Regrouping.

The Spiky Sea Urchin has been trying to claim me.

“The old brag of my heart- I am, I am, I am”.

Okay.  After a good ten days of my activities mostly consisting of thinking of inventive ways in which I can hang myself (“Do you have a plan?” Oh yes.), chainsmoking, wanting to throw myself out of a window because of guilt and grief and crying, it’s time to regroup.

I haven’t been answering any correspondence and am seriously behind in…everything.  Many thanks for people who’ve written to me but coherant thought has not been forthcoming.  I have been really ill for a while, waaaaaaaaay more than I have let on, and it’s coming to a head.  The abortion, which was a decision I had to make because of this stupid fucking illness that I didn’t ask for, kicked me over the edge. I’m off to be gently chastised by my CPN (and strongly suspect that it shall be suggested that I’ve been suffering from dysphoric mania, because I have) later in the first appointment in a month that I’ve not ingeniously dodged.

It’s funny, that the more I rebel against my illness and my treatment, the worse my illness gets, thus entrenching me even further in the role of Seriously Mentally Ill Woman, a role I have been desperate to shake off, hoping that if I did, then it would all disappear, and I wouldn’t disintegrate with the despair of another 12, 20, 40 years having to live with this horrendous life-ruining, beauty-destroying “bipolar disorder, y’know, the artist’s one, the one it’s cool to have,  the one that’s killed people, and is killing me and that means nobody trusts a word I say and some are afraid of me or disgusted by me or just gets plain hurt by me.  That one”.   I have been trying desperately to escape it.

I’ll write about it all later.  I need to come back to life.  That’s what all the changes have been for, but christ, it’s so difficult when life has been hurling shit at me endlessly, and I lost the will to live and the ability to.  I am going to live, I am going to make my life better and not make anyone else’s worse anymore.  I will not let this illness destroy something beautiful and break my heart ever again because I’m going to fucking deal with it, proper.  First stop: oh ye gads, I’m asking for therapy.  Me and therapy weren’t friends, but let’s try again.

I’m not thinking really straight at the moment.  I’m going on gut instincts, which may mislead me, but I am trying, very hard.

BUT!  I have been keeping myself busy, social and also a bit drunk, so have not slid into despair.  And I am very aware of how fortunate I am, have been, to be loved.

Oh, and my benefits still aren’t sorted.  I was preparing myself to go and sit in the housing benefit office for an hour today, then I coughed so violently I vomited over myself.  Maybe I should turn up like this, and point to my greening top and say, “You make me sick”.  Har.

17 Responses

  1. I’m glad you’re going to live. I’m glad you’re asking for therapy.

    ((((((((((Seaneen))))))))))

  2. Good for you, deciding to regroup. Well, I say ‘deciding’ – your mood must have changed to something slightly more positive to feel this way, but it sounds like you’re working with it.

    “the more I rebel against my illness and my treatment, the worse my illness gets”

    Well, I hate to say it, but yes, that is going to happen.

    Although, It isn’t exactly your fault – from what you’ve said in previous posts, it sounds like your psychiatrist isn’t being to creative or supportive with further medication options.

    Have you asked about Topiramate before? It should be a possibility. I also still think an antidepressant could work – but starting at sub-pharmacological doses and titrating slowly with frequent reviews.

    Additionally, you’ve never mentioned – does your monthly cycle have any effect on your moods?

    • PC sorry to butt in, and forgive me for probably asking a really stupid question…does monthly cycle have an impact? My moods are haywire at the best of times but just before p arrives my moods sink to the floor and I’m convinced i will have topped myself by the end of the week. I never really have linked the two but it seems so obvious now!

      • I ask as a proportion of females with mental illness (any mental illness) find it worsens around the time of their period. This could indicate a separate disorder of PMDD. In either case, there are treatment options. This may involve increasing the dose of a medication you’re already receiving or taking an AAP or benzo the week before your period is due. For a more targeted approach, this will initially involve taking birth control pills (NB: make sure the person prescribing them is knowledgeable about PMDD and doesn’t place you on the most popular brand). This may or may not help. However, it might be appropriate to send you to a gynecologist, where they may suggest something like Zoladex or invasive treatments depending on the severity of the condition.

        In any event, discuss it with your doctor/psychiatrist as there are options for treatment.

  3. Maybe I should turn up like this, and point to my greening top and say, “You make me sick”. Har.

    That would be too funny!

    I’m so glad to read this post, I’ve been worrying about you.

  4. Hope things go okay today and you get your hands on some decent therapy. Take care. Thinking of you x

  5. “the more I rebel against my illness and my treatment, the worse my illness gets”

    It’s funny that. How illness and treatment get lumped together. Sometimes I feel that if it wasn’t for all the treatments I wouldn’t feel like I had an Illness at all. At other times I feel positive that the treatments are causing more harm than the illness ever managed, and what’s even worse is the idea that over time with successful treatment the Illness will seem to go away. But the treatments never will.

