Swelltide.

I am trying not to think of everything at once. My mind the last couple of days has been wondering, blundering-- everywhere and nowhere. It happens when I'm under stress. All things seem equally poignant, equally important and I can't then concentrate on any one thing. Makes school difficult. Studying difficult. Makes small talk difficult.

Test tomorrow, and a test next week. Spent a few days in Florida with the girlfriend's family, which was amazing. Went to the beach, had a cookout. Met some of her family for the first time. But, I didn't really do any school work when I was down there. Now, I am playing catch-up, again.

Money issues, again. As in, I have none. Waiting on financial aide which won't come for a week or two (maybe longer). I know that there is no point in worrying about it. But, I do. How can I not? I haven't really been working and I don't have much interest in this job anymore anyway. I want to get away from the people there, who aren't good for me. The schedule, which isn't good for me. The environment. The dead-end. Which is why I started school back in the first place. So, I haven't been going out of my way to make myself available for work. And now, I have no money.

I need a new job. I need my degree already. I need insurance so I can get back on the medication. Go to a therapist. I need for real life to start.

Swelltide.

So... May since I have written last. So much has happened! My laptop died which explains my absence. Bought a smart phone, finally. Which I am writing from now.

We've had a friend move in with us. And her three kids. It hasn't been terrible. Nice actually that the house doesn't seem so empty. I try, really hard, at times to remain 'normal.' What ever that means anymore.

Still not on the meds. Haven't been to the shrink in months. My moods have been pretty drastic. Up and down. But, work has been slow this summer and not nearly as stressful as I remember it having been in the past.

The last few days have been rough. I have felt, dispite there people in the house, disconnected. Lonely. Isolated.

Depressed. I hope this is over soon but the dark has been much worse than in the past. I have been daydreaming about dying or disappearing. It seems morbid but is the truth.

Right now... I am drinking red wine on the porch, alone. The kids are passed out on the air matress inside. Everything is quiet. Bearable.

Swelltide.

I am going to apologize for grammer and spelling ahead of time. The laptop is broken. Again. Having connectivity issues with the desktop. The timing could have  been worse. At least the semester is over. My "curse" at work. Can't seem to hold on to anything of value. Broke my guitar the other day. Red-ring on the xbox. Dvd player not working...

Anyway. Anyway. Still off the meds. Don't have the money for a doc visit or for the medication at the moment. And, I won't, not for a while. On a different note, had a long conversation with dad the other day, about bipolar, school, life. He's been the only person, other than my girlfriend, who has expressed any kind of concern or interest about it. He took a day off to hang out, which we haven't done in a long time. I feel so grateful for having a father like him.

I wish that I could afford the medication. The girlfriend is getting pretty tired of my waking up at two in the morning. The anger. The losing things. The not talking for days at a time.

The next few months-- work. See if I can work enough to not have to borrow so much money for school. We'll see how it goes.

Swelltide.

Likely this will be a long and rambling post, for which I apologize in advance for those who continue to read.

I am still off my medication. I still have not found a new psychiatrist. I still have not put in the effort to meet with a new doctor, to discuss cheaper medication. I am still off of my meds. This seems to be the best way to start, to frame how I've been feeling or thinking lately. Maybe manic. Maybe depressed.

My sister arrived for a few days to visit with my parents-- and to announce her pregnancy. My mother seemed usually ecstatic (concerning any news that involves my sister). The guilt I have now... My immediate reaction aside from envy, was the thought that I cannot remember the kind of reaction from my parents when my brother announced that him and his girlfriend were pregnant-- five years ago. My mother standing beside my sister, glowing. Her dear daughter, pregnant... I was baffled, happy for my sister, and equally furious.

There exists no concern about my well-being, or my brother's. There has not been any discussion about my mental state beyond that initial conversation that I had with mom about being diagnosed with bipolar, beyond  a few passing remarks about how I 'seem' so much more 'stable' now. How difficult it is not to take such remarks as a kind of insult. She does not know, of course, that I haven't been taking my medication.

