aunt. She told me, that my mother was leaving the Motherfucker and that she needed our help, to get away from him. I haven’t heard anything from her for round about 7 years. I was happy to hear that and immediently agreed to help. An friend of mine had a storage room where we placed her kitchen. I drove to her and had a nervous breakdown and could stop just in time before I cried till I had no tears left. I drove to my mother. When I arrived, my dog which I also haven’t seen in 7 years, recognized me and went crazy. I collapsed once more. When I finnaly calmed down, we helped her move. I was so motivated that I couldn’t sleep and drove back and forth. I was so excited and in action, that I was awake for 2-3 days. this was the point where my psyche couldn’t cope with anymore. I spare you the whole drama
But in the end I went back to the psychiatry. It was just the top floor of a hospital and it was the worst psychiatry I was in, my whole life. They kept me ~3-4 days and decided I was healthy, overseeing, that I was manic. So I came back and I said I wanna drink a beer. I really wanted to celebrate seeing my mom again and be out of hospital. But my gf and I got in a fight. To be fair, I was really on edge at this point was was loud and all that, which she wasn’t used to. She drove to a friend and called a friend of mine, who imeadently saw what the case was: Again a Psychosis. I didn’t want to go to the psychiatry and wanted to create the best computer game in the world and already tried to spend the money which I didn’t have. I yelled at my motherfucker, that I’ll buy his land an burn everything to the ground, also I wanted to buy a Porsche online. My friend did his best to get me off the internet. I started to get agressive but after some time he got me calmed down. When I remember correctly, I slept after some hours and went back to psychiatry. I thought it was just for a talk, but it turned out, I had to stay there. I refused and kicked against the entry door and was screaming. Around 5-6 caregiver put me on fixing bed. It was the first time. A judge was involved to keep my in psychiatry. I rememberd from my last visits, that sports was good for me, so I started to work out and drink a lot. I haven’t thought of it, but it makes sense now. I drank around 6-7 Liters a day and flushed the medicine out of my blood system. So they adapted the dosis.
How I destroyed our relationship
I was already before my psychosis unhappy with our relationship. I had so much things I wanted to talk about. But I didn’t want to do this, when I was psychotic. I wanted to give all a deep thought when I was again clearthinking. So I told her not to visit me in psychiatry and give me room to recover. I stood my point of view, but she was still exert pressure on me. She put so much pressure on me that I pushed her away.
At this time I still was manic. And I had an roomate which always talked about fucking around. fucking in pataya fucking here fucking there. Hookers here Hookers there. I somehow told to myself that the relationship is broken bejoind repair. I pushed her away until I yelld her “I don’t need you I just get a hooker” This was it for our relationship. I pushed her sotospeak away and we went apart. She tried one more time to seduce me and got me again falling with her in love with her, when she ended it again.
I don’t wanna try to excuse for my behaviour, but take this Wikipedia Article from Wikipedia tl;dr I wasn’t myself at this time
The symptoms of mania include elevated mood (either euphoric or irritable), flight of ideas and pressure of speech, increased energy, decreased need and desire for sleep, and hyperactivity. They are most plainly evident in fully developed hypomanic states. However, in full-blown mania, they undergo progressively severe exacerbations and become more and more obscured by other signs and symptoms, such as delusions and fragmentation of behavior.
Going full blown Crazy
When I filally realized that I had drank too much water, I stopped doing that, and the medication started kicking in. I started to get wrose and worse and side effects like throat air spasm, sleeping 17 hours, panic attacks and physicially feeling like a 90 year old grandma. I told the doctor, we could go down with dosis, because I stopped thinning out my medication, but he didn’t listen. The panic attacks were really hard. I unironically thought I will suffocate. There was a medication that could help in such a case: Tavor. But this medication makes addictive, so one can only use it for 2 weeks. I have told my doctor over and over again, that I don’t want such a high dosis, but he didn ´t listen. I felt so helpless, that I went full engrage. I screamed my fear out and kicked against the nurses door, out of despair. So again 5-6 caregivers put me on a fixation bed. I remember waking up in the middle of the night having to pee and still was on fixation bed. The nurses bell was out of reach and I wanted to yell for a nurse. I was getting louder and louder until I screamed. Within some minutes a nurse came in and yelled at me “Mr. tinfoil-hat it’s middle of the night, stop screaming.” I told her I had to go to the bathroom. He declined and instead pulled down my pants and reached a bedpan… From this point I was just a quiet vegetable that said yes and nodded my head to everything. From doctors point of view, it was a big success. But I still felt like I have to die every night, sleep 17 hours and be a vegetable.
I was released from psychiatry into a Residence for mental ill patients. The average age was around 60, I had no internet and had heavy panic attacks every night. I could set the clock on when I got a panic attack. I could only get rid of them when I fell asleep, so I was in this state for around 3 hours. The feeling to drown 30 meters under the sea, with no more breath, must feel similar. My room mate didn’t talk anything besides Hello and Bye. The most I could hear him saying was “Are you going now?” The residence was up on a hill and with my medication I couldn’t really go down in the city and up again. so i was stuck there. I had the choice to work in a workshop for the disabled but I tryed it and declined. I talked a lot on the phone, until there was not much to say since my days were all the same. So my relatives didn’t really want to talk with me. I could understand why. At the upside, I git my Psychiatrist to change my medication and the panic attacks didn’t appear every night, but every 2-4 days. Which was a huge improvement. I asked some other people there and quickly recognized that this could be the end. And things will never change from here. There were people which lived around 20 years there and no improvements were made. You saw it in their eyes, they had given up. I didn’t want to accept that. So me and my dad figured something out.
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