I'm never taking Topamax again.
Never.
I believe I came close to going crazy last night. I took my medication kind of late yesterday, on account of me waking up late. I took my nightly dose of Topamax at 1:30 a.m., then took Remeron around 1:50 a.m. From previous encounters with Topamax, I've begun to suspect that it doesn't mix well with Remeron.
Around 2:30 a.m. I began hearing things. I don't like it when I'm the only one hearing things. It scares me. Things didn't get bad until a few minutes before 3 a.m. I began feeling as if I wasn't breathing, which is something that's been going on every night since I began taking the Topamax. Anxiety attacks soon hit me, making me fearful that I'm going to die. Somewhere, my brain is logically thinking,
You're obviously breathing if you're having one of those attacks. They make you breath harder. You're not going to die.
That logical side can't be heard, though. My brain does nothing but scream and tell me,
YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! You can't breath! You're going to die here in this pathetic way.It's almost as if my brain is laughing at me.
I IMed Christina and told her what was going on. She suggested that I go lay down, which was already my intention. Jair told me to not get too crazy. I told them both goodnight and logged off of the computer.
After my computer shut off and the lights had been turned off, I began getting paranoid. As I made my way to the door of the computer room, my brain told me that dead people were watching me. Yes, you read that right. I thought dead people were watching me. They looked like humans, but they didn't look solid. I'm not sure how to explain it. That, of course, scared the hell out of me. Once I was out of the room and into the hallway, I felt safe. There's a nightlight in my bathroom which gives off light into the hallway. As long as I was in some kind of light, the dead people couldn't see me. I walked toward my bedroom, but was frightened to go in. My room was dark and there was a dead person sitting on my bed, watching me.
I hate being watched.
I sucked it up, went into my room, turned on a lamp, made down my bed, and got in. I turned the lamp off. The dead person wasn't on my bed anymore, but he was somewhere in my room. He was the least of my problems, though. After I laid down, I began to feel tingling in my neck every time I moved it. I decided I'd be still for a few minutes, to see if that would help. After about five minutes, I tried to turn my head. I couldn't. My neck was very tingly, and it wouldn't move. I couldn't even turn over. I put all of my effort into moving and not one body part would move. I started to panic, afraid that I'd become paralyzed. That only brought on another anxiety attack.
Finally, I got myself relaxed, though it took quite a while. Once I was relaxed, I fell asleep. Shortie woke me up this afternoon at 1 p.m., barking because he wanted me to play with him. My jaw was killing me, as my last dose of medication was at 12:30 a.m., and I take my medication every 6 hours.
One thought ran through my mind as I swallowed my medication earlier this afternoon:
At least I'm breathing.
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