home.

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i moved home from my parents on wednesday. i was gone for three months. im not sure if this is an achievement or if i did it too soon or too late, but it’s a milestone none the less.

i wish i had written more here when things were flying off the handle, mostly because i have such severe memory gaps and i cant understand the place of things. i remember the truly scary parts and some of the mundane parts but i feel like im missing a lot. its always strange to feel like you only partially understand whats happened to you.

anyway. on to current life.

im 3 chapters from done the book content of my stats class. then i have my exam on the 14th worth 60% of my grade.  im afraid of that one. i find it so hard to learn just from a book. engaging professors have always been a necessity for me. even shitty profs are better than no profs. i actually get a lot out of lecture based classes.

im still registered to start grad school in the fall. im still hesitant about actually doing it. im just not sure i can do it, if i can move back into that feeling of life, that level of stress. i want to talk to my therapist about it but i cant afford to go regularly so there not much point. i just feel a little lost and scared. im 31 and i cant seem to take care of myself. and not only that but everything seems to be getting worse, im getting stronger weirder symptoms that last for longer periods of time. im noticing my “normal” symptoms a lot more in my daily life. but i can feel what my therapist was talking about when he said he thinks i should work for a major company with steady hours and health care and all that and not go back to school or keep working at start ups that hinge so much on your going at a break neck pace.

im afraid of going back to the break neck pace.

im not afraid of failing, which used to petrify me from a personal standpoint and now mostly bothers me from a financial one. im afraid of regressing backwards into my bipolar symptoms and doing the actions that i know trigger my symptoms, now that my symptoms are a lot worse than they were before.

i need a therapist but my therapist is against my going to school at all and i just feel like thats an unhelpful position.

im scared im never going to be able to actually take care of myself, emotionally or financially. im not so much scared as resolved to the fact ill be alone in the future, which in itself is not a problem but the two combined makes for a scary picture. where do i go? what do i do? how do i continue after age 40?

for a long time i avoided thinking about it because i assumed id have killed myself by then, which is still possible but feels much more unlikely than it has in the past. but because of this i havent really figured out what im going to do in 10 years when im unable to use my parents as support, when im supposed to be a full fledged adult doing adult things living a relatively stable if boring life.

i dont know.  i think its always been easier to plan for no future than to plan for the one i will have if i dont die. i havent taken care of my health like i would have if i thought id live this long. i never thought id live this long. i dont know if i want to, realistically, live past 40 if my life is going to shape up how i feel it will. but thats not to say i want to die, per say. like not in a suicidal kind of way.

i dont know how to handle going forward. i feel like the treading water that used to scare me so much is the only safe place i have left.

 

 

Summary

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I havent been here. I dont know why I havent, exactly, but I think its because this episode was filled with agitation more than depression, and it was too hard to concentrate to write. ive been in this state for 3 months now, so no writing came.  I cant promise what will come from here, but the agitation has mostly simmered.  For now, this is my mental illness oriented summary of June, for my future self


June was the third month of my mixed episode with psychotic features. It started in April, just before visiting Joe. April was filled mainly with anxiety attacks, panic, inability to function, and severe agoraphobia, with some low low periods. I worsened considerably throughout May, experiencing extreme heightened sensory experiences (like sounds being too loud and jumbled together, inability to parse sound, and very bright visual colors), as well as one brief psychotic-like episode where I felt like the universe was comforting me through the radio in a grocery store. I was severely agitated throughout May and into the first half of June. May was the height of my mixed episode features. I started a symptom tracker book in a bit of a frenzy, trying to find a pattern in my symptoms so I could somehow stop them. This was a grandiose idea, but I do find it very beneficial right now.

Near the beginning of June I started anti psychotic medication which helped significantly to calm things down. Things began to improve from there, but I was still having down days and occasionally being completely out of it (molasses or extreme agitation). Recently I was given sleep meds which seem to be getting me a solid 8 hours for now.

