Hiatus

The Boy and I have semi-broken up. It was somewhat mutual (I instigated it but he said he felt similar). We are trying to work things out. But I am an actual mess at the moment. I have been his girlfriend for two years, he has been the love of my life for longer. I won’t go into too much detail, just that I won’t be here or on Twitter for a while. It is all very overwhelming and I need to spend time taking care of myself so I don’t fall into depression.

To Care Or Not to Care

I am going a bit mental again. I am not really sure what is wrong. I have lost track of everything that seemed to be my reality. I don’t want anything anymore. I don’t care. And not in that “I am depressed and want to die” sort of way. In more of a “I don’t give a fuck about the future or the past, I am just going to do what I want”. It is not really a good thing though because I feel very reckless. But as I said, I don’t really care, do I?

If I Ignore it, it Will Go Away

I have started University, week one. I have suvived. Yes, I am surprised too. But the more I try to take on, the more the mental creeps up on me. But also, the more I realise that I am trying to live in denial about it all.

I am not sure how much I have said but I went off my meds a few months ago. I am starting to lose weight again and although I am sleeping less, I feel more alert. I don’t want to sleep 14 hours a day (thankyou, Mirtazapine) and am actually getting up in the morning. I have also stopped seeing any kind of doctor and have no intention of making any contact with those crisis team bastards again. I am cured, right? I don’t need anyone.

I have become oblivious to my changes in mood again. And I don’t care. Fuck it. Why should my life be run by mental? I don’t want this. And I know that no one does so you have to manage it best you can but I am not fighting for any kind of decent support anymore. I am no longer calling the crisis team to save my arse for them to send a letter to my GP stating that I had an “exacerbation of BPD symptoms”. I am just going to go on and be oblivious, and not care, and finish Uni, and get a job, and hope that it all doesn’t go to shit. It is probably not the best idea I have ever had but no one takes me seriously. No one cares. I try to get help before I kill myself and they look at me and think, “Oh, she just has BPD, probably doing this for attention”. It’s bullshit. My life was so much better before all this “help”. Things were still horrible but this is worse. At least before, I could ignore it and do whatever I wanted without my fish wife of a conscience saying, “hey now.. is this a symptom?”. And that is what I intend to do now.

You are probably thinking that I need some kind of happy balance but baby, I always do things in extremes.

A Truth

www.postsecret.com

Update-izzle

There is lots going on regarding my “recovery” but I just cannot find the inclination to write about it.

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.

A Million Questions

Do you ever have days where you head is a mess? Where there is talking, music, that nagging voice telling you just to die?

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..

My Tell

You can tell when I am getting ill again by the state of my room. Sick me has more important things to worry about than hygiene and cleanliness, so it will be a mess. A complete mess, not just clutter. There will be dishes and empty food containers everywhere. For some people, this is the norm. But I like things to be clean. My brain is calmer when my room is clean.

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.