I've literally sat here and written out a few thread titles, and none of them seemed appropriate

So instead I'll just do this.

I am going to be posting things, likely in vague detail, about my brainweird here. Mostly because it helps to... Say this shit?

I'm okay with comments. I might even expand.
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I had my first blackout last year. I lost two hours, and afterwards I broke down in fear that one day, I would wake up and have missed years.

I had my second blackout this August. I lost two weeks. Dread is the only thing I felt about it.

I had my third blackout two nights ago. I lost three hours. I was monitored this time, and went for a journey, shoeless, four times around the two block neighborhood at a fast pace before booking it towards the highway. My fiance body-checked me in panic, thinking I was heading for the traffic. I only remember suddenly being Outside, and having no idea why. I don't feel anything this time. Only blistered.

I had my fourth blackout today, quietly and without incident. I was watching movie and suddenly it was over. Fiance doesn't know.

I don't want to tell him. I honestly don't want to tell you.

 

This is something that your doctor should know, if you have one. Losing three hours is bad enough, but losing two whole weeks? That is scary. Scary enough that you really, really need to tell your doctor.

I'd start by telling your fiance, though. He can help you gather data about what you do when you're losing time.

 

that is really scary, and i agree that you should talk to a dr asap, especially with how close together the blackouts seem to be getting.

i understand why you don't want to tell your fiance; telling loved ones about mental health stuff can be really, really scary. but he's almost certainly twigged to something going on, and it would probably help him if you told him that he could help you (by keeping track of what's going on, etc.). he's your fiance because he loves you, after all.

 

I wasn't clear: He knows about the blackouts, and was very helpful piecing together what happened during the [J.] Strike, as we've come to call it. He is also the one who followed me on the third one.
I just haven't told him about my fourth one.

 

I am scared to talk to a doctor because I'm terrified that I will be institutionalized again.

Two, I cannot afford one. I found a pro bono, but he is clearly not concerned, as he put me off until after the new year. I am thinking about just Not Doing That, to be honest.

 

If I have another, I'm going to just go to the ER and baker act myself. I'm tired of feeling this way all the time.

 

It is highly possible that this is not a brainweird thing. If it happens again, you should definitely go to the ER, because then they can have a proper look at you! These kinds of things can also happen with physical problems in your brain, like seizures or tumours or infections.

I really hope you can get it sorted out, and that it's treatable. Good luck!

 

I've considered that, and it's the primary reason I'm going to go to the ER if it happens again.
It does sometimes happen with bipolar disorder, but not often.

 

Are there other options where you live for county services? I know you've probably combed through them already, but now and then a second combing can pop up a fresh new face that might at least have the next place to go on the wild goose chase to get treatment. I'm really sorry you've gone through that, it sounds terrifying.. but at least you're not entirely freefalling. I hope things look up sooner rather than later for you, this is definitely no way to relax if you're on high alert all the time.

 

perhaps even if it is a brainweird, going to ER will turn up someone pro bono who treats blackouts seriously. (i honestly cannot fathom a dr who would put off blackouts for at least three months, wtf.)

 

Seconding this. At the very least, the wandering-towards-busy-roads-in-a-stupor thing is clearly untenable, regardless of the cause.

 

No blackout to report, but boy howdy am I in a mixed state.
Every little thing that's annoying me is a cue for my brain to proverbially pound fist on table, chanting "DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH"

 

your brain is being a dick and if it were a person i would punch it in the face to get it to shut up

 

I very much agree. Is it strange that I consider my brain to be a separate being from me?
Like, I see it as some asshole who doesn't pay rent and lives in my skull and says rude shit and makes me feel fucking terrible.

Like they're some pink squishy dick who occasionally goes "Hey, go ahead and fuck everything up. Oh by the way, I brought my friend Terrible Nondescript Dread over. He's gonna be staying here for a few days, just until he gets on his feet."

It's never just a few days. Never.

