Archive | March, 2012

Why Me?

21 Mar

Dear Diary,

My mood slumped last night and I could feel it happening. That happy-go-lucky heart of mine lost its hypomanic sparkle and I crashed to a place where worry, anger and tears are the norm.  I read about Bipolar II Disorder and I wondered if that’s what’s wrong with me. My eyes drank in the words until I felt like my head was going to explode and then I slammed my laptop shut because I couldn’t stomach anymore. The list of symptoms I was reading, they were describing how I’ve been feeling! The depressive lows are becoming worse and I’m scared one day I will drown in my misery because the suicidal feelings are stronger and stronger each time the darkness infects my mind. I’m not saying I’m depressed now, just slightly miserable, but I know the depression is coming for me.

I woke up today and sighed because I had to contact the psychiatrist again. They said they would call yesterday, there was no phone call, and so it was up to me to see what the hell was happening. I realise when I look back now that I’m starting to get snappy with people again. I’m irritated at the slightest of things and that isn’t normal. I’m usually more pleasant in social circles, but my brain isn’t having any of that today. I guess I’m going to have to live like this until early May because they won’t give me medication until I sit through another appointment. Joy of fucking joys, I thought, this is just what I need! Now I’m going away on holiday none the wiser and wondering if any doctor will ever take my worries seriously.

Yes, I’m off to Heathrow next Tuesday and part of me can’t wait to get away from England because I need some time to pull myself together. I’m scared of a diagnosis like Bipolar because it’s a lifelong illness and even with medication, it’s always going to be there. I’m scared my life will never change for the better and most of all, I’m scared because I’ve always known I was different, but I never knew it was a mental illness making me act this way. I’d come to terms with the depression label a long time ago and now that process has to begin again because pitiful lows signal major depression, but coupled with those beautiful highs I’ve been experiencing, I feel completely out of my depth.

Yesterday I was convinced every time I stood at the bus stop a bus would come hurtling down the street right away because I was lucky. I had two days of this, Monday and Tuesday, where I felt on top of the world and I could do no wrong. I would stand at the bus stop for no longer than a few minutes and the transport would arrive and I’d be grinning manically. I even told a woman as we were standing there that I was lucky and she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. She was complaining because she had been standing there for twenty five minutes and I told her not to worry because each time I arrive at the bus stop the bus soon rolls in. Of course when that happened straight away, I became even more convinced I was on a lucky streak. I should point out I no longer feel this way at all. It vanished when I came back to Earth with a bump and now I’m left wondering what the heck I was doing Monday and Tuesday. I mean, I know what I was doing, but why was I acting that way?

I’ve never believed in luck before and I certainly don’t court it or babble about it when I’m depressed or my usual miserable self. So is that a symptom of Bipolar, a tie in with hypomania or am I losing my mind completely? I’m sitting here right now thinking about all these things and I don’t know what to do. Part of me doesn’t want to be patient and wait until May because I need this all to be sorted right this second. Another part of me wants to run away from this because I don’t want to be told I’m crazy and that’s how I feel, absolutely crazy.

I tried to talk to my mum about everything and she shot me down straight away. She said I shouldn’t be listening to other people because there’s nothing wrong with me and I need to get a job and get on with my life. If I was being honest I would say it crushed me to hear those words because all I wanted was a little support. But I’m not being honest though, so not one word bothered me and I don’t care what she has to say on the subject. I’m not lazy and I’m not selfish, I’m hurting, I’m scared and I feel all alone.

I’ve been told families are supposed to be supportive and if that’s the case, what the hell happened to mine? I think mines broken, just like my brain and I can’t fix either of them. But what I am going to do is try and focus on the positives. I’m going on holiday in six days and if this is Bipolar I guess I’m in good company. Perhaps there’s a reason why I’m far more creative and like to toss around words until I’m the puppet master of paragraphs? Whatever the reason, I’m thankful I find the writing process so therapeutic because it helps to post here; it really does, especially on a day like today.

Well, Well, Well, What Do We Have Here Then?

19 Mar

Dear Diary,

I don’t know where to start really, my mind is racing at such a speed, I feel like my neck is going to break. This morning I had an appointment with a psychiatrist and I was finally given an answer. I guess I should see this as a positive experience because the lady was lovely, but I didn’t really receive the answer I was hoping for. Somewhere deep in my heart I knew it was always a possibility because my moods aren’t stable and haven’t been since November, yet when those words left the woman’s lips, I couldn’t quite believe it. Me? I thought, but I have depression! I’m depressed! The doctors I’ve spoken to have always told me I suffer from depression! 

When I left the stark white office I didn’t have the time to digest the information because I had to rush to the Jobcentre. Yes, all that trouble I caused myself when I snapped at the sullen faced advisor has been dealt with now. My local Jobcentre relented and I’m still searching for a job. But now I have this niggling feeling inside me because Christ, who the hell would want me to work for them?

After the Jobcentre, I went to Mind and I sat in another office, but this time I was in front of a computer. I like my volunteer job, I really do. It’s helping my confidence and brick by nervous brick, I’m beginning to shed my terror at holding another job.  And the brilliant people at Mind helped me snatch my benefits back after I lost them due to no fault of my own. Well, those snappy words did leave my lips, the depressed tears did roll down my cheeks and I did have a little breakdown at my local Jobcentre, but now I have a reason for that!

I left Mind early today because I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I knew I needed to go home and put everything I had learnt today into perspective. Of course with me being my usual disorganised and clumsy self, I’m still trying to come to terms with the tsunami in my head. My brother did take me out to lunch though, which was a sweet gesture and the baguette was beautiful. But back to the main point I’m trying desperately to explain before my head implodes…

The psychiatrist said I was currently in a Hypomanic state. Add the severely depressed episodes into the equation and what do you have? A mood disorder, possibly Bipolar.

Well, fuck.

FUCK.

FUCK.

FUCK!

Why does this have to happen to me now!? I was beginning to really understand my depression, the triggers and what I could do to make myself feel a little better. But now my life has another twist, a turn and everything is up in the air. I know there are different types of Bipolar disorders and I don’t know what I have. To be honest, I think it’s difficult to diagnose in the first place and I just want to tear my hair out. Although there is one side to this illness I’m quite taken with: The creativity. I’m being doused in flames of words, thoughts and ideas to the point where I’m jumping from one thought to another. It’s a constant rush and it’s making me feel queasy but compared to depression, this is a walk in a pretty, little park with ten foot flowers and a famous Beatle on every corner.

I love the creative side to this, even though I just stopped myself from decorating the house the other week. There are these small tubes of paint downstairs and I really wanted to splatter the walls with bright colours and express myself like a true artist. I should probably note here that I’m not an artist and I can’t paint, draw or create masterpieces. Although if I tried… You see what’s happening?  My thoughts are so pure, happy and fluffy they’re telling me I can do anything or be anyone! It’s only when I write these things down do I wonder if my brain is trying to get me in trouble.

Oh, bollocks. I don’t know what to do right now.  I slept about four hours last night, I fell asleep for at least an hour and a half earlier and although my body tells me I need sleep, my mind is hurtling away from me and I don’t want to wrangle with it. This isn’t depression and I don’t want to die. There are no deep, dark, bleak, black thoughts so why should I be trying to calm myself down? This is a much needed and loved run of happiness and long may it continue!