My mother, who was sexually abused as a girl, never seeking professional help. Knowing her, she thinks that this is a kind of testament to inner strength. Getting through life with all this baggage, on her own... I think it is kind of pathetic. She looks down on me, I think for having gone to counseling. She looks down on me for actually trying to deal with the issues and hang-ups that I have.

She made a remark, while we went out for lunch a few days ago, about a cousin of mine who once went on a national TV show for being promiscious. "A girl sexually active at such a young age, it is a sign of sexual abuse." I asked her who in the family... "I don't want to get into it." Why? What a white-trashy, southern thing to do. We must keep quiet about those things. We must never talk about those things.

Whatever. I am not like my parents. At all. I want to think about everything. I don't think there are things within a family you should not talk about. And, that is the ironic thing. My mom is fine discussing other people's problems. Never her own.

My brother shows up to the house today, probably stoned. It was a lunch organized for his birthday. My mom had some things to say about it. My sister had some things to say about it. His 'drug' use seems to confuse them.

One of these days, I will remind my mother that while she was ever vigilant in my sister's affairs, growing up she could care less about what my brother and I did, so long as it didn't involve court or the police. I will remind her that my brother's real father never has expressed interest in him. Never sends so much as a birthday card. My brother, who has been described as 'willful' wasn't interested in school until you suddenly decided, when he was seventeen that it was unacceptable that he didn't care if he graduated from high school. Never mind that you could care less the other sixteen years.

God! The anger. The resentment. The pity that I feel for my parents. Living here, so close to them is a mistake. Something that I need to think about....

Swelltide.

The isolation is killing me.

If I were were younger, attending school, maybe the social aspect would appeal to me more. Fraternity. Parties. Clubs. I wish I had been mature enough in my early twenties to tackle school, registration, financial aide...

Now, I rarely say so much as two words to anyone for most of the day. The days that I'm not in school, I spend studying alone at the house. Watching Youtube videos about physics or chemistry, or doing nothing. Daydreaming about what my new job will be like... Thinking about what it means that when I get back into the workforce at thirty-something, will anyone want to hire me? What does it say about a person who waited so long to get an education?

Still off the medication. Still haven't done much about it. Searched for some psychiatrists in the area, and there really aren't any. So, I'm going to have to make the drive to see someone. Called the old doc a few more times and left a few more voice mail, nothing. I think mentioning to her that I would like some more inexpensive medication may have been a bad idea.

I haven't been acting liking a crazy person, but I haven't been exactly stable either. Can't sleep. Moody. Either sleeping all day or not sleeping. Scaring people with the level of energy that I have, or having no energy at all.

Yes. So... That is it really. Still school. I haven't even popped into the office at work for over a month. Which feels really good, actually. I will probably work there over the summer and go back to pretending that I never did once school starts back up in the fall.

Going back to community college. I can't keep borrowing all of this money, getting nowhere. The supposedly sub-ivy league school... The teachers aren't that great. The administration isn't that great. I'm not getting any help when I need. So, I'm not giving them my money anymore.

Swelltide.

In the mood for a quick post. 

I have been in a terrible mood the last three or four days. Irritable. Anxious. Tired. Typical, normal bi-polar off his meds stuff. I have attempted to contact the psychiatrist, several times actually, without getting a response. Which, is fine. I need the medication, which is becoming more obvious, but I also want to have an honest conversation about the cost of drugs, and whether there is a generic or combination of generics that I could be taking. Doctors don't really like having to have the conversation about the cost of drugs, in my experience. So, I'll be finding a new doc soon.

School is going much better. I've been busy, but feel like I'm finally catching up. I feel far more hopeful about it than I have since I started. Been hitting the books really hard, and am finally getting to grades that show the amount of effort that I've put into it. 

So, I'm well. Busy. Still off the medication. Still fighting with myself to get things done. That's it really. 

Swelltide.

Still, no medication. I have attempted to contact the shrink, a few times, and haven't gotten a call back. Has everything to do with me not having insurance at the moment, I'm sure. Figures. I have been fairly well. Busy, but still fighting with myself to get things done. I procrastinate, and it seems harder and harder to get myself motivated. To study. To clean. To do what needs to be done. We went for a night drive last night and inwardly I was fighting the urge to be at home. I manage to do it. Just seem to fight myself along the way.

