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.
manny said,
October 30, 2010 at 12:24 pm
people who have a manic episode usually have the blessing that past a certain point they do not remember what took place. It is a grace that helps them recover. perhaps you could sit with someone you trust and remove reminders of that time. you were not responsible for your actions at that time and your family and great friends understand that. We love you and are biding the time till you get back your equilibrium. xxx