Day 278 – Fight or flight
Today was a truly terrible day, after the high of last night I actually woke up feeling okay and was desperate to head for home. I do not know what it was that sent me into a downward spiral, perhaps it was looking at my clothes in the hospital closet or considering yesterday’s verdict that I must stay here for at least another week, but it began and it did so with vengeance.
After a run in with another patient, who decided to fall over me, and a mistake with my phone where I thought I forwarded a text from my manic phase to tens of recipients I started to flip out. I couldn’t see a way to fix the mistake and all of a sudden my fight or flight response came into play. I was leaving and that was the end of it. I grabbed my coat, a little bit of money and made to leave but the staff were having none of it and neither were the patients.
I was considered too distraught to be thinking properly and to be fair the fact that I was considering getting a taxi to a home with no keys to hand could be a sign they were right. The problem with this illness is that I have moments when I can just about bear to be here but others where the flight mode kicks in and I want to run far from here.
All I could think was that there was no getting out of this depression and that therefore I could either sit and wait for it to swallow me whole or run while I still had the energy to fight it. I desperately want to return to my life or to somewhere other than where I am at the moment but I did not have the energy to do so. My real life seems unattainable at the minute but that does not stop me when consumed by worry wanting it back as a man in a desert wants water.
The problem is that even while readying myself for a journey to take me away from this mood and from this place there was a part of me that knew I was not ready to go. In the end I went on a walk with a member of staff but I was still so crippled by tears that I kept collapsing into myself and looking at every car and bus that passed as a way of gaining escape.
I feel as though I have run out of ways to fight this illness and subsequently all I want to do is run from it. In the end I had little choice but to take something to keep the edge of the anxiety, a handy little drug that left my thoughts of fleeing far away from my focus. I spent the rest of the day in a daze and with visitors I was even more lacking in lucidity than ever before.
It turned out that the cause of the anxiety, the fear of the gone awry text was only a fear. All I had managed to do was to send blank texts to everyone, yet the worry and the panic were so real. The issue with the other patient was resolved with a few sharp words from friends of mine but I still feel so scared and strange around everyone.
I miss the days when this blog was just about the dresses and the life of a girl who was living yet coping with bipolar.
Day 277 – A little ray of sunshine through the clouds of a dreary day
I am writing this post at 12.25am because if I wait until the morning the low will kick in again and I shall have neither the energy nor the inclanation for writing nor recording.
Things have been pretty bad all day, tears and tantrums but the clouds have cleared and I am once again hopeful and loving life. I am tired but I don’t want to go to sleep because of the possibility that I may wake up again in the morning with clouds over my eyes.
In my worse moments I have wondered off the ward, desperate, utterly desperate for escape from this low one way or another. I walked for as long as I could to try and take the sting out of the anxiety but it did not work.
What is worse for my family and friends who came to see me today is that I was still in the low patch when they visited and now I am on cloud nine. It is a source of great frustration to me that during the lows I cannot remember the highs and I can see no way that it can lift.
I have decided to keep going with the blog while I am in here. In the interests of my health I will not be updating the seven days from last week as it is just too bleak a period to blog back upon.
Hopefully things will pick up and the blogs will not all be doom and gloom but I want to carry it on and I hope that you will all forgive me if there are a few off days.
I am tired now, fingers crossed for a brighter day tomorrow or failing that a high that starts before 10pm at night.
Day 276 – Spinning round in circles
I want to go home, desperately I do but it seems as though I am caught in a web and the world just keeps on spinniing. In one breath I want to leave the ward, to go back to my wonderful house and in another I know that it is not the best place for me to be for I am not safe.
I am a prisoner of my own thoughts; they are all consuming and I so desperately want them to leave me in peace. I cannot see things improving and by all means it seems that today has been worse than ever before. People come to visit me and I do not know what to say. It is not normal to feel this way but I do and it is awful. In conversations about even the most trivial of subjects I become lost and I fail to keep up with even the slightest change of topic.