Went up to the house to visit with mom and dad for a bit, tonight. Which was okay. Mom and the girlfriend started talking about the mother of my nephew. Apparently she called mom and started talking about her daughter, who is no relation. Being combative. Being difficult. Teenage stuff. A girl that my mom has knocked since she split with my brother. Suddenly, mom is defensive about this girl-- who is completely self-absorbed. Immature. Overly-dramatic. Probably not a great mother.

Now, I have made a lot of progress on the family front, but with my parents-- thinking about parenting in any way gets me going on this semi-obsessive cascade of... rawness, emotion. Something. I guess that is what it takes to get into my mother's good graces. Seeking her to be motherly. Allowing her to feel superior in some way? Reaching out? Of course, mom would be defensive to this absurd girl. They are a lot alike.

She, mom, is such an emotional child. I feel guilty for even putting it that way. Granted, she has been through a lot of shit, and I acknowledge that but she refuses to. She refuses to deal with it in any way. When I went to her, told her about being bipolar (like other big talks that we've had) she just shut down. She doesn't know how she really feels at any given time. This is has been an enormous rift between us. I don't feel as though I can approach her with emotional stuff. Partly, because I don't think she would really understand it and partly because I feel like she doesn't really deserve it. What a terrible thing to say about your own mother...

Which, is part of a much longer story. My father? He is the overly-devoted husband. Passive. Peace-keeper. Bread-winner. I'm not a kid anymore. The truth is neither of them really owe me anything. Other than maybe an honest conversation, which is unlikely to ever happen.

I think that the healthiest thing that I could do for myself, and for my girlfriend, is to get away from it. Get away from being made to feel obligated, guilty and blah blah blah. I already feel a little better, just writing about it.

Swelltide.

Once again, I have never intended to go so long between posts. Have just been so busy with school, which despite all of the time that I am putting in still isn't going nearly as well as I would like. It might be time for an honest conversation with myself about whether or not I am cut out for a science major-- and if it would be cost effective to keep going until I get the degree. Especially now, as the economy isn't in good enough health to guarantee that I will be able to find a job when I get done.

On the bipolar front... I still have not been taking any medication. Only recently did my loans come in, and even with the refunds, I am not sure that I have the money to keep paying what I have on the meds. Hundred  bucks a month, without insurance. I am planning a trip but to the psychiatrist to maybe find a cheaper alternative. A combination of generics, maybe. Something. One appointment though is a hundred bucks itself.   Which, I have but can't really afford to spend.

Luckily, I have been fairly even-keeled. Though, I've had more nights of not being able to sleep. Fighting with myself to manifest any kind of energy. I've been cycling every few days, riding the ups and downs. It is much easier, even without the medications, now knowing some coping mechanisms. Managing stress. Learning to take control. If only I always summon the energy, find the drive or ambition. That is the most frustrating part of bipolar for me. Being a hardworking and normally focused person; putting things off and making excuses not to do things. Not having any energy. I hate it.

A day at a time...

Anyways... I'll see that I can't post more often so long as I can keep up with school work.

Swelltide.

I didn't mean to go so long between posts, and I haven't anything new or overly exciting to report.

My new semester starts in earnest tomorrow. First lab tomorrow morning. Time to buckle down.

I am only taking two classes this semester. I got an email, the day before classes started, letting me know that I couldn't continue taking courses as I had them set up. A long story short-- all of the courses that would help me had filled up, once I had resolved the administrative stuff, and no one really seemed all that concerned with helping me out. No idea how this will affect my loans. No idea what this does to my status as a student or how this will affect my timeline for graduation. Hell, I am turning thirty this year-- so what is another few months, in the long run anyway?

I am trying to learn how to let things go. I  could have pushed the issue, but at some point you just have to admit that it isn't worth it. I am seriously considering transferring to a different university next year. I have not been impressed with this school at all. Registration has been a nightmare. The professors have been uninspiring. No one seems to take an active interest in the students.

Take things as they come...

