The First Time I Went Crazy. Pt2

When I told my best friends I was crazy, I was not prepared for the flipping of the script fiasco that followed. My definition of a flipping of the script moment is as follows: for example, you break up with a boy because he cheated but he flips the script on you and makes it your fault he cheated for some stupid reason he thinks is your fault and you end up believing it. My flipping of the script moment happened with my best friend1. I have known this girl literally for over a decade, almost two now, and when it went down I just took it. It wasn’t until years later when I was discussing that time with best friend 2 that I even remembered fully what actually happened. I mean best friend 2 had to tell me everything that happened because I had just chosen to gloss over it.

When I told best friend 1 that I was crazy, she flipped the script and made it out to be like I went crazy because of her, that I was blaming all my problems on her. I remember her shutting me out then and not talking to me because she was so pissed I would blame her for me being crazy; which was not the case. I remember trying to explain to her over and over that it wasn’t about her, that it was about me and my inability to handle my shit.

It wasn’t until best friend 2 brought it up, that I remembered how fucked up it was. When bf2 was telling me she was pissed at how it went down, I started to remember more hurt feelings at the way it happened. Bf 1 and I had several classes together that year and I remember she totally ignored me after that until I fully explained myself to her and that it wasn’t her fault. Bf2 told me that it upset her seeing it happen that way - which made me respect bf 2 more because at the time we were more of acquaintances, but it was high school, and no one is at their best in high school and every one is stressed out.

So, I started seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist. Therapist I saw every week and my parents paid her $80 an hour to spill my guts too. Psychiatrist lady, I only remember seeing, at the most, 5 times. Those five times I saw her, I only spent maybe fifteen to thirty minutes with her then she would prescribe me or up my meds: Zoloft to balance my moods and Trazodone to help me sleep.

The medication helped at first. I was only supposed to take one Trazodone to help me sleep but my body would fight it and I would just end up laying there awake all night. So, that and Zoloft would be upped by the psychiatrist. Talking to the therapist was a relief at first, but I felt the process was taking to long. I got restless and anxious because I was ready to feel better and it was taking too damn long, and my parents were ready for me to stop being a moody teenage bitch and it was taking too long.