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I stopped my meds. Yes, cold turkey. Yes, all at once. Not my greatest idea, I am sure. I felt nauseous all the time and started to hallucinate. But otherwise, my mood cycled like it always has.

On Wednesday, I saw a psychiatrist. It was the psychiatrist who diagnosed me with BPD, in fact. She was OK. She didn’t like me on the Valproate in the first place and said the Mirtazapine obviously wasn’t working. She suggested Citalopram, something to wake me up in the morning instead of sedate me at night. Which sounds fine but it is an SSRI. They have worked so well for me in the past… She said that I need to figure out my triggers (breathing, eating), and learn to manage my illness better (why do you think I am here, lady?). But she was OK, trying to treat symptoms, not just an illness that I may not have. She is pushing me up the waiting list for DBT, and trying to get me to go back to my psychologist. Which are all good things.

I am hoping that she is correct in saying that this is not a big serious, “for life” kind of illness, and just an inability to cope with stress and life events. She suggested that my mood swings are just an overraction (my words) to stress, and something that I need to manage. I apparently have to deal with my past as well (I knew that). So yeah, nothing particularly helpful for the short term. Sort of makes me want to just deal by myself but that has worked so well for me in the past..

I haven’t started the Citalopram yet. Any experiences/ advice/ anything about it?

I start Uni in a week or so. Work have offered me as many hours as I need to stay healthy and attend Uni, which is lovely. I am pretty excited and terrified. What if it all goes to shit? But then again, what if it doesn’t?

A few days ago, I experienced a really intense “up”. I thought I was a genius. In the four days, I slept a total of fourteen hours and ate approximately 4 meals. I lost 2 kgs in those 4 days. I talked a lot, scared a lot of customers, made absolutely no sense, and kept everyone entertained at work. It was kind of fun, but hazy now. Luckily, I was working a lot in that time.

This year promises to be exciting, terrifying, and full of madness. I know that it won’t let me down.

Do you ever get mad that you have a head like this? Do you get mad that it refuses to be quiet, that you are unable to get away? Do you ever wish to take a head vacation, pack your bags and lie on a beach without your fish wife of a mind making things unbearable?

Do you ever have nights where you can’t sleep? Where you are up all night crying because your brain won’t let you have a moments peace? Do you ever beg your mind to leave it alone, whatever “it” is?

Does death ever become a fantasy for you? A romantic adventure where your every problem is solved? Do you fantasise about it every second of every day?

Do you ever become paranoid, scared to leave the house because people don’t like you? Do you ever feel like you are being watched, your every moved being tracked by numerous people on the street? Do you ever feel like people are conspiring against you, every little thing is a sign that people hate you?

You don’t? Me neither..

The DVDs lying out will be depressing, or about being crazy. When I get depressed, I become obsessed with mental people. I will read memoir after memoir and read blog after blog. That is when I can concentrate, of course. Right now, the DVDs out are, ‘Skins’ and ‘My Sisters Keeper’. Out of 4 seasons, I will only watch two episodes- ‘Freddie’ in season 4 and ‘Cassie’ in season 1. I will watch them over and over for hours.

The books I have out are usually to do with being crazy. Right now, it’s ‘Manic’ by Terri Cheney and ‘Madness’ by Marya Hornbacher. I feverishly skim page after page for evidence. Evidence of my madness, perhaps. Or evidence of my sanity. I hope to be able to say, ‘I’m not like her, therefore I am sane’. But I relate far too much. Too much so that it makes me want to weep for my future. I desperately want to be fine.

But my room is my tell. If I have had a few good days, everything will look lovely. Everything will be clean, dusted and vaccumed. I will be clean and looking good. When I am well, I glow like a pregnant woman. When I am sick, I look like I have spent the last three weeks in bed with the flu.

I just want to pretend to be fine again. At least that way, I am not a burden or a worry.

If I had a magic wand, I would definitely take this away. I have been doing this for years and I am exhausted.

Don’t worry, I am fine.

Tonight, I am a bit obsessed with this:

I’M OK!

When I was 14, I started looking after my siblings. My sister was 5, my brother was 2. My brother closes in age was 12, but he stayed in his room most of the time. I was apt at changing nappies, making bottles, cutting meat into tiny pieces, and playing. My parents were fairly absent and when they were around, they were shit so I preferred for them to be out. I am not saying this for sympathy, just to gather an understanding as to why I feel like I should be doing everything myself. If I asked for help, I would get yelled at. I imagine it is because they took it as an attack on their parenting skills, or lack thereof.

So for some reason, I have taken on this attitude that I need to do everything by myself. I need to deal with everything, do things that I don’t know anything about by myself. For instance, writing my resume. I have been procrastinating about it for weeks. I don’t know how to write about my current employment or my availablity for when I go to Uni. The Boy is pro at this kind of thing. Then, it hit me. Why don’t I just ask him? I am sure he would be happy to help as my job makes me grumpy everyday anyway. Asking for help for the everyday things will help relieve a lot of stress, I think.