I have been dealing with a lot of anxiety. Restlessness. Especially just before bed, and I haven't been sleeping well. I wanted to pick up hours over the break to make some money, and there just wasn't any work. So, over the next month I will have money to be concerned about. I need to be careful, not to allow myself to become overly stressed, anxious, worried.

My moods have been stable. Though, I haven't been taking my medication for the last several days. No insurance. No money. Been meaning to schedule an appointment with my psychiatrist, and soon I may not have the time with homework due and tests, studying and schoolwork. I need to have the conversation with the doctor about a prescription that doesn't cost as much-- or even a combination of meds. I can't afford the hundred-something bucks a month on my own.

Swelltide.

The girlfiend, "Your energy is all jacked up." Surprise. On an upswing. Haven't been sleeping much. Taking sleeping pills to fall asleep. Haven't been staying asleep-- but, I feel good. Welcome to mania. (Well, hypomania in my case).

The medication is obviously helping though. No aggression. Not a whole lot of irritability. Just energy. Though, I am having problems concentrating. I am still thinking fast. Talking fast. Some noise is grating. I have not however been tempted to put my fist in someone's face, or put a hole in the wall. Good.

It is getting better... this, is not so bad.

Swelltide.

School orientation at the end of this week, with classes starting Monday. The amount of things I need to keep track of, remember and put in order is daunting. I still don't have my books. I need to get a parking pass. I have medication through the end of the month, around the time that my health insurance will probably drop, depending on how many hours I happen to get at work.

I am terrified, and it isn't the prospect of the hard work and little sleep that bothers me. I don't know what to expect, and I don't like that. I am wondering whether the anxiety that I experienced in high school and college years ago, will suddenly resurface. The whole idea of being in a small room without windows and around a bunch of strangers, causes me to feel claustrophobic. Now, there is also bipolar. I might tune out. Lose interest. I might scare a few people-- and that scares me.

There is no sense in worrying about things outside of my control, I know. Or, things that haven't happened yet. Sometimes, I can't help it.

Otherwise, I have felt pretty good lately. Especially considering the amount of sleep that I've been getting. I've felt rested. Content in knowing that things are about to change for me very soon, in a big way.

Swelltide.

It has been a while since the big bipolar diagnosis. Four months, or five. I have school coming up. A major change at work, being that I go part-time-- or not at all, depending on how they react to me not being available all hours of the day. I am planning a discussion about the diagnosis with my family, though I don't think this talk will come any time soon.

It is something that I've brought up in therapy and keep coming back to. When to tell people and who to tell. I am not afraid of any kind of stigma, but more like a reaction to my emotions. I don't care if people know that I am crazy. Ha. Anyone who knows me really well knows that I am. I don't want to have people downplaying how I feel or what I think because they know that I am bipolar. I don't want to be in an argument and have someone dismiss what I say because I am 'unstable', or 'manic.' People are dismissive of how I feel already. It would just be an excuse to accuse me of overreacting. Or being down.

A quick appointment with the psychiatrist tomorrow, and then therapy in the afternoon. I may ask for something to ease anxiety. Which, I know will be a problem when school starts and I am sitting in a shoebox of a room with no one that I know. I have been anxious lately under normal circumstances.

I have not been sleeping well, but am still reluctant to take on more medication than is good for me. I do not need to be taking something for mania, something for depression, something for anxiety and something to help me sleep. I don't want all of those meds. I have had a hard enough time taking the one pill, every day, like I am supposed to.

I wish there were one other person with bipolar, that I knew personally and could talk to. Someone who has lived with it for a while. It would make everything so much easier for me, because I do feel like nobody really understands what it is like. I do feel like I don't know enough about what I am going through, myself. And knowing is everything for me. I have to know what to expect. I must know what I'm dealing with. What is around the corner.

Because I haven't been taking my meds like I should, my mood has been somewhat unstable. I wake up feeling one way and come home feeling another. I have been somewhat irritable. Mostly, I've been feeling detached from people, without any real explanation. Lonely, but mostly separated from everyone around me. I've even gone so far as to Google this feeling. An emotion that there really isn't a word for. Depression.

