Thursday, November 12, 2015

Sometimes I'm Terrified

I'm about to get all dark on your ass. Why? Because I'll always tell you like it is. I'll never tell you what you want to hear because it's the nice thing to do. Being nice isn't always the right thing to do.

There's a lot of things about being bipolar that I despise, but do you know what I hate most? Well pull up a fucking chair my pretties...

It's the idea that my life is in my own hands at all times.

What does this mean?

It means when shit gets so low, not necessarily rock-bottom low but low nonetheless, I have the means to pull the plug.

I'm not suicidal (today) so sit your ass back down. I'm simply making a point. We all think it, invisible illness or not. Fading away is all too easy.

When you have a mental illness, in my case, bipolar disorder...there's a constant hovering thought about how I can take myself out should I decide to do so. It's a darkness I didn't choose to live with. It's just reality.

Being back on medication was fucktacular at first. I was borderline (hypo)manic and enjoying every second. Now that I've been on it for about two months things are winding down. My head is throbbing. I'm tired--So fucking tired. I'm ready for bed by 7pm most nights. I'm in a bad mood. I don't care about too much at the moment.

Yesterday, due to circumstances at home, I was ready to go back to self-harming. I still self-harm by scratching but I wanted to cut. I wanted a release like no other. I resorted to hiding in the bathroom and crying like a little bitch. I didn't reach out to my usual crew of people. I kept to myself and by the time the day was through, I was overwhelmed and filled with panic and fear.

Lately I've been having a different type of intrusive thought. One that I won't go into today. It's one I haven't dealt with before. Jack asked me about it at my initial consultation but I brushed it off. So why is it suddenly surfacing now? More on that later. Maybe.

In less than one week I'll be sitting on that couch again and doses will be adjusted, I'm sure.

I cannot fall down again because every fucking time I fall, getting back up seems impossible. These days I'm on my own because I don't want to share my thoughts with anyone close to me. I don't want to scare these innocent ears.

I don't want to hear how it will all be okay. How it'll work out in the end.

Because really...will it?

1 comment:

  1. This is so familiar to me. Self harm has never been a struggle of mine (unless you count all the harmful ways I am unhealthy, like over eating), but I know the thoughts. I have the break downs. I'm here for you, friend. Love you.


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