Monthly Archives: January 2014

Sunday night I had my first shit Samaritan. Some dozy bastard called Ian who said things like ‘oh no, that’s awful’ and ‘aw’ and, when I said how much I struggle with relationships, ‘well you can see it from the other person’s point of view, you can’t be the easiest person to be with’. What a stupid c-word. Speech was pressured and thoughts were racing. Spent much of the evening biting my knuckle.

I was really struggling with the urge to self-harm. I’ve got rid of that habit but I’m still binge eating. Rubbish all over the kitchen. Can’t be fucked to cook.

Yesterday I was massively agitated. Feet and hands were going all day. Bit my knuckle again. Barely slept, felt all fucked up for the day until I had a workout. Then I went to the pub quiz and threw myself into meeting as many people as possible. I’m friendly with the locals and one dude, same age as my dad, cornered me – while the conversation was interesting it was all about him massaging his ego and him flattering himself by pretending he could chat me up. I’m sick of this bollocks from blokes. It’s all about ego and whatever you can do to make them feel comfortable, no matter how uncomfortable it might make me feel. I shouldn’t stand for it blah blah fucking blah. Even though I had a lot of fun with L last night I can feel anxiety and awkwardness inside. I can’t figure out where to sit or stand when I’m talking to people.

Drinking last night seemed to help a lot today. I slept well, even if I woke up an hour early and went back to sleep, and was noticeably less agitated all day. Getting home has been shit though. I feel drained and lonely and can’t get out of bed. Don’t want to call anyone but am desperate for company. Burnt my garlic bread and my chips had freezer burn. It’s a dreadful dinner. Exercising would probably help but I feel so tired and low. Plus I need to let my muscles rest after yesterday. I keep thinking about hurting myself, it’s only a vague notion but it exists. I just want this all to be over. My hypochondria and germophobia are fucking with me – my hands are raw from all the washing, even though I didn’t bother having a shower this morning. I have a fixation on sexual health and cold sores – keep checking my fingers for blisters and am convinced I’ve got one in my nose but can’t check. Made myself aware of all the walk in sexual health clinics in my area – obsession or not, it’s useful info.

I’m so fucking bored. I should be getting ready for my mock exam tomorrow but my brain feels like fudge.

On the plus side, my formal complaint to the mental health team has netted me an appointment before my trip to Scotland next week. I also got an apology and am gonna have a 15 minute chat with the unit manager about my concerns.

I want a cuddle but I don’t want anyone to touch me. It’s exhausting having a head full of contradictions. I want a beer but it’ll ruin my insides. I want to hurt myself but I don’t want to hurt myself because it’ll hurt and it’s pointless and I’ve talked myself out of the habit. I’m thoroughly sick of being mentally ill. I need to take the bin out.

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Had a big panic attack yesterday. Called W. Dunno if that was a mistake but it was good to talk to him anyway. Went round L’s house last night after she had some dreadful news, we sat drinking beer and smoking and talking. Didn’t sleep until after 4am, mixture of disturbed sleep pattern and her housemates being noisy bastards until the wee hours.

Just had a minor binge on dinner, ice cream and chocolate and am feeling massively on edge. Not been able to concentrate, struggling to make decisions about where I want to sit in the house and there’s rubbish piling up in the kitchen. I’m desperate for some company but there’s no one about. Have rung too many friends in the past couple of days, don’t want to take the piss. Just feel so wound up and lonely. I really, really want a cuddle. Done a bit of exam prep but am struggling to concentrate. I’m becoming more and more disorganised and it’s doing my box in.

I wish I had a partner again but I also know that there’s nothing they’d be able to do. It’d get claustrophobic and weird and I’d get upset, just like every other relationship I’ve made a mess of. I just really want a cuddle. I want someone to take the bin out. I don’t want to have to look after someone else though, I don’t think I can. I want company. I want my mood stabilised. I want to be ok.

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I feel like I have ossified overnight. My muscles and joints are tar and glue. I can’t get out of bed. I want to eat and eat and eat until I’m sick. I wish I wasn’t so sludgy, I’d genuinely love to exercise. I feel ok, I’m zen about it as far as I can be because it’s just a shift, but I’m sad. I had a big flurry of memories listening to The Beatles.

I’m pissed off about all the rational explanations I’ve been getting off people. Realised it’s not helpful. Just need to accept that I’ve got bipolar disorder, for better or worse. Read this on a forum and it rang true:

“Mental illness [can be] incredibly lonely and depressing… he will definitely notice people pulling away over time and inevitably blame himself. Being mentally ill is depressing and overwhelming: you feel out of control of your life; your entire life trajectory has changed; you’re probably pretty miserable; and, on top of that, everyone is avoiding you.