But asking for help with my mental health is another story. Asking for help means admitting that there’s a problem and I don’t know how ready I am for that. I know that I have been in ‘recovery’ for two years now roughly, but I don’t see myself as ill. Yes, I have been in hospital. Yes, I have attempted suicide twice. Yes, I am on meds. But I have a full time job, I work hard. I have a social life. How can I have all these things and still be ill? I know that on some level things aren’t right but ill? Please.

I know that I should ask for help. But it feels like a weakness. It feels like that I can beat it if I were just stronger. If I focused on other things, if I just forgot about it. But I should know that this isn’t true when that overwhelming suicidal urge rushed through me. I just need to learn to ask for help before it gets to this. If I broke my leg, I would ask for help cooking and cleaning, and moving around. So c’mon, brain. I am giving you permission to ask for help so you don’t kill yourself. People need you.

My mood seems to follow a cycle of roughly a week. Give or take. I spend the two days of the weekend high, then I crash, then I become a bit normal for a few days. Of course, depression and “mixed states” can come out of the blue and stay for three weeks. Then I am in trouble. Depression is usually the worst for that.

I thought maybe that the weekend highs were because I didn’t have to work but I have started working weekends now, and it is still the same. And I fucking hate my job.

I am not sure how accurate this insight is, but it’s all I have at the moment. So I am unsure as to whether it is bipolar or BPD. Or a strange combination of the both. I am not doing well really. I did have a couple of normal days where I sorted everything but then the mental came back in full force.

Sometimes I go through pahses where I decide that I am only ill because I think about it too much. I have recently decided that I am too introspective about it all and that is why I get depressed. If I thought about normal stuff and did normal things, I would be fine. If I kept busy, filled my life with activities then I could avoid depression. Maybe that is all life is- keeping busy and avoiding depression.

Starting this year with Uni will be a good thing. If I work and study then I will be fine. I will be too busy for depression. If I stop thinking about it, stop overidentifying with an illness I may or may not have, everything will be peachy.

I want to believe that I am ill because I read too many self help books, because I track my moods, because taking my meds at morning and night reminds me of pain. Can I write it off to a not so perfect childhood? Can we say, yes, life was shitty sometimes and this caused your depression? But now it doesn’t need to happen again. You have control, you have the power to change it. All I need to do is toughen up a bit and stop living in my head. I will deal with this.

I will get fit and go to Uni and get on with my life. I will write off these last few years as a break from the shit my parents put me through and get on with my life. After all, I have everything- a boy who loves me, studying for my dream job, and a part time job that pays OK. I will be happy.

So if I disappear, don’t be too concerned. I am trying to be normal for a while.

So I am going to make some goals. Nothing huge, but somewhere that I can reflect on them.

1. Give my course a chance. Let my life have a focus other than work.

2. Give DBT a chance. I don’t think that I have BPD but the DBT group will have fantastic resources to help recover.

3. Promise to call (text, tweet, facebook message)  someone before I kill myself. Hospital is shit but right now, in a completely normal state, it is better than death.

I need to let things change gradually instead of incessantly searching for instant gratification. Things are allowed to be shit for a few months without offing myself.

I need to take better care of me before I lose myself to this.

When I am depressed, I don’t work. I literally go in and eat food, talk to people and leave. I try to leave early if I can, not caring about the money that I will miss out on. I walk in an absolute mess. I am not washed, my hair is everywhere, and I look sick. I usually just tell people that I have an ongoing case of the flu. Everyone continues to work while they are physically ill because there is no one to replace us, so it isn’t a huge deal. I try not to serve customers or speak to people. My sense of humour is more morbid than usual because I most likely just want to die. Depressed me is not conducive to productivity.

When I am “up” or “manic”, I am entertaining but not productive. I went into work one day when I was manic and laughed with everyone. We spent 8 hours telling jokes and stories, listening to music, and I made a mask. Out of a letter that I read on the way to work. I apparently started laughing hysterically and could not sit still. Someone told me to stop smoking crack. I have never touched crack in my life. Other manic times at work, I have made a frog mask from the back of a froot loops box (which I bought in my break), and have been wrapped up in a paper towel toga by another guy.

Looking at all of this, I wonder how I have a job. And how MH professionals can judge your mental health on whether you are just showing up to work or not. Sure, I show up and subsequently get paid. But I don’t work. I have been in trouble for my lack of work before. I have pissed a lot of people off, quite frankly. I know when I am unwell. So how can a professional sit there and tell me that I am fine because I am turning up for work, when I want nothing more in the world than to die?