manage my Bipolar disorder

i quit taking all my medication exactly two months ago.
my mom says that i’m a bit of a pain in the ass. have sudden moments of aggression. i’m irritated by every single thing. stupid things make me burst into tears.

what is sad is that i only feel better when i drink or do cocaine. i feel so much better. i know it’s wrong, but i sometimes think that maybe it’s the only way i can cope with everything? ugh. awful.

i usually completely go out of my mind in the fall. full-blown mania completely took my breath away in october/november last year and i remember having memory loss from what i was doing at that time. oh the embarassment and horror. skipping university. going out 5-6 times a week like a sick freak to 3-4 clubs a night. ending up in the damn BLC always and throwing up in the toilet. had my bag stolen in that toilet 2 times. remember even dropping all my credit cards on the toilet floor and walking away. going home at 7 am with hell knows who. getting my stuff stolen from my flat. going to university sometimes and falling asleep and falling from the chair in the middle of the lecture. everyone asking me if they can get some cocaine from me. losing all my friends at once and making new ones. i don’t even remember their names. testing myself for HIV. acting like a complete asshole. and finally, getting fatter every single fucking day. cherished memories. not.
i am getting more depressed every day. i don’t want to repeat the events of last summer. i was around 140 last june when i went into hospital in kent and spent 7 weeks there like a sad little person. i went out weighing 152 and was very hyper and calm at the same time. my psychiatrist had a heart attack not so long after and i was assigned a new one and from then on it all went downhill again. it’s not happening this time. god, i don’t want to go back to lithium.

I just want to be able to catch myself and stop making the same mistakes and at the very least learn to explain myself and what I feel more effectively.

i basically just want to never take any medication at all. never ever again.
last year i quit taking my medication but in about a month and a half i got a nervous breakdown coupled with an eating disorder and was sent to a hospital.
i was put on medication again, but i quit taking it again in the end of april and even though i don’t feel great, i don’t feel that bad.

since i’ve been on lithium not only i gained like a cow, but i got retarded (i can’t concentrate on anything anymore, i quit university and i honestly don’t give a shit about anything that i used to care about anymore) and i can’t sleep. my joints hurt and i have RLS, as well. i used to be so obsessed with gym a year ago. i would walk 30 mins to the gym (instead of taking a bus or tube) and would spend 80/100 mins on the treadmill or elliptical, then would do some weight lifting and walk back home. now i can’t even take a walk in the park. ugh. failure.

i just don’t want to go back to lithium. i tried everything else. nothing works.

to remember to take my meds in the morning. Does anyone have any suggestions for making this easier?

I feel a bit better. Wikipedia has all the pictures. Some people say you could decorate the kitchen wall with these pictures, it wouldn’t matter. My interpretation of the pictures is only a tiny factor in the evaluation of the test. And it offers only a starting point for the therapy which later can be modified if necessary. So it’s not like an exam. I hope so. I can’t afford to get misdiagnosed and getting wrong medication for years again.

I had some fun looking up funny sites about inkblot tests. It made the whole process look less scary. I just have to get there somehow, staying calm. Being patient is really hard sometimes.

No idea what to tell to the therapist. I feel perfectly empty. I miss my ups. And I must pretend I feel good for 4 hours and chitchat with the neigbours while we are going to the therapist (and back home) in their car. It drains all my energy. And there are so many happy people, doctors walking around watering the flowers, laughing happily, telling to other patients how great they are doing, it makes me feel a total failure. But I must smile and try to say something that shows how I appreciate their progress when I would like to scream: “what about me? When will I get better? Why I’m sitting here again? How many more years must be wasted like this?” And it makes me feel guilty. It really freaks me out just to think of it all. How could I tell this to a therapist? And I have to take an inkblot test. Next time they will send me to a fortune teller? Sometimes it’s hard to believe it all is happening to me.