I hate that word. Depression. Like an old friend who had sex with your wife. The attitudes of my family and friends to this word, is equally patronizing and pitiful. I don't even openly talk about it with anyone anymore. Maybe, I am depressed. If I am though, it is different for me now than when I have experienced it before. I am still productive. Still about to get myself out of bed and to work, though not always on time. I don't have the desire to pull the shades down on all the windows and not talk for a few days.

If I talked to my psychiatrist about it, or my therapist, drugs would be the answer. I just don't want anymore medication. So, what do you do?

Swelltide.

My prescription has lapsed, again. It has been a couple of days and I haven't had the ambition, the drive to get it filled. I am not even sure where the prescription actually is and my next psychiatry meeting isn't until next week. Therapy this week, I need to cancel because of circumstances at work.

I alternate between feeling invincible and being full of energy, to feeling like I can't do anything. The last couple of days, I've barely been able to get myself out of bed on time and show up to work when I am supposed to. It just doesn't seem important. Due in no small part, because of nights like tonight where it gets late and I'm not tired, or don't want to go to bed.

Work has been a bust for me the last few days. I drive the hour to work and find out that nothing is really going on. I am glad for the break, seeing as how last week I worked a jillion hours. I deserve it, somehow. Though I know that I should be working all that I can now as school is coming up and I could use the money.

What ever. Woe is me. I keep coming back to that, no matter how much I try. Try to focus on the positive. Try not to forget where I set something down. Try not to forget to put my reports through the system at the end of the day. Try to wake up on time. I always forget something, or forget to do something. It gets old. Having to make excuses, because I can't get out of bed on time or remember where something is.

On a lighter note, I was reading the Hobbit aloud to my girlfriend in bed. She fell asleep. It has been a while since we've done anything like this. Having our own place has been good for us both. I am afraid that when school starts, I am going to be so busy with work and my studies that I won't have time for things like this anymore. Spending time with her grounds me. It keeps me stable and focused. If it wasn't for her, I would probably be living out of my car and selling bootlegged movies to feed myself or something. She makes me sane.

Swelltide.

Not really tired. Took a nap when I got home. Long and boring day at work.

Met with my psychiatrist-- she seems happy with the level of medication I am on. Surprised that it is working so well, so soon. We've talked about some kind of antidepressant-- but I am not ready. Not her recommendation, but mine.

Depression is much easier for me. I have lived with it in on a daily basis since my teens. I know things to do to drag myself up a little bit. I know how to kick myself in the butt when I need to. Sometimes, it doesn't work. Sometimes it does. Depression doesn't scare me-- bipolar does.

This might change. It probably will change. I don't want to start on a lot of medications when I may be losing my insurance soon. School soon. Maybe changing my job soon. That is why I am not ready. A smaller part of my hesistation is the junkie mentality-- I don't really know life without meloncholy. Living with depression, though it doesn't make life any easier for me, is all that I've known as an adult. It is hard to see things any other way.

Tonight, I feel isolated. I feel shut-off from the world.

I have been thinking about my inability to form real bonds with people the last couple of days. I meet people, get invited out. To parties, to the bars, to a cook-out-- whatever. I decline. This happens until they give up. I don't disclose anything about myself to others. Other than my girlfriend-- and some things that she knows about me, took me years to tell her. I don't find joy in people anymore.

I don't know what to do with this-- elitism, fear of vulnerability, anxiety. I don't know how to fix it. We talk about it a lot in therapy, but it all has a tendacy to come full circle.

Sparta

Greetings,

Swelltide asked for a companion to write along with him in his blog, and I told him that I’d give it a try.  It took me a while to get around to it though.  I finally have.  It’s partly due to my long-distance girlfriend visiting, but it’s also partly not.  I’m not exactly in the best shape currently.  We can get to that later though.

DISCLAIMER: This will probably be a bit lengthy, and you’ll know way more about me than you ever cared to know.  I also will occasionally use swear words or discuss/reference heavy subjects like suicide.  Apologies in advance.

