In case you don’t know already, I have Bipolar I, Borderline Personality Disorder, SAD, GAD, PTSD, Trichotillomania, and OCD. And, I’m a writer with all this shit. Surprise! Anyway, back to the serious topic like, what the fuck is mania really like?
There are days where my mind is going non-stop. It doesn’t shut up! It’s a million thoughts and the anxiety over controlling them. Most memes reveal that mania is like happy, joy, joy time when you’re on a high. Well, you got that shit wrong. REALLY, wrong.
For the last two days, I experienced mania. Sometimes, I’m really happy. And then there are the times, I don’t want to be in my skin. This is the part of mania than can be dangerous. When your thoughts are racing down the road and everything seems to go to shit. Nothing you feel is right. It’s not depression. I guess it could be considered a “mixed” state and trust, I have a ton of “mixed state” episodes. My brain left my body and it doesn’t want to shut up. It can be dangerous because this is when you normally flock to the alcohol or illegal drugs just to escape those rapid thoughts. You feel like throwing yourself in front of traffic just to get your brain to stop the noise. It was bad the last two days. Sometimes my brain doesn’t allow me to do anything.
Mania also includes the irritable and you’re ready to snap everyone’s head off for no reason. You’re not comfortable in your skin at the moment, and you’re practically clawing yourself. When I’m like this, I normally ball up on the floor or hide in my bed until this mood passes. I bawled last night. I want my brain to stop. It does feel like it’s on fire half the time. I spent two-three days in this mood. I want to do so much but my mind couldn’t tell me what to do next. If that gibberish makes any sense? I wanted to read, but I couldn’t read a single sentence. I wanted to edit my book, but I couldn’t look at it this week. It’s just been one of those nasty weeks. Nothing was going right. And I have a psychology appt on July, 5th. I need medication. I tried it without, and I’m literally clawing at myself again. My anxiety is the first bitch, we’re medicating. Hopefully, my psychologist puts me on something that doesn’t hinder me. I can’t sleep in a bed all day. I’m willing to go back on my medicines. Instead of doing something stupid, I called a new psychologist. You see, the problem with bipolar, anxiety, and borderline is that your mind lies to you. And sometimes your mind creates delusions. “They’re out to get us! It’s a conspiracy! They’re trying to kill us!” Dude, really? Why do I do this? UAAAHGH!
The cool thing is that the entire house is educated on my disorders. They know Jen is massively fucked up in the head. And my husband, god love him… “You can’t control it this time, can you?” NOPE! I cried, and he gently hugged me. He didn’t say anything but hug me. Sometimes a hug is all it takes. Sometimes, it isn’t. But I asked for help with the kids, and help came. I have backups to the backups. I needed it. My mood started to lift last night. This one was rough. And you know deep in your mind it’s only temporary, but damn… it seemed to last forever!
It wasn’t a “mixed” state. I know what those are like, and they are hell. This is the irritable, nothing is right type of mania. Like your mind is constantly spinning on a merry-go-around and it doesn’t seem to stop. There was no way I could have handled the kids last night. Thank you to my support team. While I was in my irritable state, I wanted to order 300$ worth of shit. Luckily, I didn’t. Well, I sort of did, but I canceled all my orders this morning. Let’s be honest here.
Sometimes the mania is worse than the depressive episodes. I couldn’t focus worth a damn until my brain slowed down. And it’s been like this for the last few months. I want to do so much, and I realize that I can’t/shouldn’t. I was mad that my brain wouldn’t allow me to write a cohesive sentence or form a cohesive thought. Thankfully, it passed. It is getting worse. We’ll see what my new psychologist says. We’ll let her diagnose me again. Remember, Borderlines, don’t like to stay with one person for a long time. This is why many people don’t want to deal with Borderlines. We pop in and out of therapy. They say the wrong thing, and we’re out of there. I have no problems cutting people off and giving attitude. I hate these mental illnesses. I often dream about a brain transplant. That would be nice, but would I be a different person? I would think so. Can we work harder on finding a diagnosis for this shit? I hate feeling like this all the time.
Today, I’m feeling okay. I’m a lot more stable today than what I was yesterday. “As long as you can think, you can work.” Fuck you, disability people! I can’t think like they can. They don’t understand what it’s like to be a prisoner of your own mind. The self-loathing, the self-hatred, and the million racing thoughts that never end.
Now, I’m dealing with memory loss. I have to write everything down, or I’ll forget it. I can’t remember my own home phone or cell phone numbers. I can’t remember my own address. And you pause, and people stare at you. “What is your number?” I don’t, I don’t remember. If I read a book, I have to write everything down, or I’ll forget what I read. This is probably due to autoimmune diseases. MS is the nastiest player of them all. I sat in a parking lot, trying to remember my car for over two hours just the other day. I was so frustrated that I cried. So now, people go with me. I didn’t remember the car color, the car make, or anything about my car! It took me two hours to remember the alarm on my car was on the key chain. I pressed it and it sounded. That’s how bad my memory is right now. I have to carry a black notebook with me to remember my car, my phone numbers, and my address. And having Psoriatic Arthritis is just as bad. I get upset, another plaque lesion emerges. How can I meet people like this? I have plaque lesions down my arm and on my hands now. Inverse under my breast and between my legs. Dude, the shit isn’t pretty. And I also have scalp psoriasis. At least my nails are somewhat intact. They don’t look pretty, but at least they’re still on my fingers. I do have pits in them. My nails break off really easily. My hair has to be washed every day. My mental disorders were diagnosed way before my autoimmune diseases. MS, Hashi, PsA, Raynaud’s, Chron’s, and Hemolytic Anemia. I’m fucked. Add GERD on that list, even though it’s not an autoimmune disease. I’m down 75% of my thyroid. I’ve got a patch inside me to hold my intestines in, I’m down a gall bladder, no tonsils, and no adnoids. I’m a walking science experiment. I’m supposed to be on Methotrexate, Ferrous Sulfate, Meloxicam, Citalopram, Seroquel, Prilosec, Citerine, and Enbrel, but I refuse to take that shit. After all, government conspiracy, right? It’s a secret mind control! Yay, to delusions! The only thing I take right now is Levothyroxine. And my husband reminds me to take it every day. The main nasty players are MS and PsA. I can’t control the shit that comes from those autoimmune diseases.
This is me, but a fucked up me.