The tears keep on coming and the misery is deep inside me. I keep thinking this is not me, this is not my life and this is not my home. I should not be here I tell myself but feeling as I do where else can I go. I feel constantly alone and am racked with guilt about all that happened during the manic phase.
I need to look forwards, to treat each day at a time but all I can do is look back and think over all the awful things I said. I can tell myself I was scared, frightened and alone. I can tell myself it was entirely unavoidable but was it? I do not know but I am stuck here and have far too much time to think.
I try to distract myself but nothing works. I cannot read a page of a book or even focus on the titillating tales of a trashy magazine.
My doctor makes comparisons with mental illness and a physical condition. It seems he thinks that I must learn to compare it to a broken leg or a dysfunctional immune system, but this is a lot harder than it sounds as there are no obvious or outward symptoms.
I want to go home but I have no place to go and it feels as though there is nobody upon this earth who can understand what it is that I am going through.
Day 275 – Falling off the line
The blog, my head, my work and my life, all of it has fallen by the wayside. I am hopeless at the moment, in hospital all over again this time with the flipside of the bipolar, the depression or as they are referring to it the dip. I know that I am a week behind with posts and I would like to say that they are written but they are not.
I am low and it seems that though I feel wretched there is a possibility according to the professionals that I may not have yet reached the true depth of the dip.
I am out of dresses and though I can bare nothing and nobody I feel dreadfully alone. I keep thinking this is not my life. I wanted to make the world a better place, to show others that it can be brighter, that life can improve and that things can get better but we have had nearly six weeks of this now and it has hacked away at my spirit, ground it down to dust.
Day 274 – And then the rains came
The depression is back and though it was predicted by the psych I feel so frustrated that it has returned. It is like a disease that grips you like a claw leaving you weak and powerless to do anything but watch as it leaks into every happy thought you ever had turning it all to hell. I have no idea what to do and how to stop it, I feel powerless and totally alone. I tried to eat, I tried to sleep, I tried to rationalise it away but it is nearly night and still it remains.
The crisis team came and I was so frustrated because there was nothing they could do to make it go away. Why is there not a pill that works for me, why does it keep coming back and why god why is this still happening to me.
I want it to end and I know that this is not the perspective of a well and rational being but I do. I have been through hell the last few weeks and still there is more to come. Why can it not go, why does it keep coming back and why can’t I stop it?
I feel sick with anxiety about everything in my life and though I feel more lonely than I can ever remember there is nobody I want to see. I speak to the boy and get angry because he does not understand then I feel guilty because it is not his fault and he is trying so hard.
The problem is that I hate myself on days like this. I look in the mirror and I see a hideous human being. A person who cannot cope, who is letting everyone down and who does not do enough for her friends or family. I feel utterly unloved but equally like a person who does not deserve to be loved. The s word is creeping in from the back of my mind and though there is still some small part of my mind able to hold it off it feels like it is growing and I don’t know what to do.
I do not trust the hospitals and I cannot properly talk to the crisis team as I fear they will want to see me back inside. I cannot go back to that place I just can’t but I don’t want this to carry on. I am going to give up on today, to write it off and just go to sleep praying that tomorrow it will have passed that it is just a blip and that it will stop. I look forward to the day when this disease, this awful thing will be all just an awful memory buried at the back of the mind. I do not know how much more of it I can take.
Day 273 – Here come the girls
Today has been bloody brilliant. My girls who I have known since my university days came down to see me today and we had a wonderful time. They are an absolute giggle a minute and we try to get together as often as our lives allow. These are the same girls who have stuck by me in spite of my tendency to go underground when I get ill and they have never given up on me no matter how many phone calls I avoid.
Though I was due to host our get together there was talk of calling it off due to concerns I wasn’t up to it but in truth I needed something to look forwards to and they never fail to cheer me up. We refer to all our get togethers as Brownie Camps which is a little odd but had something to do with a night out where a lot of wine was drunk.