I have been living with Mom and Dad since May and will likely remain here for a few weeks (if not more) of July. Having the constant social contact helped a lot, and Mom and Dad are always a good support system. I am comfortable here and afraid to leave. My friends havent really been in the picture except for Brandon, who was really the only one who noticed something was wrong when I disappeared.

I started the stats class I need to complete in order to start grad school in the fall, and I’m managing most days, though the timeline is extremely tight now, given the late start. Its stressful, but also nice to be focusing on my brain function in a positive way again.

Jeff and Brandy had a Eleanor (Nori) on June 29th, and she is healthy and very very cute. Im still figuring out how to transition home, be helpful for J&B and the kids, but also not set myself back. There have been days where I couldn’t be near people- even them- and had to hide in the dark. I don’t want Wes and Lucy to see that or feel that from me, so managing that is my main concern about moving home. I’m super close with Wes right now, mostly because he seems to enjoy being around me more than Lucy, but I’m trying to be there for them both, and now nori too.

In short, June was still having the sawtooth up and downs, but the ups lasted a bit longer and the downs didn’t go so far down, and slowly I think I’m getting better. I also became an aunt again, which Im sure will feel more real in a few days. There’s been progress, but not perfection, which is my new motto to strive for.

I’ve gone through the worst and I’m climbing my way out, one bit at a time.

Dear Joe

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I’ve always wondered who you imagine me to be, in your head. Because much like I know you mostly through mom and dads recaps, reading abstracts of your scientific papers and vague childhood memories combined with yearly visits with screaming children at the forefront, I know it cant be very accurate. I know from the last visit that you don’t really understand much of what’s wrong with me, or how that impacts my life, and really, I don’t either. But what has become clear is that your mental version of me has little to do with the reality of my life right now. I wonder if the same is true for me with you?

I was put on thorazine recently, because sounds became louder than they were, louder than they could be, louder than any single thing and instead a chorus of many. Colors got brighter, brighter, brighter, until the ceiling started to look pink and it got a bit unnerving.

Thorazine is an anti psychotic medication, with the benefit of being an extreme tranquilizer as a side effect. Its always hard to say how much of these things is caused by my seemingly incessant state of extreme sleep deprivation, and how much is part of a bipolar symptom. I think the general conclusion is a little bit of column a, little bit of column b.

Thorazine is the brand name. My psychiatrist only refers to it by its generic name, and im unsure if this is because its simpler or if he was hoping I wouldn’t look into a seemingly innocuous name of yet another drug I shove in my body – which, to be fair, its rather surprising I did, given my current state. But I did. Apparently it’s the first, like the literal first, anti psychotic medication ever produced. There’s whole songs written about ‘thorazine dreams’ and ‘the thorazine shuffle’ and all those good dead and drooling side effects that characterize all patients who took it for decades. This is oddly not much of a deal to me. I think, at my stage, you don’t get to think about quality of life in the same way as the average person. Yes, taking this may cause all sorts of things, but are those sorts of things worse than seeing in technicolor acid trip swirls or thinking a song played through a grocery store speaker was the universe trying to send you a message? Because I feel like there’s a tipping point that comes after that that I don’t want to see.

I’m very clearly losing my grip on interpreting my reality correctly. I am not, however, actively psychotic, because I catch myself, to an extent. Like I know the ceiling should not be pink, as I know it is not painted pink, and I can usually make that logical connection. Therefore I am in, as my doctor says, “the funky stuff”.

Possibly the most frightening realization Im having is that I can understand how delusions work now. Its not something that sort of… appears and you suddenly believe you’re Christ and think you can save the world, or whatever the fuck the stereotypical thing of delusional people is. It’s the little things.

I was at the grocery store with mom, because I live with them now, because I cant function as a human. Not sure if anyone told you that yet. My apartment remains but I don’t exist in it and the idea of it makes me a bit uneasy. But I digress. The grocery store. Mom wondered away to get lemon and left me with the cart and the task of getting yogurt. I was very… alarmed inside. My doctor calls it heightened sensory perception, which is how he explains the Technicolor and such, but I wasn’t seeing things. I was just very alarmed, and suddenly very, very frightened. And I tried to reason with myself as I pushed the cart the 10 feet to the yogurt section, my fingers gripped around the cart handle, but people were in the way and I couldn’t get there and the fear just escalated so quickly. And I know you think I mean anxiety, but I don’t. I mean pure fear. Like falling out of a ten-story window accidentally.

