Doubled up

11:45 pm
I can't sleep again.
The haunting images are coming back. My sons pocket knife left on the couch is harmless yet it begs to join the madness in my head. be physically present. And it is showing me (in visions) how it can be.
I HATE these thoughts. They are not welcome and I don't let them stay.
I force them away with whatever I've got. But sometimes they are persistent. If I change my thinking direction they will find someway to remind me of my worthlessness and advocate for killing me off in my own story. Like Antigone, not even the main character in her own play, I must die for the Creons' sake, pride and/or ego because he/they is/are the one/s in power.
Of course I will not, or at least I hope I will not, ...at very least I can say I will keep fighting for my life and resist the urge to hang myself in my forsaken tomb of abandonment- because I currently have a spoon to dig with and a few others that are hoping to help free me.
What a silly analogy.
I am already starting to feel a bit tired. Tired like my husband's patience is wearing with me.
I took 2. doubled my dose. I need to call the psychiatric PAC to get that officially prescribed. I think that may be wise.
Why the change?
Is it simply, like I already know, the medication does not change you and your thinking it just makes it possible for you to make the changes you need to.
At least that is my hope. Is that hope real?
Or is the timeline the culprit?
New neuropsychologist suggested I write one with all the things that happened, that they said or did that may have caused harm, and all the times I tried to tell them what was going one with me and it was ignored or avoided... All the times I tried to tell them that I was being haunted by suicidal thoughts followed by "I know what handle those" to keep me out of a lockup?  And all the times I tried to tell them "I just want to know what is going on with my head"
This is hard... HARD!
As I tried to write the timeline I realize and remember; it is too much. Too many times I tried to explain, to ask for help, hoping they saw what was really going on with me and believing them every time they took a different approach, decided it was something else or that I should go somewhere else.

Today: The previous was all written just before midnight last night and that last statement was exhausting enough (probably coupled with that double dose of quetiapine) to put me to sleep.
Trying to write out the timeline started the whole thing replaying again. "he loves me, he loves me not" flower petals trying to determine my fate kind of bullshit coupled with "You crazy!" and "They be crazy" and what the hell do I do about this?
I am so tired of this cycle, this damn cycle of mediocre crazy. And yet I am also immensely grateful that my crazy is so benign and understood (if only by me) because I know I am nowhere near the crazy of all the crap I hear and see all me and all around the world.
...Which can at times add to the burden I carry, because "where much is given, much is expected"
So I think it is time to walk away from all this today and enjoy my day. And I will.
But I'd like to share this funny story that was playing on the truck radio this morning: The nurse who loved me. ...( revised 9/10: Wait this isn't funny, it's the nurse that is saying hello to the rugs topography... I din't initially understand the violent attack part of it... Thankfully my crazy is much less violent towards others, an embarrassing mistake to think this song is beautiful and funny but at least evidence to suggest my own naive innocence, at least that)
Also I'm happy to say the knife is just a knife that got left laying around again; not a threat to my safety.