Asides

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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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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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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I am completely deluded. I am not ok with this bullshit. Any of it. I miss having someone around that really wants to spend time with me. I forgot that I am also someone else’s compromise, as much as they are mine. I have got to get over myself. I want to be modest, open-minded and willing to accept someone who might love me.

I am so bored I could die. I have spent the past few days locked in my tiny flat with nothing but my laptop for company.

That being said, I have spent the past few hours reading ‘What I’m Really Thinking’ on The Guardian and it would seem that nobody is happy. Ever. Everyone is always sat wanting what everyone else has got or, if they get the thing they want, it’s taken away from them and they are forced to live with disappointment and ghosts. How can we make peace with ourselves if all our desires come from outside? What is my truth? What the fuck am I supposed to be doing? How do we not all get crushed by the colossal weight of existential angst? I would say that this pontification is a self-indulgent luxury but that assumes that even the people in the lowest, shittiest situations don’t sit there going ‘how the hell did I get here?’ Of course they do, we are all conscious human beings. To think that only wears away the distinct edges of every individual and renders them mute. To exist in misery and to triumph over it, to accept and to kick against, the duality and multiplicity of human nature.

I am struck by how many people go ‘this is not permanent, this is not forever’. It is still reality. It is a continuous whole which exists only in the immediate. I sound like such an acid casualty but it’s the thought which makes my heart break and my soul want to leave my body. This is it. This is life, now. It is all it ever will be. The question is, what do I really want to be doing with it right now, in this instant, for that’s all it is?

I want to be held. I want to not feel so disappointed. I want to love someone and be loved in return. I want to be off my face on something interesting. I want to share these thoughts with someone who nods and goes ‘yes, yes, I understand’ and for the light of recognition to go on. I want to make peace with my own solitude. Then again, I want to be part of a team.

Welp, I just accidentally cut myself while slicing bread because I was in such a tizz. Proof that no matter what we do, the universe will carry out its cruel and unusual plans.

Probably time for bed. Jesus H wept.

OH SHIT WHY DID I SEND HIM A TEXT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH FUUUUUUUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I feel like it was either that or self harm. Maybe this is self harming. I should’ve just said ‘I’m not ready for that yet. Sorry x’. That was the original text. Now I’ve told him that I miss the dog. I have potentially started a conversation. I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE A CONVERSATION. WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I DONE.

Why can’t I just quietly pretend he doesn’t exist? FEELINGS ARE SHIT.

The thing about razorblades is that, while they cut easier and the cuts bleed more impressively, it just doesn’t hurt very much. I’d never used them before. It stings a bit and has made a nice mess but it just doesn’t hurt. I can’t tell if it’s just because I’ve cycled round and round. I’ve been really hostile and angry all day. Tonight I was edgy but excitable and fun and loud and silly. I kept moving and spreading my body outwards across the table, dominating the space. Then I just wanted to go home. I considered killing myself but I’ve never really wanted to die, even when I think about the various ways I could end my life. Cars and trains dominate. I just want the feelings to stop. I just want to feel ok. I’ve been binge eating today.

I’ve been reading about lamotrigine today. It seems to be highly effective for BPII and has only a few minor (if any) side effects. There is the chance of developing a rash which will literally kill you (Steven-Johnson Syndrome) but hey, at least you don’t get fat. Think I’m going to ask my psychiatrist for it. I don’t want to be fat, sexless and sedated by quetiapine unless I really have to be. Let me shoot for the stars before I sit in the gutter. I read a lot of reviews online which proclaimed so much love for lamotrigine, how it gives people their lives back and allows them to just be. The people who’ve reacted badly to it miss it. I think it’s worth a shot. I really want to commit to being well and then one day I can maybe, truly and honestly, ask for forgiveness from those I’ve hurt. I’m just so angry that I’ve been given no resources – I do want to be well but what the fuck am I supposed to do without therapy or proper medical intervention? I feel like I’m being set up to fail. 

I’ve been snapping my elastic band all day. I don’t know if it actually helps or just lets me self-harm discreetly all day. I’m trying to stop squeezing spots and picking my face as I’ve started to leave scars. The band helps with that but the underlying desire to damage myself isn’t going anywhere.

My usual four pints have left no dent in me. I feel like I’ve been on vibrate this evening. Now I’m nothing, save for a little sting in my thigh.

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