A “QUICK” ASIDE

Suicide isn’t a good idea.  I know you hear the PSAs, etc. often, but if you’re even thinking about suicide then you need to seek help immediately.  That doesn’t mean that you need to seek help once you’re walking to the bridge.  If you are feeling down in the dumps and even have suicide cross your mind then you probably need to talk to someone, even a friend or relative.  Ideally you would go to a counselor, therapist, or other professional, but anything is better than sitting in a hospital gown in the psychiatric ward (not to mention being dead). 

There really isn’t any shame in reaching out before you even get to the point of suicidal thoughts.  There will be people who don’t understand and think that you’re just being dramatic or something like that.  Fuck them.  Most of those people wouldn’t have a different opinion after a suicide attempt.  They just won’t get it.  I don’t mean to say that they’re necessarily bad people.  They’re usually older and come from a time that had even less understanding of the brain and mental health than we do today.  Plus, you just can’t really see a mental health disorder, and someone who hasn’t experienced one may not understand.

END LECTURE

I think a brief introduction would probably be useful now.  I have been diagnosed with a mental health disorder for about three years now.  I was diagnosed with bipolar 2 about two years ago.  Prior to my mental health issues I had been a 3.8 student at a major university with no physical or mental ailments.  I got a cold or the flu every once in a while, but I was very healthy overall.  I then failed all of my classes in the first semester of my junior year.  I would shut myself in my room except for the bathroom and food for days.  Things were pretty bleak.  I had to call a friend in late November while holding a bottle of pills. 

That prompted me to get serious about finding professional help.  I was diagnosed with major depression and began therapy and medicine.  I still failed all but one of my classes during the second semester.  The hardest thing was just getting out of bed and going to class.  Writing papers was the second hardest thing.  That combination isn’t a recipe for success in college or really anywhere for that matter.

Nevertheless, I got a sweet job that summer and was having a great time.  I felt alive again.  I was around a lot of intellectual people, having fun, and doing my job well.  I was really thriving, but then on the last day we all went out to celebrate.  Something like six or eight hours later, I don’t really know for sure, some cops found me drunkenly stumbling down the street with my wrists bleeding.  I spent a few days in inpatient care and then a week in outpatient care, where they diagnosed me with bipolar 2.  Apparently, I had essentially been manic all summer, and that night it all came to a head.

My life has improved since then.  Medicines to treat bipolar disorder and therapy have helped immensely, and my amazing girlfriend, who stuck with me through the whole ordeal, helped even more.  I just graduated with a bachelor’s degree this May for instance.

By no means has it been a smooth ride though.  I can’t say that I haven’t ever had thoughts of suicide since that awful night.  I have lost touch with a lot of friends and have a much-diminished social life.  Keeping obligations, even important ones like therapy, has not been easy.  Paying bills on time is hard.  I can’t seem to handle everything in life at once, and that’s not even during the low points.

I’d say I’m somewhere in a down period right now.  I have to find a new psychiatrist because my current one will be leaving, and I have to contact her to get more sleeping meds.  Consequently, I have been staying awake until 6 or 7 in the morning and sleeping until 4 or 5 in the afternoon.  When I miss appointments with my therapist I usually can’t get myself to reschedule for a few weeks, and I missed an appointment almost a month ago.  So I haven’t seen him in a while.  I need to amend that.

Right now, I have been awake since 4:30 yesterday afternoon.  Videogames and TV have occupied most of my waking hours.  It really isn’t very ideal for a recent college graduate, seeing as I don’t have a job…

If you haven’t noticed already, I’m not the best writer.  I tend to ramble and have a mixture of formal and informal sentences.  Without frequent consultation of a thesaurus, I overuse certain words.  There is probably more that I don’t even notice.  And since I’m pointing out flaws, I have always been an extremely negative, critical person.  Especially toward myself.  (I’m also not going to always use complete sentences, proper grammar, nor proper structure.)  This negativity paralyzes me sometimes.

I want to help with Swelltide’s blog because, as he has pointed out, there isn’t a wealth of information for people with bipolar disorder.  More specifically, I haven’t found anything like this blog.  Message boards can be helpful, but they don’t have running commentary from someone.  You can read about other fucked up people’s problems and find some advice from other anonymous sources.  However, maybe this blog will help someone, and that makes it more that worth it.  Even if it doesn’t, it will still probably be therapeutic for me. 