The best thing about their visit was that I was able to relax and just enjoy it and though my illness was a topic it did not I hope dominate as I did not want it to do. One of the girls, a sweetheart who is always there for me when I am going through my crazy phases, is getting married in a years time and we are all so happy for her the chat tended to swing towards talk of her wedding and our future generally.
These are the kind of friends, we all have them, who you cannot see for a year but there is no awkward silences or any annoyance about a lack of contact. They are intelligent, beautiful and independent women and they make those idiots on the apprentice look like a pack of hyenas. I love them all dearly and if I ever get married they will join with my older friends in being bridesmaids though I may make them wear brownie badges.
We indulged ourselves a lot and for the first time in months I actually allowed myself to get a little bit tipsy, or a lot. I know that I should not have done but it was nice to feel normal again and being with them was a breath of fresh air that I needed. They know me and do not judge me for what I have been through as we have all had problems in the past but know that no matter what we are there for one another.
It has been a long time since I have felt able to talk about the future but they help me to see again and it is not long before I am joining in with plans about trips abroad and our next reunion. It is all too easy when you are depressed to hide away but I am so glad that they came to stay. I had feared that embarrassment about the last few weeks would leave me shy and that I would seem to them changed but they just made me feel so normal again and it was a fantastic feeling.
Though we live in different places and our careers are varied we keep in contact and I know these girls will be in my life for the rest of forever. I remember my mother telling me that the friends you meet at university will be friends always and with these three I know it to be the case.
Day 272 – The horrific statistic that demands attention
While flicking through tweets today I came across a statistic that sickened me. There is now an average waiting list of three years to receive counselling on the NHS. This shocked me as to be honest I know that in our district it is more like 18 months but nevertheless this average is worrying.
One of the things that has helped me overcome my illness over the last few months has been having someone independent of my life to talk things over with. Thanks to my counsel I have become better at having perspective on the triggers of my illness and the root causes of my problems. All too often drugs are given as the first answer as the waiting list is all too long. While inside I met a man who was lovely but who had problems. All he needed was someone to talk to but this was not a service that could be provided even inside a mental health institution.
The statistic is an embarrassment to our health service because of the serious symptoms involved with mental health problems. People who need help need it now not in three years time and if one has to wait this long things can get bad alarmingly fast. Thanks to a combination of counselling alongside attempts to find the perfect pill my bouts of depression have reduced considerably in size. Even last year an episode of depression could last as long as three months and now these days it can be as little as a week.
It hurts my heart to think that there are all these people out there who are not able to afford counselling who are going unheard. Their problems may be more or less severe than mine but because of a shortage of appointments they are being ignored. The difference between talking to a counsellor and a friend is that the counsellor is entirely independent therefore when you come out with an uncomfortable statement they do not take it to heart. Some of the things that can be said inside a room where confidentiality is assured and judgement is left outside the door can be hard to hear for a friend or relative.
I am aware that cut backs must be made but I feel strongly that this is a place where money needs to be spent and soon. People don’t just suffer with mental health problems they can die of them. The suicide rate has increased and still the government seems to be dragging its feet on doing something about it.
In some ways I cannot afford to keep having counselling, my finances are taking a hit and someday I struggle to see a way to pay the bills while continuing to see her. The problem is that at the same time I cannot afford not to continue as it is a crutch there for me that if I did not have I would fall. People who are suffering from head poorly need to be listened to and we need the government to listen to that need. They cannot stand by while people die because they had to wait too long to be heard.
Day 271 – The tiny stepping stones to success
So I did it, I actually managed to return to work. It was tiring and when I got in after nearly a full day there I was ready to collapse but still I managed it and was even able to turn out some copy.
It is all about taking it slow and there were times I had to check myself and hold back but I am pleased. Having success from doing these tiny little steps does help me out a lot and though I am exhausted I did it and it feels good to be back at work doing the job that I love.
