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I am drunk. I ate sardines on toast, half an avocado and some chocolate which I really regret. I have been squeezing my face which I also really regret.

I had a good talk with my mum yesterday which resolved all my troubles but which has now faded into the ether/ethanol.

Speech went well and got lots of good feedback. Tutors have plans for me and think I’m great and passionate and blah.

Walked home in rain with L and J’s paper Primark bags which utterly collapsed. Was nearly drunk enough to forget the bus journey.

Want a boyfriend. Want to be drunk enough to ignore everything. Drinking is vey bad for me. Blehhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Went to sleep at about 3am, got up at 9.20. Started having hypnagogic hallucinations which were a bit distressing, especially when I could hear myself laughing through my dreams.

Wish I could live outside of my personal life. Like if I could live entirely as the cool and capable, if sweet and blushing, professional I can be.


Yesterday feels like a faded dream. It was nice to be a silly teenager again for an evening, running around and being teased by boys. I’ve been feeling a bit desperate for some affection.

I saw a video blog with Dr Francesc Colom on the Bipolar Foundation website which talks about the importance of tracking what you think or do rather than how you feel. It allows you to build up data so you can spot the warning signs of an episode. Sleep changes are the big ones for me along with a desire to smoke (mini self-destruct button). Here is my day:

Today I slept in until about 9.30am. I first woke up some time between 6.30am and 7am after going to bed at around 2.30-3am, then I was in and out for a couple of hours. Had some intensely detailed dreams. I got up, didn’t shower or have breakfast (haven’t made any bread) but bought a flapjack and a bottle of water at uni. Had a dreadful lunch of sausage roll, chips and gravy which I didn’t really want or enjoy. Barely spoke to anyone all day, people remarked on how quiet I’ve been, and was relieved to get out at the end of the day. I got home, sat down for an hour, squeezed the shit out of my face (I really, really need to stop – the scars on my cheeks are embarrassing and I wouldn’t have them if I didn’t keep scratching my face up) and then forced myself to have a good workout. I did 15 minutes of circuits (using the 7 App on my iPhone – I lost the plot with my old routine because I was so knackered after placement, the commute ruined me) then 50 sit ups, about a minute of peddling on my back, 50 clams, 40 side-lying leg lifts, and 4 x 50 arm exercises with my 1.5kg weights. Stretched down then had a shower. While I feel physically better my head still feels quite cloudy and disastrous (I think I’m fat and ugly, I don’t know what I’m doing, everything I’ve ever tried to make happen has been a failure while every accident has been great proving that I’m incapable of steering my life in the direction I want, I’m jealous of everyone, I’ll never find love etc – though reading these thoughts written down makes them look patently ridiculous).

I’m going to make a salad, clean up the kitchen and then watch telly. Might ring my mum. She rang me back yesterday and I was in no fit state to talk to her. She said some of the wrong things (like that I should be careful how ill I say I am in case I get kicked off my course, what the fuck) so I felt it best to just leave it and talk to L instead.

My friend L from uni is coming to stay tomorrow with her friend J after a gig, I’d completely forgot and am somewhat dreading it. I’m also speaking at an event tomorrow for uni and have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say. It’s only a couple of minutes so I’m sure I can make something up. Still, free sandwiches.

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L came round when I said I was poorly and didn’t know what to do. It gave me a reason to shower and get rid of the rubbish. We had fun at he pub, my friend T and I were flirting all evening and I was glad of some male attention as I was feeling like shit. Him, me, C and L ended up in a bus shelter for an hour shouting politics while he squeezed my arse. He has a girlfriend but I figured it was just banter and was a bit pissed. He kept stealing my headband and then grabbed me and kissed me outside the Uni toilets. I batted him away and told him off, that was too far and I wasn’t cool with it. Feel such a twat and am really angry that he’d do something like that. Flirting is flirting but that’s bollocks, especially as he tried to do the same thing to L on their walk home.

C is an arsehole and barely worth mentioning. As we walked home he asked me how I was only to launch into a diatribe about his ex girlfriend and what a cunt I-dawg is, even though he’s nothing of the sort.

Feel a lot better than I did earlier, really grateful to L for pulling me out of my tearful misery, but really sad that two people I thought were friends have been such shits. Makes me wonder what kind of jerk I am.

Smoked two cigarettes and had 4 pints. Am lying in bed tired but not sleepy.

I am in the absolute worst part of my cycle. I am really heavily on my way down and can’t stop thinking about killing myself. It feels unbearably painful. I can’t stop crying. I can’t get out of bed. I’ve been drawing on my wrists to try to soothe the urge to self harm. I really miss W. I feel so full of remorse. I’ve just tried ringing mum and dad but they’re not home. Reading stories of other people’s bipolar experiences makes it hit home that this is real. Hypomania is really hard to acknowledge though. It’s like you know exactly what you’re doing and what you want, plus you have supreme confidence that you can get it, but really it’s because you’re on some sensory binge because your chemicals are all fucked up. It has its perks but I don’t want to live like this anymore. At the moment I don’t want to live at all. I can’t find the energy or inclination to speak to anyone.

It seems like all the magical understanding and spiritual growth I’ve achieved in the past few months has been nothing but part of my illness. All those important thoughts are just a chemical imbalance for my cerebral diabetes. It is no wonder that I cannot hold down a relationship.

Curled up on the bed sobbing. I miss W so much. But it’s just a feeling. It’s all just part of my stupid fucking cycle. I am so sick of this, I have no idea what I really feel about anything or anyone. I feel like my heart has broken all over again.