So you’ll see posts from me now.  They’ll probably be more infrequent than Swelltide’s, but hopefully I’ll be helpful in adding a second perspective to bipolar disorder.  I will also try to keep my posts shorter than this one in the future too.  Congratulations on making it through my first one ever.

Cheers,

Sparta

Swelltide.

I'm back to not getting sleep. Filled my prescription yesterday after work. Took my meds before bed, and it took me about two hours to fall asleep. Woke up a dozen or more times throughout the night. Woke up this morning, after hitting the snooze four times, feeling like I didn't get any sleep at all.

If living with bipolar means living the whole of my life taking medication, and taking medication means that I'm not often going to get a full night's sleep,  I am going to have to do something. I don't want more medication that I have to take. I don't want to have to take another pill because the medication I'm on keeps me awake-- but, I may have no choice.

I feel terrible for my girlfriend. Not only does she get to deal with me being a complete basket-case, she also gets to live with me keeping her up, and waking her up every night. Living with someone who is bipolar has got to feel like having bipolar yourself. No sleep. Grumpy. Irritable.

No work today, which is nice. Until my paycheck comes around. Always now, in the back of my mind, is school. This fall. I have no money saved up, am paying more in rent, have a car payment and a few credit card bills. I have no idea what to do. Normally, I would think of getting a second job, a night job, but I've had enough problems just finding a different job-- which is what led me, partially, to want to go back to school.

I've felt level today, which is nice. Tired, but level. It should be a good day for a nap.

Swelltide.

I didn't fill my prescription last week, before the holiday. So, I haven't taken medication the last few days. The upside, apparently, is that I've been getting sleep.

One quick google search of my medication and here is what I've found:

Lamictal and Insomia

I don't want to admit to my psychiatrist that I've gone a few days without medication. I am afraid that this could mean that I would have to start all over with the dosage. I don't want her to think that I'm not taking the condition seriously. I also don't want another medication added to the growing list of things that I need to take to be a fully functional human being.

When I fill the prescription, I'm going to have to do something. Not getting sleep. Not being able to stay asleep-- it isn't going to work. I can't continue to be late for work because I've slept through my alarm-- again. Summer is right around the corner, and when things pick up at work, I'm not going to be able to park and nap during lunch. I need sleep. On the medication, I'm not getting it.

Swelltide.

So, therapy today... How did it go? I don't know. I came out of it... feeling the same, really.

What did we talk about? Family relationships-- my mom in particular. Nothing resolved. No real progress made. Maybe a group kind of session, which I'm not really interested in. Maybe, I need to give up completely on the notion that I will have the kind of relationship with my parents that I want. Which is something we touched on. What do I want? From my parents-- I don't know. A relationship of any kind would be nice. Something beyond, "Is everything okay? How are you doing?" It was a mistake renting this place from them. It was a mistake ever expecting more from them. It was a mistake thinking that things between us would change.

 The need to get sleep we talked about also, but here I am at eleven o' clock at night. No real progress. We talked about being sensitive to the environment. Everyday, normal stressors affecting me more severely than other people. No real progress. Don't get me wrong-- having someone to talk to that is unbiased-- is invaluable. I am frustrated, however, because I was expecting things to happen a little more quickly. We were supposed to talk about cognitive therapy. Changing the way I think about things, but there just wasn't enough time. We were going to talk about relaxation, and ways to focus and calm down, but there just wasn't enough time.

And, then a follow-up with the psychiatrist. No reactions to the medications? "Good. See you later. Start taking a higher dosage and get back to me."

This whole experience has been a little disappointing. I'm not sure what I was expecting to get out of it but I know this wasn't it.

Much of what I have learned about bipolar I have done on my own. Weeks of research. The learning about hypomania versus mania. Apparently, hypomania is my deal. So, I get the normal depressive moods without getting the full-blown mania part. The full down, without the full-up. Lucky me. Maybe I'll get some flack for even stating it that way, but what do I care? I can't even do bipolar right.

