i have a friend who is also bipolar. he has much more “typical” bipolar symptoms, no one ever doubts him unless they think he is schizophrenic. he rages from time to time. yells at people and punches walls and buries himself in a dark place for days and days. while i have always done the latter, its been nearly a decade since i had done the former.

until last weekend.

I dont know whats up lately, honestly. most of the time i feel fine, but every so often something is just completely, crushingly, overwhelming. almost 2 weeks ago i was in Cape Breton with work. I knew I was anxious. I could feel it. I almost didn’t go on the trip because of it. Boss suddenly throws giving a large presentation into my lap on zero notice. had a complete and total meltdown. as in went outside, sat on the ground and bawled and shook. Took 5 mg of ativan. passed out.

My brother was up from the states visiting, along with one of my nieces. I missed the first 2 days of the visit being in Cape Breton, but I spent the next 3 out at my parents with them. Those days were good. Well, if you ignore the fact that the reason he came here was because my grandfather is dying.

This weekend was pride, or gay christmas as it is affectionately known around here. its a big holiday for us, brandon and i always host it. but everyone was away… and then brandon went to cape breton for his moms birthday… so it was just me but everyone had already been invited so i had to do it anyway. this is probably where i should have enacted that self care thing my therapist always talks about.

my work participated in the pride parade on saturday (at my behest, hello equity officer). it was long. they made us marshall at noon, and then stand there for 2 hours with no water or food in the blazing hot sun BEFORE the 2 hour parade. it was 30 something degrees. my medication comes with a giant sticker that says “avoid sunlight”


so that didn’t go so great.
Actually the parade was fine, I handed out condoms mostly to middle aged ladies and the occasion lesbian (sorry). But then I came home. and died. heat exhaustion is a terrible, terrible thing. so much vomit. so much cant move. so much tired.

my apartment was half clean when people arrived. i also wasnt dressed or ready at all and had just thrown up. again. jon and amanda basically set up the entire party and finished cleaning for me because i couldnt stand up.

party happened. i did ok-ish through it. I missed going to refs even though i had a bracelet. kind of happy about it though because im always worried about seeing the rapist. all my friends went to refs, and then crashed at my house. i continued being sick.

nicole flew in the next morning and amber and sav went to get her; they didnt wake me up. They decided they wanted to go swimming (in my pool) once nicole was there, and asked if i wanted to come. when i said no they said ‘ok i guess we will see you later then.’ …again. in MY pool. then they decide to go to lunch first. do not invite me. then they come and go swimming in my pool. in the interim, my parents try to park in their parking spot, but sav is parked in it. my dad starts to get them towed but they happen to come into the garage and tell my parents that their my friends, so my dad doesnt tow them. they dont. move. the. car. and my parents end up parking on the street. meanwhile, im at home, in my apartment, sick as hell, now not from heat stroke but from the fact that i vomited up all of my medication for the past 14 hours and have officially gone into withdrawal. i clean up my entire apartment from the party i ‘hosted’ but didnt attend, by myself. they left half eaten poutine and steak sandwiches all over my floor. the air mattress and blankets they used were strewn about my living room. bottles were everywhere. they didnt even do the bare minimum fold up you bedding post party cleaning.

they text me to come let them into my apartment from my pool.

annnnnnd i lost it. i could feel it surging. it felt like an out of body experience to be so engulfed in anger and rage that i was shaking but i was so anxious i had spent the morning having misc bawling spells and clawing my arms open because thats what happens with i throw up my meds.

i yellllled at them. and honestly, they kind of fucking deserved it. these arent casual acquaintances. they are supposed to be my best friends. it was awkward. they got weird. then nicole could see how badly i was shaking (from about 5 feet away) and hugged me. and theeeeeen i started bawling. and panicking. and ran into my room and collapsed on the floor and couldnt breathe. and bawling. for a solid 10 minutes. none of the 4 of them had ever seen any actual evidence of my actual mental illness before. it was awkward. nicole sat with me. eventually i stopped bawling so much but was still basically convulsing with shakes. i apologized for yelling. amber apologized for being a dick, sav and robb say nothing. sav and robb left. nicole amber and i spend the night watching movies in between my throwing up food. amber brought me gatorade.

next day i went to work for a staff meeting, that was fine. came home afterwards. laid in bed and starred at the wall for awhile. got up and went to all you can eat sushi with sav nicole and amber. didnt eat, obviously. went to board room cafe with a bunch of people. came home. weirdly numb. bad mental health day.

slept in today. wrote half of a paper. my parents showed up because they were taking my grandmother out and my mom knew i wasnt doing well and they really wanted me to come. i was supposed to be working. i went anyway, because, lets be honest, i wasnt exactly progressing anything. it was actually really nice, we drove up to the places my grandmother and parents used to live, where they got married, schools my brothers attended. got food. came home. and here we are. basically starring at the ceiling again.

i need to finish that paper tonight. its not going to happen.
but im not killing myself. and not killing myself is happening in place of the paper writing. so thats just going to have to be that.
i dont… know.


i went to my psychiatrist the other week and he increased my mood stabilizers. it makes me tired tired tired. im operational in bouts of 4-5 hours, really. brandon is in cape breton, and im happy about it. i love him but the apartment is actually clean when he isnt here. and i know with absolute certainty that being in a dirty place with this level of anxious and depressed would extrapolate things to degrees i do not wish to think about. i am dreading his coming home.

so. thats all.
therapy in the morning.