I made it to the shop. I’m so emotionally incontinent today. I shuffled round Lidl like a zombie (it’s quieter and I have far less chance of running into anyone I know), I couldn’t look at anyone on the way past the bus stop or speak to the guy who served me. Then my friend T wanted to know if I was coming to the pub tonight and it made me cry, just because someone wants to see me. I managed to avoid buying crap (e.g. cereal, bread, processed stuff), aside from my usual fish fingers and a bar of white chocolate which I wish I hadn’t got, and included more fruit than usual. It just took so much energy, my legs feel numb. Then I got home and got impossibly angry with my friend L for her insensitivity without even speaking to her. I’ve felt really pissed off with her all week, not sure if I got overexposed to her last week or am jealous of her going to the pub/getting male attention or genuinely annoyed or if she’s just become the target of intimate rage in the absence of a boyfriend.

I’ve put the shopping away. I might attempt the bins. I don’t know if I want to go to the pub. I have to remind myself, just as when I’m high as a kite, that this all just a feeling and I’ve got to stick to my routine.

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Went to sleep at 3.30am, woke up at 11.50am. There is rubbish all over the kitchen. More than ever I need a cheerleader or someone to take me to the shops. I feel like I can’t figure out what I need or how to leave the house. I don’t want to shower, I don’t want to get dressed and I don’t want to do anything. I can’t even imagine exercising, all I want is to eat cereal and lie down and die. Even breathing feels like an effort, my chest feels so heavy. I want to go back to my dreams. I was go karting and swimming and eating ice creams and surrounded by people who is could’ve had sex with.

I’ve not had any trazodone for the past couple of nights. It feels like the insomnia I had as a kid and a teenager. I used the time to write something before I went to sleep. My head feels numb.

Got offered another sleep shift. I turned it down.

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I’ve just been reading this article about Max Clifford’s systematic grooming and sexual assault of young girls. It talks about how we discuss the sexual assault of women and girls in vague terms such as, well, grooming and sexual assault rather than describing in their true, shocking ugliness. It made me think about Very Bad Things. I’ve never gone into it in detail on here because I’m aware this is a public space and that anything you put on the internet can be seen by others. But it made me despise myself for the insipid term I chose to use. I’m not willing to talk about it on here but I’m thinking about it and it hurts.

I’m exhausted. I think I went to sleep around half 3 this morning. I woke up for the first time at 8, then dozed on and off until 9.20am when I had to get L up. I got home at about 9.55am. I’ve spent the morning/afternoon in bed watching films (so far Show Me Love and Some Kind of Wonderful) and ate a huge takeaway. Also went for a quick goodbye lunch at McDonalds with a friend who’s leaving today. I’m really glad I saw him but was so glad it was brief, I found it exhausting.

Just caught a glimpse of W through a mutual friend’s Facebook pictures. They’ve gone to Amsterdam this weekend. Just seeing the back of his head in a picture made me feel like sobbing/barfing. It hasn’t hurt in a while but with a glimpse it all rushed back and hit me in the stomach. I don’t know what that means, if anything. I hastily avoided it.

I lay awake thinking last night. I regret not having written far more diaries or blogs in my life. I sat and read through some of my recent posts and saw so much of myself. I wish I’d cared enough about what I thought as I was growing up. Instead it’s all just a smoky blur of drug addled ignorance. But I was younger and sillier and so very, very unhappy. I hated my first degree, I hated where I lived, I hated dropping out of uni, I hated all my relationships, I hated my friends, I hated myself. I finally know I’m in the right place and doing the right thing, plus when I’m unhappy I know it’s because I’m unwell. Or at least I think it is. I don’t know if I’ve made myself this way. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It’d just be nice to have a longer picture.

I feel really depressed today. I tortured myself in bed last night. I tried to lie there and take in the thick comfort of the duvet, listening to the fish tank bubble, but I just kept twitching with thoughts. I just don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m so tired I can’t think straight.

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Edgar Allen Poe-Faced

I didn’t fall asleep until at least 4am last night and woke at 11am today. I have felt a small swell of anger and anxiety pooling within me this evening, a barely there tension, but have felt a lot better since I came to work. Got incredibly frustrated and stressed while trying to organise my banking and finances (to the point where I was quite vicious with my dad on the phone – he does have a habit of overcomplicating things – but he was very understanding as he hates call centres too) and was at points incandescent with rage. It turns out that I’d made an error with an account number so my rent didn’t get paid but I’ve sorted it now, after much wailing and gnashing of teeth. It just took me rather a long time to come down.

Coming to work has been a real pleasure. I really like L and spending time at her home tonight has been dead nice. We’ve just quietly floated around each other, me assisting where necessary, but we shared a really nice moment as we flicked through her support plan together. Despite only meeting her briefly the other day we seem to have clicked and I’m pleased about that, even though I’m none too enthusiastic about the sleep shift itself. I just hope that all continues to go well and I do eventually get some sleep, though I doubt it’ll be L’s fault if I don’t.

I tried to have a small workout but it left me feeling a bit cranky and heavy. I didn’t have any trazodone last night and I’m going to try not to tonight, though I’ve brought it in case it gets to the wee hours and I really need some help getting drowsy. It’s not so much the nights that bother me but I know when I get up I’m going to feel rough. I can’t afford to nap after work.

I contacted someone after a silent week. After indulging a great many fantasies during last night’s sleepless ague I forgot how impenetrable he can be, particularly over Facebook. Small talk, nay talking in any form, is not his forte. Not sure how to play it. Going to take a bigger needle to get blood from this stone. Still, it’s all just an amusing fancy and something to do. Chasing boys is just another interest or hobby, a diversion from the unending tedium of existence which creeps its fingers up my back and around my throat. Not that I’m feeling morbid or anything. Just a bit of grumpy, gothic joie-de-vivre.

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