I have so much to Say, that I don't even know where to start. Things have been bad, worse that they have for a very long time. Sometimes I think it was easier when I didn't know I was bipolar. I could have lived with the "bitch" title...and the "there she goes again...depressed, what the hell is wrong with her".
In some ways the knowing is much worse, because instead of viewing myself as bad, I know I am ill and I know what I have to do to fix it.
The mania this time was filled with rage. I raged at a counselor whom I respect, about all kinds of things. I did this via email, so I felt an extra layer of safety.
A couple of weeks have gone by and I am not not able to move from a prone postion. I have a plan for suicide, but it seems once I voice it, it makes it null and void. My plan was to fill my car with gas...poke a hole in m tail pipe....have rags to stuff in it...go for a ride into the bush. I would take a book I love, and read until I just fell asleep. Nothing about life feels worth it. People would be better off...really. I am not just saying that, its true.
My kids and the thought of them is enough to give me pause, but my fear is one day I will not allow myself to go there in my head. What a disgusting mother.
PTSD has kicked in full force, and for no apparent reason. I am paranoid. Certain smells are causing terror....having to go out into public makes my legs buckle....for a vain person, I am not taking very good care of myself. What is comeing up for me....what is trying to break through. Whatever it is, I am not ready.
Then there is the stress of my husband. We are waiting to hear when he has his open heart surgery, and of course I worry.
My meds are not working....not one bit, I sleep about 2 hours a night, I have lost 27 pounds.....and I have no energy;
I have no more to say tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
Laurie
Poetry Book
4 years ago