    Maybe your treatments should not feel like something you need to rebel against, but instead something you lurch towards in times of need. You and those close to you are most well equiped to modify and improve upon your therapies because you have the greatest understanding and experience of them. Take your ideas to your CPN, pdoc or anyone else you’re seeing just to check that they’re not totally loopyloo then try putting them into practise.
    Drinking is a therapy, as is shouting, food, cups of tea, biscuits, bad telly, good friends and doubting squirrels. Some are more helpful than others, others feel like they help but actually make things worse.

    I spent a glorious afternoon last summer, (a period when most people doubted that I could dress myself without causing injury), hacking at bushes with a chainsaw.

    Gardening therapy might not be new but feeling somewher between Edward Scissorhands and driller killer cheered me up no end. I just kept thinking about how much anyone, anyone of my “healthy” friends, would have enjoyed it. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on “real life” any more and it made me feel good.

    (Just realised I’ve got far too many quotation-marks written here and if I’d been speaking outloud I ‘d look like a somewhat like a cross between a demented bunny impersonator and a total nob)

    Be lucky
    and Thanks, again, for being here

    x

  6. I’m glad to read this post too. I’d also been worrying about you. It does sound like something has changed a little to allow you to see through the illness and the gloom.

    I wish I could get some of your courage and strength to want to beat the evil illness. It’s so easy to give up and let it defeat us. I hope that you can be an inspiration for those of us who are also struggling.

    Good luck and take care xx

  7. I’m glad your giving therapy another try. I think it really works if you open up to it.

    I hope all the bad events start to subside and that there are some better things in the near future for you.

    I have been stung by a sea urchin by the way, really not pleasant.

    Dom

  8. Good to have you back & to hear you’re going to try therapy again. Pete & Dud on listen again (BBCi) radio 7 until tonight. Most of it familiar stuff but still makes me laugh including the reasonable psychiatrist sketch.

  9. Hurrah, good to see you blogging🙂

    You probably know I’m a huge advocate of therapy or should it be for therapy? Anyways I’m glad that you’re trying it again, I know it doesn’t work for everyone though.

    Hope the appointment with the cpn went ok, let us know
    *hugs*
    Helen(a)

  10. I too am glad you are back, I have missed your messages. Therapy can be good if the therapist is good, hope you find a great one x

  11. Nice to see you back.

  12. God what a relief it was to find a web page like this. I am now sat here crying because apart from when they put me in the loonie bin I have never been able to find anyone who can even remotely begin to understand how I feel.

    I am on the very black side of manic depression (I know it’s politically correct to call it bipolar but when I was 1st dianosed I was manic depressive and I’m kind of attached to that illness) just now. I know what it feels like to constantly dwell on hanging. I have tried about four or five overdoses so far so am obviously pretty shit at them – although in all fairness the last one would have worked if the husband (mine, not a random one) had not come home from work hours early because his workmate had chronic toothache. Now I have decided I will hang myself, I even tried it out in the loonie bin last year and discovered the rails that hold up the bedside curtains are made of shite.

    I haven’t had the fortune of a sympathetic chat from a CPN as my experiences of CPNs are pretty shit. I phoned one on Monday and he swore blind he would phone me back that day with a view to upping my Lithium dose and also giving me something to get me through this BLACK. That was Monday, he said he would phone me back that day. Today is Wednesday so he is a liar and there is something very fundamentally wrong with people like that fucking up the heads of already fucked up people. I thought I knew how to vent my spleen and I complained to a higher power and they haven’t even bothered to acknowledge my email. I love these bastards.

    Sometime people ask me what is my worst habit – I tell them I have a tendancy to breathe.

    Why can’t the bloody people that are supposed to help actually do what they are paid for?

    Rant over. Sorry folks. Very bad time just now xxx

  13. ((HUG)). Nice to have you back😉. I hope the therapy gives you some relief.

  14. Firstly: know exactly what you mean about life hurling shit at you. It sent me into a ‘strange’ place, yet again, recently. You have all the sympathy I can send via a message on a website.

    Secondly, nothing is fixed in stone, least of all manic depression. Personally, I think it is a healthy thing to rebel against the ghastly paradigm that gets forced between one’s teeth yet still keep a weather-eye on yourself and make calm when calm is required most utmostly.🙂

    Thirdly, there’s nothing ‘cool’ about having it. But I personally find that I’m most creative when I’m heading skywards. It’s what you do with the inspiration that is the real bugger. It’s being able to remember that there are things such as pencil and paper and scribbling when high that is difficult.

    I wish I had the answer to that. But speaking for myself, I’ve found the times I’ve taken ‘advantage’ of those states I’ve been completely subsumed by them, and going with them, and refusing to go too far… keeping the lid on.

    I have found it much harder the last two years than I used to. But I put much of that down to stress and secondarily, the damn pills that took away my normal mental and emotional agility. Yes, I’m coping, badly, unmedicated, but better for me than coping suicidally while medicated.

    Sorry to clog your comment box, but your post plucked a fibre of my heart, and the resonance may as well echo here.

    Keep safe, you’re valued far more than you believe. Maybe more than you’ll ever believe if you’re half like me. But keep safe anyway.

    Dx

  15. Keep in there Seaneen. This, too, shall pass.

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