Today was the first day I actually noticed a change in my mood other than just a general sense of not feeling bad. There is someone at work who has just been grating on my nerves for a few weeks now, to the point where I was finding myself being visibly annoyed with them. I bristled whenever they talked to me and would avoid them. And today I noticed it wasn’t that way.

Which is fantastic!

I went to my doctor on Wednesday, and he was surprised that I didn’t tell him everything was fine. I had been nervous that I’d let him down or he’d be disappointed in me, but he wasn’t. I knew he wouldn’t be. I suppose I should say the rational part of me knew it. He upped my meds and suggested I start seeing my therapist again. She must have become really popular since I last saw her because I wasn’t able to get in until mid July.

I know the increased dosage can’t have taken effect yet, but I feel much better already. I think it’s believing I’m back on track that’s making up the difference between where I was and where I need to be.

Situations like this make me realize that while I may have found a medication that works well for me, and I may have a strong support system, I am not cured. I will never be cured. I will be maintaining, and that is the most I can hope for. I’m glad I’m at a point in my life to understand that this is a good thing, and not a burden I’ll have to deal with.

I love 43T. This is the perfect outlet, since there are so many people here who can relate. Thank you for that.

I wonder how people do it when they say they’re “fine” all the time. What does that even mean? There have been few times in my life when all I’ve felt was fine. Right now, for example, I’ve got so many feelings swirling around inside me that I’m not sure I’d know how to answer if someone asked how I was.

Mostly I’m feeling a thick black tar swallowing me whole. For about the past week I’ve felt really off. I thought it was hormones at first, but now I’m not convinced. I’ve got the tell-tale signs I always see: I hate everything, but apathy is preventing me from doing anything. I want to sit and stare at nothing. I feel like my chest is collapsing into itself. The effort to breathe is sometimes overwhelming. And tears are at the edges of my eyes, threatening to roll down my cheeks at all times. Tonight I went to the grocery store for no reason other than I knew getting to my apartment would mean the black-hole swallowing my insides would start to spread. I stood in the frozen food section and couldn’t make myself move. I don’t know how long I was there, but it scared me.

I can’t be losing it again. I’ve been well for too long. Things are decent right now. Sure, there’s a lot that could be better, but I should be okay. I shouldn’t feel like I’m moving in slow motion when the rest of the world isn’t.

I always get so scared to say these things to my doctor. I don’t want to disappoint him, which is ridiculous beyond measure. At least I’m rational enough to recognize that.

Even when I feel nothing I feel more than I want to. The sound of my craziness seems to be screaming in my ears. I’m too frozen in space to try to make it stop. I need someone to rescue me, but there’s no superhero headed my way. I can’t remember feeling so alone.

I hate having to put on a happy face for everyone. I just want someone who will allow me to have emotions. Ups and downs.

I need someone to hold my hand while I try to pull myself out of this.

Right now, sitting in my room, listening to Oistrakh fiddle Lalo on my record player, my curtains wide open, sunlight seeping in, I am perfectly fine. There is nothing to be afraid of or depressed about, and neither am I agitated or painfully energetic or electrified. There is nothing but the now, a recorded violin, the floor like mud. I don’t know how long this peace will last.

I was diagnosed as bipolar with psychosis almost two years ago, but I had exhibited psychotic symptoms for years before that and depression as long ago as freshman year. Ever since, I have been on and off a medley of medications, the most recent of which are lithium and Risperdal. Given my disposition, I’d say that I was mostly off. Understandably, that did not work out too well.

Now I am on my 1350 mg of lithium a day again, and I’m taking a mental health year off from school and study to unwind and stabilize. Half of my year will be spent working intensively with my psychiatrist to achieve balance. As for the other half, I don’t know yet. (Some things I want to do but am not yet sure how to begin, having been away from this world for so long: volunteer in the Children’s Hospital, meet with a mood disorder support group, help out with the homeless.)

I’m reminded now of an old, photocopied photograph I have, a black and white image of a stern bowler-hatted man standing on a train. Below him is a painstakingly lettered poster: “I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way..”