If you know someone who is mentally ill, it’s difficult to sit with your own discomfort and uncertainty and avoiding them can help you avoid those feelings. But even being a physical presence that shows the other person that they are not entirely alone is truly meaningful. My experience is that many people think they have to “fix” the illness and make everything better, then get upset when their efforts don’t work. They might be very supportive at first but quickly give up and feel resentful of the person with the illness. I think it’s a destructive mindset. You need to set boundaries to make sure you are taking care of yourself as you offer what support you can give. Even if it’s watching a movie with the person or reading a memoir on their mental illness and telling them about it, it shows you care.”

 

We’ve been talking a lot about empathy at uni. We jump in and talk to people rather than listening because we’re concerned about our own ego – a person we care about feels sad so we feel sad and want to fix them really so we don’t feel sad anymore, even if we have the absolute best intentions. I know because I do it myself all the time. True empathy means turning off our own thoughts and putting ourselves in that person’s position, listening and thinking about what they want. Silence can be so helpful. I just want to talk and not be explained – that’s why ringing The Samaritans is so helpful. That being said, I don’t want anyone there at the same time. I go from ultimate extrovert to introvert who hides under the covers binging on cereal.

Speaking of which, can someone bring me some more Cinnamon Grahams? Or some Pop Tarts?

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Here’s the crash. After a very successful few weeks of socialising and enjoying life I’m now a bit fucked. Been impulse buying, only small things but silly shit I don’t need. Memory’s fucked, couldn’t remember what I needed in Tesco or how to buy a lightbulb. Been a bag of nerves the past few days, anxious for no reason, and today has been pretty bad. Granted, my flat looks incredible due to the vicious clear out I had but my hands have been trembling non-stop all day. Stayed up until 5am talking to a pal on Thursday morning despite having a disability assessment 6 hours later, was so tired I felt drunk all day and was a wreck. Made a total bugger of what was supposed to be a nice evening out. Rang The Samaritans last night because I couldn’t stop crying and was unbelievably stressed. They are so wonderful, it was an epiphany the first time I rang them. It’s great to just talk and talk without judgement or explaining or anyone giving you advice – particularly important because my impulse control is poor and I do [stupid] shit without seeing the consequences, people just want to support me and my enthusiasm is contagious, but The Samaritans just let me vent out my head.

Have had a few triggers for Very Bad Things this week and that’s been really hard. Thought I was stressed because of that but it’s all chicken and egg bullshit. We had some safeguarding lecturers discussing abuse and that was hard, especially when I left the room (mostly to go to the loo but there was some stuff which I couldn’t really hack) and people were looking at me. Reliving trauma is not fun, it’s not a way of connecting with another human being and, while I shouldn’t, I blame the person I was talking to. I dunno if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that the VBTs have become so painful – on the one hand I thought I had a handle on it and am really disappointed that it’s not fixed, on the other it’s good that I recognise how awful it was and that I should be angry and upset about what happened to me – I was a bit numb and blase about it all for a while.

All that serenity and control and confidence that hypomania affords has slid through my fingers like sand. It’s always so disappointing and heartbreaking when you realise it’s just the mental illness talking. I was having such a good time. I thought it was real. I always think it’s real. Now I’m a feverish and sweaty mess, wandering round Tesco looking haunted and utterly perplexed by lightbulbs. I am tired of being so fucking vulnerable – I’m so easy to fuck with and push around. I get myself into situations which I lose control of and this is why I invite abuse. I can see a long, horrible pattern. I AM SO ANGRY BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING HAPPY.

On the plus side, I have written a formal complaint to the community mental health team which abandoned me over Xmas (how could I not have a follow up for 6 weeks – utterly disgraceful) and will be in receipt of a new laptop plus some sexy equipment/software from DSA. So there’s that.

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Cat

My cat died today
And you said nothing
I’m disappointed
But I understand
It’s too awkward
Too shameful
Ultimately too painful
Although,
You think,
It’s just a cat
But this grief
Raw and unforgiving
Is a gateway
And I picture myself
Holding you
The night your father dies
I feel your body spasm
Masculine cries erupt silently
From your quivering muscles
And you crumble
Lost
Like a baby
And I will know what to do
Though there is little I can do
I will be unembarrassed
And I’ll forgive you
For saying nothing
About my cat

RIP Sidney – you were and will always be wonderful. I shall miss you terribly. I’m glad you did not choose to go away to die because when I go home, to our home, you will still be there. It means you loved us. Or, at least, you were too lazy to go anywhere else which means that even death cannot change you. I love you, you horrid cat. Enjoy that great big cardboard box in the sky.

