Drive in
Like, imagine how cool it would be if you could walk into a fast food joint and ask for ' a hypomanic episode please with no agitation, side order of sexual liberation and a good healthy dollop of personal magnatism on the side'.
What a nice dream......*sigh*.....
mostly (and I don't know if this is true of everyone with bipolar 2) you spend a lot of your time in that 'grey' area where you are merely existing ( I wouldn't really call it living). Medications stunt all your emotions ( even the good ones, no matter what some docs tell ya) so you end up feeling flat.
I miss the hypomania, all I seem to experience these days is that grey thing, sometimes ( according to my doc) I get mania with agitation, all I remember feeling is VERY irritable and VERY snappy and NOT a very nice person....
So, I have a question, and I wonder if anyone can answer me...
what is it like to be non mentally interesting? are your emotions like ours? do you just have grey days? what is your perception of people with mental illness?
Thursday, 22 March 2007
Risk assessment.....along came Polly
Here I refer to the showing of the film staring Ben Stiller and Jenifer Aniston and their wacky relationship.....a breath of fresh air it was watching that last night. The character of Polly was one of reckless abandon ( not unlike people in the grip of a hypomanic episode) and happiness, and it reminded me of days gone by when I used to be like that. That was BEFORE someone told me that the way I behaved was not normal and that I was mentally ill.
Maybe it was the little things that gave it away, the late nights spent drinking to oblivion with any workmates that I could find, desperate for company, desperate to use up some energy and desperately looking for attention, any attention, just to feel valid. Maybe it was the continous slew of young men (some of them so young they were only just legal!) that trolled up the stairs to my flat night after night to try to satiate my overwhelming sexual urges. Maybe it was the sneeky 'cat naps' that I would take underneath my friends chair in the office, the always coming in late, hungover, irritable and dressed like a hooker. Maybe it was the fact that every guy I got involved in suddenly became a huge focus in my life and that if I had a relationship I thought I would feel better, instead of the incredible aching loneliness that I felt.
I am embarrased to say that I pretty much stalked one unfortunate guy, to the point that I was texting and calling like a 'woman possessed' . The crazy thing is, I wasn't really into him, I was into the whole idea of being in a relationship, and he happened to be the poor unfortunate that my eggs rested on, and my legs wrapped round for a short spell.
Crash, bang, wallup, what a mess!
I decided I needed a holiday, I was in the throws of mania and I had stuff to do!! So I went to see my friend in Madrid and took another guy( french, as it happens) that I was conquesting with me.
My inflated idea of grandiosity believed that he would be putty in my hands, he would woo me and we would have a very romantic weekend.
I must have possessed a wild and strange look and some wierd behaviour, as on our first night in Madrid, he proclaimed ' I am sorry, I cannot do this' in his thick parisian accent.
I spent the next 7 hours crying hysterically into my pillow. I didn't sleep. He, being male, and french, so possessing a barrel of arrogance, slept.
The next day I was in shreds, and the day after, until we returned back to London, I got drunk on the plane ( we were travelling business class and I caned the champagne), and then got into a taxi and called one of my friends ( male), who suggested I come over so that he could console me.
Which he did. Console me, that is. And the other thing.
No blame
The guys that I beetled towards had no idea, they just thought that I was 'hot' for them, so they automatically gave them what it was that they percieved I wanted.
Overdose
Then it happened, I took an overdose of paracetamol, which is something I wouldn't recommend. Long story short, I ended up in A&E, one of my friends (male), took me there, and left me there.
I was referred to the Mental Care unit on my release, they decided that I had bipolar disorder.
They prescribed antidepressants, I took them. I had no idea what this meant, where to go to for help, support or advice. The antidepressants made me sweat and smell rancid.
I was living alone in my one bedroom flat after my husband had left me earlier in the year.
The report that the social worker wrote had a sum up of my 'history' and described me as 'vulnerable'.
The saddest thing of all was that when I told my mother she didn't believe me. In fact, for the first year, my family ignored me. It was the loneliest time I have ever had. They even left me alone at Christmas.
Too much too young
It wasn't the first time that I had overdosed. I did it a lot. No-one thought it was wierd particularly when I was 17 and engaged to my first husband ( yes, there has been 2!) and I took an overdose of the sleeping pills that our local GP had prescribed ( I wasn't sleeping). I ended up in a coma for 5 days and they sent me to a phychiartrist after that for an 'assessment'. He told my family I needed a holiday.