The girlfriend feels that I have been distant. This whole ordeal isn't fair. I've been so pissed off about being bipolar. Feeling crazy. Wanting to just curl up somewhere and forget that the world beyond my front door exists. I haven't been focusing on much else. Nothing in my life is going like I wanted it to.To deal with this, and then to have the guilt of not being the functional human being that I deserve to be. To not have the sanity to be able to give those around me what they need. It is getting old really fast, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it beyond pretending that I'm feeling okay. Beyond repressing the need to seek out some quiet, little space and fall asleep there for a while.

Not getting sleep is killing me. Not being able to say to people what I really think, is killing me. Not having the freedom to be the basket case that I am, is killing me. I want to firebomb my work, give everyone the finger, pack a few bags with clothes and drive off. Forget everyone and everything for a while. Park my car off the road in the desert and watch the sun go down. That is what I really need.  A break from reality. From life. A vacation from suddenly being this mentally ill, incompetent person who can't focus for three minutes to listen to someone talk about something outside of myself. Why is that so difficult?!

Swelltide.

I might need to back off the just diagnosed with bipolar, week-long freak out. I think the girlfriend is tiring of my being on the computer all the time. She still has a lot of questions, and some that I don't have answers to still. Dealing with this, all of the time, is only keeping me distant. I can't spend hours anymore, researching and writing. Bitching and moaning. Reaching out to others on forums, but not always to her.

I don't want to be a burden! I've always had the problem of not being able to ask for help. I don't like being vulnerable. I don't like needing anything from someone else. I need to get over it. I need to accept that I am a nut-- no more crazy than anyone else-- and move on.

Everyone is dealing with something.

I had a conversation yesterday, or the day before, at work-- where a coworker claimed that he carried no issues from childhood, had no feelings of inequity or inferiority, didn't deal with anger or hurt. Nothing that he's been dealing with in life. His parents divorcing? Nope. Being a single father and living in a garage? Nope. Having to rely on mom and dad to help pay bills? Nope. He's full of it.

Everyone has something. Rough childhood. Drugs. Money problems. Dead parents or siblings. Feeling isolated, or alone. Something.

This bipolar thing. This elephant in the room. What makes it so special?! Granted, I have a ton of other things I'm dealing with also. Some things related to biploar, but what makes manic depression so big for me? Why am I having a hard time accepting the fact that I am bipolar, and just moving on? I could easily pop a couple of pills every day, go to my therapy once a week, and just carry on. I don't understand what is making this so much bigger than any of the other things I've had to deal with in my life...

I have hives, bumps or something on my leg. Spent some time looking up Stevens Johnson syndrome on the internet-- and freaked out. The girlfriend found the first couple of rash symptoms and I just ran with it. Spent some time this morning continuing to scare myself. The psychiatrist said to keep an eye out and stop taking the medication if anything like this pops up. Pictures of people with their skin falling off, their mouth full of sores, eyes swollen shut. Blegh. If it weren't Sunday, I would be on the phone with the doctor right now.

Anyway. Anyway, I'll clean and organize the house today.Wash some dishes. Unpack some boxes. Been over a week since we moved in, and still things in piles-- waiting to be taken care of. Spend some time with the girl when she gets home and, for one night, pretend that there isn't anything wrong. I need a break from it as much as she does.

Swelltide.

Picked the girlfriend up from her job and drove us over to my second session of therapy. Just not enough time! We are going to start an every-other-week of couples counseling which I think will be good for us. She says that she thinks we have no real problem communicating, which is true. We talk and I'm learning to open up. One of a few things we hit on. I've been so focused on not reliving the past. On not thinking to much and dwelling on the dark stuff. I throw up walls. A form of denial and a not so healthy coping mechanism.

Followed up with the psychiatrist. It could take months for the medication to level me out. But, I don't want to be too level. I don't want to be numb. I will be ramping up my medication as time goes on. It is worth giving a try, but I am still hesitant. I remember being a part of the med-mill when I was a teenager and I didn't really get much out of it. Though, I wasn't in therapy at the time. So, we will see.