Coping

Hello there! It’s very late, as I have just returned from one of my forays in the Really Real World.

I’ve been extremely antisocial lately.  I almost lost the ability to converse in the flesh;  I found my words tripped and spiralled and I didn’t know what to say, because there was too much to say.   How long has it been since I asked someone how they are?   Today I’ve been out twice.  I went for a cup of tea in the greasy spoon with my friend, where I fought the ever-present tremor my medication gives me by bravely spilling both my drinks and apologising for shaking like a geriatric alcoholic.  Then I went to another friend’s club night, feeling as though I had emerged from a decade wrapped in plastic, in a warehouse somewhere, waiting to be found, having given up shouting, having given up on ever making a sound again.   The world is baffling and new.

For the past six weeks I have barely worn make up or brushed my hair, and I have felt unwomanly, even though by all accounts I was experiencing the most womanly experience that womanly women experience.   It was strange to stand in company in eyeliner, to dance, to laugh and to be dressed up.    I am trying to ease myself into sociability again.   I haven’t felt alone even though I isolated myself, but I do still jump a little at the sound of someone else’s voice.

Thank you for all your lovely kind comments and e-mails.   I was so frightened the reaction would be horrible, so it was a great relief, and support.  I am, and have been for ages, behind in all correspondance.  I have had, as you can appreciate, a lot on my mind, and I’ve been going through it all privately.   I haven’t really felt up to replying to things.  

I don’t have much to say.  I attended my first CPN appointment in over a month on Thursday.  The “team” has moved, and surreally they have moved to a building almost exactly identical to the old one, save for slightly darker blue chairs and even more exposed wiring.  We talked a little about what’s been going on lately, but I haven’t felt like talking about it, I still don’t.   What is there left to say now?

She broached the subject of the future, but I sidestepped it.  I don’t want to think about that, either.  Not in terms of children.  It is a question I have had to think about for years due to health issues; if this has taught me anything, it’s that this is not the time to think about it, that I wouldn’t be ready anyway no matter how much I hypothesised.

I have to take a pregnancy test in another two weeks but I know I’m not pregnant.  Not only by the excruciating, shocking pain that heralded the end, but I knew I was pregnant instinctively, now I know I am not.  My cravings have disappeared, and so, largely, has the exhaustion, although I am still very tired.   I haven’t been sleeping well at all.  The hunger and the nausea has gone, replaced with an indifference to food.  My moods have calmed down and settled into a sort of blankness.  After the storms comes the silence.  Sometimes I am rushed by sadness.

And there is the emptiness, the little emptiness.

I am coping, better than I thought I would be, which makes me feel callous.  It is in part not thinking about it, nor ruminating on all the issues of self worth/self worthlessness that it raised.  I was spiralling into a horrible place, and now I am clawing myself back out.  I don’t know if I’ll continue to feel okay or not. It comes and goes. I feel bad that I’m relieved to have my body back, but to me, where body control is an issue, it was terrifying to be aboard a vessel I couldn’t steer.  

For now what I would like to do is start properly writing again and to conquer my inertia.  I think I had a life to return to.

20 Responses

  1. *squish*

    Take care of yourself.

  2. I am glad you have been out and about a bit. I cannot imagine how hard things have been for you recently and I am in awe of the strength you have found to pull through.

    Your in my thoughts, I’m willing you onward to brighter days.

    Dom

  3. You’re a very strong woman, Seaneen. Keep up the good work.

    *hugs*

  4. I hope the clawing goes well.
    xx

  5. It may come across as patronising for me to tell you how brave you are, but so be it.

    Take care.

  6. I am glad to know you’re doing better. Now, don’t ask too much to yourself: you’ve proven yourself really strong, but don’t overdo it…

  7. Please do take a break: see friends, go out, without overdoing it of course, but do feel there is a net of people around you that care and love you.

    G.

  8. Careful with that antisociability: this IS modern Britain ~ next thing you know you’ll have an AntiSocial Behaviour Order slapped on you

    Well I don’t blame you for doing what you did. I saw the Stephen Fry bipolar documentary the other day, there was a woman on there saying she just cannot risk having a baby and the dr said puerpal bipolar can incur some of the most extreme psychotic states in all psychiatry…

  9. *Hugs*

    Just wish I could give you a real one.

  10. Keep clawing your way back out and take care. I wish there was something more I could say but I simply don’t know what to say, keep up the social stuff though, eventually it’ll probably help x

  11. I wouldn’t say that you are callous. Not at all. Everyone deals with crisis in there own way. Your way is no less than any other. Just deal with it in your own way in your own time, no apologies.

    Take care of yourself.

  12. *Hugs*

    Which probably isn’t enough but I cannot think of the words I want to say.

    Take care of yourself, you’re very precious.

    xx

  13. Hang in there Seaneen, your blog is a source of inspiration for many people. It helps us understand that our feelings are not uncommon, even if we can’t articulate them as effectively as you do.

    Sometimes just knowing that you aren’t the only person in the world feeling or thinking a certain way can be a huge comfort.

  14. Your doing so well and I hope you read my message.
    x

  15. I’m glad you’re coping and I hope you continue to heal. Best wishes for everything in your life to come. You are not only a great writer and extremely interesting individual but also such a strong, brave and beautiful woman. Thank you for sharing your life with the internet tubes, even when the truth might be you flamed!

  16. It’s good to hear you are coping and guarding your well-being as best you can. You’ve done a good thing in recognizing you were heading for a bad place and clawing back. One day at a time i ‘spose,

    louise x

  17. Whatever next…

  18. I think all you are going through right now is perfectly natural for anyone even more so when you have such a difficult mental health illness. Take it one day at a time x

  19. I like this blog. I’ve been googling bipolar blogs and most of them have not been updated in months (or even years). Your blog roll gives me a lot to explore. Thank you for providing all this information. It really does make a difference.

  20. I am trying not to wallow,I see so many things in you, I have.-Even when I’m sick and depressed I still love life,(Arthur Rubenstein)–but out of the blue, I start ruminating, I can’t stop——-and then there’s those moments when my brain goes into ‘brain hell’ and I can’t think and feel like I’ve been thrown into a complete mental ‘drunk’, full of anguish, confusion,fear, and I can’t ‘get’ out. Has anyone had this? What in the name of God is it? How do we go on?

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