So, they sent me to Paris with my fiance. I had a sore where the drip had been in my mouth.
No-one thought it was wierd. Even I insisted that it was ' an accident' and didn't remember a thing about the incident, what led me to do it or why.
Strange............
Maybe it was the little things that gave it away, the late nights spent drinking to oblivion with any workmates that I could find, desperate for company, desperate to use up some energy and desperately looking for attention, any attention, just to feel valid. Maybe it was the continous slew of young men (some of them so young they were only just legal!) that trolled up the stairs to my flat night after night to try to satiate my overwhelming sexual urges. Maybe it was the sneeky 'cat naps' that I would take underneath my friends chair in the office, the always coming in late, hungover, irritable and dressed like a hooker. Maybe it was the fact that every guy I got involved in suddenly became a huge focus in my life and that if I had a relationship I thought I would feel better, instead of the incredible aching loneliness that I felt.
I am embarrased to say that I pretty much stalked one unfortunate guy, to the point that I was texting and calling like a 'woman possessed' . The crazy thing is, I wasn't really into him, I was into the whole idea of being in a relationship, and he happened to be the poor unfortunate that my eggs rested on, and my legs wrapped round for a short spell.
Crash, bang, wallup, what a mess!
I decided I needed a holiday, I was in the throws of mania and I had stuff to do!! So I went to see my friend in Madrid and took another guy( french, as it happens) that I was conquesting with me.
My inflated idea of grandiosity believed that he would be putty in my hands, he would woo me and we would have a very romantic weekend.
I must have possessed a wild and strange look and some wierd behaviour, as on our first night in Madrid, he proclaimed ' I am sorry, I cannot do this' in his thick parisian accent.
I spent the next 7 hours crying hysterically into my pillow. I didn't sleep. He, being male, and french, so possessing a barrel of arrogance, slept.
The next day I was in shreds, and the day after, until we returned back to London, I got drunk on the plane ( we were travelling business class and I caned the champagne), and then got into a taxi and called one of my friends ( male), who suggested I come over so that he could console me.
Which he did. Console me, that is. And the other thing.
No blame
The guys that I beetled towards had no idea, they just thought that I was 'hot' for them, so they automatically gave them what it was that they percieved I wanted.
Overdose
Then it happened, I took an overdose of paracetamol, which is something I wouldn't recommend. Long story short, I ended up in A&E, one of my friends (male), took me there, and left me there.
I was referred to the Mental Care unit on my release, they decided that I had bipolar disorder.
They prescribed antidepressants, I took them. I had no idea what this meant, where to go to for help, support or advice. The antidepressants made me sweat and smell rancid.
I was living alone in my one bedroom flat after my husband had left me earlier in the year.
The report that the social worker wrote had a sum up of my 'history' and described me as 'vulnerable'.
The saddest thing of all was that when I told my mother she didn't believe me. In fact, for the first year, my family ignored me. It was the loneliest time I have ever had. They even left me alone at Christmas.
Too much too young
It wasn't the first time that I had overdosed. I did it a lot. No-one thought it was wierd particularly when I was 17 and engaged to my first husband ( yes, there has been 2!) and I took an overdose of the sleeping pills that our local GP had prescribed ( I wasn't sleeping). I ended up in a coma for 5 days and they sent me to a phychiartrist after that for an 'assessment'. He told my family I needed a holiday.
So, they sent me to Paris with my fiance. I had a sore where the drip had been in my mouth.
No-one thought it was wierd. Even I insisted that it was ' an accident' and didn't remember a thing about the incident, what led me to do it or why.
Strange............
Welcome to my world!
Purpose of blog:
to enlighten and inform the uneducated public of what it is like living with manic depression, and thereby reduce stigma.
Scope:
The aim is to produce a regular synopsis of life from the perspective of a 36 year old divorcee, diagnosed with bipolar disorder since 2003 and the adventures that come her way. Comments are welcome and, indeed, encouraged from other 'mentally interesting' people and also to include some *facts* from various sources about bipolar disorder.
to enlighten and inform the uneducated public of what it is like living with manic depression, and thereby reduce stigma.
Scope:
The aim is to produce a regular synopsis of life from the perspective of a 36 year old divorcee, diagnosed with bipolar disorder since 2003 and the adventures that come her way. Comments are welcome and, indeed, encouraged from other 'mentally interesting' people and also to include some *facts* from various sources about bipolar disorder.
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