 

Spoiler: stupid, self-hating shit here

So I really wish I was able to trust and relate to people more, because it's very hard to make friends when you literally see everyone as a threat to your existence.
I used to be so outgoing, and I just don't know what fucking happened. I am a fucking hermit, and the thought of leaving the house makes me want to throw myself down the stairs. Today is not a good day. It's never a good day. I want to go to the hospital, but that requires leaving the house. And frankly, I don't think they'll take me seriously or even do anything for me because I don't have insurance. I don't have anything. I can't even get a job anymore.
I'd like off this ride, please.

 

Spoiler: Welcome to my manic fuckhouse

When I swing, my sexuality also seems to swing. I'm not like, werestraight, or some shit like that but...

When I'm manic, I'm hypersexual. When I'm depressed, I'm sex-repulsed.
This makes me come off as hot-and-cold to every person I've ever been in a relationship with.
Also, when I'm manic, I shamelessly flirt with just about any male-IDing individual. Shamelessly. it's utterly embarrassing when I slut it up a bit to someone and come off as a jackass when later, without any change on their part, find them kinda gross because I've swung low.
And mixed states? Somehow, my hypersexuality violently and angrily coexists with the sex repulsion. I want the D, but I might barf a little if I actually have to touch or see it.

Long story short, I'm gross, shallow, and so very, very fucked up that no one should ever, ever date me, and I'm horribly lucky to even think about having R. around.
Do I want other people? Yes. But the feeling never lasts long. It's all lust and a quiet yearning for romantic attention from LITERALLY ANY OTHER SOURCE than the one person I am actually in love with.
I don't understand. I wish I got it, but I don't.
Can you give an eviction notice to an organ? I need to clear out my skull for a new tenant.

 

Spoiler: done.

I am not myself. Granted, I don't think I was anything to begin with. I know its just depersonalization, but I really don't think I'm real at all.

I have a problem and I just can't deal with it on my own. I can't do these things. I can't deal. And I don't think anyone will ever understand.
I want to go home. I don't know what that means because I haven't had a home for most of my adult life. I want to smash my own head with a hammer. I want to rip my legs apart. I want to scream and scream until I am incapable of screaming ever again. I want to be anyone else. I am not and will not be okay. I want to go home.

 

Spoiler: screams into the void

Look, I know I'm not real and you know I'm not real, so why do you fucking pretend that I'm one of the best things to ever happen to you when the general consensus among your family members and myself is the exact opposite of that??? I'm not anything. I don't understand how you can love nothing and I'm so scared of disappointing you and scaring you that I can't even ask anyone for help.
And it doesn't matter. It really doesn't matter because I'm. Not. Real. The only reason I accept myself as human and not some THING wearing some poor kid as a skinsuit is because DNA testing proved otherwise.
You'd think this would tell me that I'm, in fact, a real person, but no. I'm not. I'm not real. I'm some meatpuppet. I don't have a soul. I barely have a mind. I am trying very hard to be human and I am not doing too well at it and WE BOTH KNOW IT. So please stop freaking out when I try to get help because every fucking time I go off the deep end you just fucking LOSE IT in grief and I'm seriously considering breaking up with you because I feel like shit when you do these things and I REALIZE THAT'S HYPOCRITICAL, OKAY???? I just
wish I could tell you this to your face instead of balling it up inside.
But I can't.
Because you can't handle it.

 

Spoiler: Addendum

I am not an attention-seeking creature. I'd rather be left alone and interact when I want to interact and ifthat's not a good time, then HEY! that's very cool. I understand that other people have their own wants and desires and just...
Look, the only person who isn't my codependent boyfriend who has talked to me today was a chatbot on skype who desperately wanted me to check out its cam show.
Everyone else? I'm not sure if my messages aren't getting through but I'm being utterly fucking ignored and I'm just so fucking done with this I have tried and tried and tried but it's not fucking worth it. I'm not real anyway, so it's no wonder no one wants to fucking talk to me.

Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it. Just fuck it all.

 

Witnessed. I'm sorry you're going through this.