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Boredom-de-dum-de-dum

I’m bored. So bored. I didn’t feel bored at uni and I didn’t feel bored when my friend was round. I felt good when I exercised and managed to push myself further. I watched a boring film and am writing my boring blog. Boring boring boring. It could be a bad sign, that it has all been hypomania and now here comes the tick tick tick crash, or it could be that I live on my own in a small flat with no one to talk to and am desperate for company. I miss my parents – the chat in our house is generally belter. 

I wish I was clear cut crazy instead of just maybe a bit of something not quite sure perhaps. That’s not really true though. I just hope this isn’t the yawning, painful boredom that makes me think of suicide. I can become hopelessly bored by everything to the point where I want to kill myself. Maybe I’m just understimulated today. Xmas was busy and fun with lots of people, I’m a natural extrovert, so maybe it’s just dull real life again.

I think the thing my brother was getting at before is that I just don’t know what’s normal. Like, it’s probably normal to be bored when you live on your own and Xmas has finished. I get dramatic and make it pathological. He reckons it’s because our parents never told us off as kids – we got long guilt trips or ignored or made to feel like we weren’t loved anymore if we did something wrong. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’m frustrated by not knowing – I’m not depressed about it but I’ve got too much time to think. Maybe I’m just being self-indulgent. I want visitors again. I was supposed to have a visit this week but it bottomed out. I’ve a trip to Scotland planned soon, booked on a whim, and I’m looking forward to it.

I’m knackered as well – I didn’t sleep very well last night (I think I was just too warm) and woke up a few times before my alarm. Perhaps it’s uni which disrupts my body clock, rather than me being dysfunctional, as it makes me get up at a time which doesn’t suit me and it’s not constant at the minute. Sometimes, after uni, I’m too tired to read or concentrate properly on TV or films. Maybe that’s normal. Fuck’s sake, man. Maybe I’m just normal and a bit of an idiot. I’ve been perky and cheerful today, went for a pint at lunch and then had a couple of beers with I this evening before he went to a party. Then I was bored. Maybe I just need people.

I wish I could go for a drive. The northern lights might be visible tonight. Christ, I wish I could go for a drive.

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Swimming to the surface?

It’s been a while, chums. Lots has happened, the break up was hard but I feel better. I’ve been feeling better for a few weeks, since before Xmas, and managed to enjoy a nice holiday at home and with friends. There was a horrendous gastric infection which a friend brought across from the US but the less details about that the better.

I feel more assertive at the moment. I have undertaken some brave things and been honest about my feelings. I feel in control. I don’t feel high but am obviously concerned I’ve just had a mild hypomanic period. I do have a deeper sense of wellbeing than I’ve had in months. Managed to resist drugs, had a bit to drink over Xmas but didn’t get smashed… New Year’s Eve I did lose my memory a little but we were playing a drinking game with champagne, big shots that we are. I have been maintaining my exercise routine which has been fantastic for my mood and my sleep has not been negatively affected. I’m hoping this has been a good period. I feel like myself. Events which might have shaken me, namely around cold sores which can be one of my killer obsessions, have been managed successfully and without panic. I feel just kind of zen and existentialist, that I am as I am but that’s just peachy, and I haven’t done anything proper silly. I hope. Time will tell. I have also recently been granted funding for a needs assessment for Disabled Students Allowance and I’ll report back with progress as that happens.

Today I’ve been in a funny mood but I’m sincerely hoping it’s just because I took a smaller 50mg dose of Trazodone last night with a view to reducing. Withdrawal includes sweating buckets (check), feeling edgy (yes) and I’ve noticed that it gives me an exhausted, drunk sort of feeling (guuuhhh). I’m hoping it’s just that. Full dose tonight. Going to ask doctors for 25mg tablets because I cannot hack a 50mg drop if it feels like this. My mum has always been very keen for me to come off the medication and I thought I’d give it a go since she mentioned it last night. Proof I shouldn’t do it unsupervised, just glad I had the day off.

The fear that I am both bipolar and not really bipolar hangs over me. I feel ok though, I’m pretty certain I’m just a bit fucked from my Trazodone as I’ve felt like this before. Just got to keep an eye on things. There is the concern that I split up with my last ex at exactly the same time last year. Am I just repeating yet another cycle or am I in control of my actions? Am I normal? Have I been happy and assertive or impulsive and reckless? Did I just spend the past few months in a relationship I didn’t want to be in and got massively depressed OR was I just regulation batshit? Am I still batshit? Did I just spend a long time living out the consequences of an extremely passive aggressive family, as my brother suggested? Was I having a difficult adjustment period after moving out on my own? Was it a seasonal change? Am I actually handling my shit or am I due to topple over any second? Answers on a postcard please!

Haven’t heard from the psychiatrist which is abysmal. Nice one, guys. Not like Xmas is a vulnerable time or anything. Good show.

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