A lot of my fear while on the inside is that work would decide that I was just too much of a risk. I feel so embarrassed about the time I have taken off as it has fallen to my colleagues to pick up the slack and though they never once made me feel bad about it nevertheless I know everyday I was away was a strain on them all. There have been times during the last six months when I have been ill when I felt it was prudent to resign so as to allow someone stronger to take my place. I am glad though that I didn’t as this job is my dream and all the while I was ill it was the thought of getting back to doing what I loved that kept me going.
I am an extremely lucky girl as I work at a place where they do their best to support me in the tough times. Not everyone who suffers from depression or what I do is able to do this and I am grateful that I landed a job at a place where they strive to make it easier for me. I have heard horror stories about bosses who do not take such a kind stance when it comes to mental illness and I am only to aware of how lucky I am.
Now though I must go to sleep so I can do this all over again tomorrow. It is tiring, truly it is, but I am at work and with each tiny step I take I am getting back to being the me that I so desperately want to once again be.
Day 270 – Preparing for a return to reality
Tomorrow I will return to work and though this is surely a good thing I am full to the brim with nerved. Past experience has taught me that thankfully I work in an office where there is support, understanding and kindness. Sadly this is not the first time I have had to take time off work but in some ways it is good as I know there are people who will be there for me and who are great as they will not ask awkward questions.
To get my mind off tomorrow and the fear that I will in one way or another fail at work I treated myself a little today. I hoped that if my nails were done and my legs were waxed that I would feel a little more like a normal person again. Credit must go to the beauty therapist I saw today whose spa is located in St Mary’s Place in Harborough. Her spa is called the Wellbeing and Beauty salon and thanks to her I now look a lot more like me even if I still feel tired and dowdy looking.
I am writing this with nicely manicured nails and smooth legs but I still fear that I will fail come tomorrow. Sometimes I wonder whether the blog is a good thing given how much of myself I tend to spill into these pages and the fact that when times are tough it can quickly become just another stress on a long list of worries.
My Grandma is a worrier and I have inherited this trait from her. I wish I could be stronger but at the moment I feel so weak and worried about all that lays before me. My head is filled with questions of what ifs and regrets about what has happened over the last month. I hope it goes okay come the morning but I am tired and scared and though I look like a lady I feel like a little girl unable to pick up the shattered pieces of a life gone awry.
Day 269 – The return of the crisis team
The crisis team are back in my life and though I know they are there to do a job and to make sure I am well I hate that they have to be involved. I am trying to stay out of my thoughts and seeing them means I have to look inward once again and it is not a place I want to be looking right now.
There are the basic things they must check upon, eating and sleeping and how things are generally. The truth is that I hate my body and I hate how much sleep I seem to need at the moment. I desperately want to be back to normal, eating when I am hungry not when the new tablets demand it. I have put on weight and though I know this is a good thing when I look in the mirror I hate what I see.
I seem to be sleeping too much yet when I wake I am still tired. When I am normal or perhaps when I am high I do not need to sleep this much and I can therefore get a lot more done. This is unhealthy I know and I need to just realise that I cannot do as much as I could five weeks ago but it is all taking a toll on me and leaving me rather low.
Work is a bone of contention because I desperately want to be able for it but I am struggling to get to that place. Even the blog, this thing that can at times help feels like a hindrance and just another way that I am failing to perform. I got behind with the posts in hospital and I am so desperate to catch up but again this means looking back. If I look back or too far forward anxiety kicks in and stress starts to set in along the way.
I want to be the girl I was before I went into hospital, I want to feel like me but free of all of this angst. It is a terrible thing to say but there are days like today when it all just feels too much and I wonder whether I should have stayed as an inpatient as handling this illness is hard and though I know I am not doing it alone and that the crisis team are here to help in reality there seems to be so little that they can do.
What I want is a solution but they have none to offer and this leaves me feeling blue as what is the point of talking to them when there is so little that can be done to fix this awful thing. I fear the depression returning especially on days like this when there is a dip in my mood. I have had good days and maybe I will have them again but at the moment it’s tough and I fear more than anything the return of the black dog. When will I be me again?