Then suddenly I hear the store radio start playing a Billy Joel song. One of the ones mom used to play in the kitchen while we (well, I) was little. It was like a tidal wave of comfort. I felt for sure the universe was trying to provide me comfort. To take the fear away from me, personally, that this event was someone meaningful beyond mere coincidence. Part way through the song mom showed up and I was following along behind her sort of half mumbling the words to the song, catching my breath, basking in the sweet relief. She had no idea any of this happened. The song changed to something I didn’t know, and I swear to god I felt like the universe had abandoned me. Hit like a ton of bricks. Mom asks if I need to go outside but I tell her I just need to stay by her now, and she continues about her shopping while I snap back into reality enough to realize what the fuck was happening and how my brain was rebelling against logic without me. She doesn’t know any of that happened. I took an abnormally long time trying to pick a breakfast cereal. My eyes were probably really wide and I probably talked sporadically, but I don’t think shed have noticed much at all.

And isn’t that scary? That you don’t notice?

But the scary part for me is that I can see the logical connection to those feelings and normal rational feelings I would have had in that situation if I were just, say, anxious. Music is one of my calming tools it is what I do to distract myself from my other senses or to cheer myself up. That song making me feel better wasn’t illogical. But it didn’t make sense.

That’s now a thing I haven’t to consider more than I really know how. Over or under pathologizing behaviour isn’t very helpful but believing the universe is speaking to you isn’t exactly a symptom you can let slide, when you’re able to recognize it as a symptom.

So I take thorazine. It makes me sleep, so the sleep deprivation is gone, but the “funky stuff” still lingers so the dose is being increased. Although this stuff would usually be considered part of a manic episode, the fact that I’m also horribly depressed for large swaths of time indicate it’s a mixed episode. In other words, we have barely scratched the surface of the emotional well of crazy that is your sister.

I wonder how much that mental image of me has changed now. Do we know each other well enough that this is just a thing about me, or is it starting to define me, more than you want it to?

 

mixed, with no blessing

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i legitimately have no idea where to start or what to say or what the important bits are, anymore. im just going to ramble and see what floats to the top.

ill start with the obvious.  im in the middle of a (diagnosed) mixed episode. its been a month now. still going strong. things have been… unsettling.

my sister came down for a week because its her birthday, and this happened to coincide with my doctor cutting my wellbutrin dose in half (complicated story, simplified:  anti depressants bad. mood stabilizers good. lowered mood stabilizers, increased anti depressants, bad things happen. like mixed episodes that last for over a month).  This is a dramatic decrease, obviously, and because im me and im sensitive as fuck to medication, i obviously got some stupid withdrawal symptoms for a week. so the two combined and i stayed with my parents until they left today to drive amy back to new brunswick.

i never actually wrote about the trip to philly to see my brother here, and i still cant really, i mean i should, theres definitely stuff to say, and if i could string a coherent thought together i would, but basically my mixed episode started on the trip, manifested as intense anxiety and panic attacks with lots of mood shifts, i was a fucking wreck. my brother didnt know how to handle it. his family really didnt know how to handle it. i didnt know what to do. i avoided everyone a lot. i cried a lot. hysterically. hysterical is the word i would use to describe the experience.  i think joe and i got a lot closer? in the end? and i think he realized we dont actually know each other very well, considering we are siblings. it was interesting. and a mess.

things calmed down for the last few days of the trip (mood shifted up). then we got home and the mood went down but everything else stayed up up up. all the agitation. none of the sleep. all of the rapid thoughts. none of the happy.

ive been in some weird cluster of mismatched bipolar symptoms for a long time, but at any given time, what these mismatched symptoms are is a complete surprise to everyone, including me. so far the most noticeable have been extremely suicidal, extremely tired, very very very agitated, completely enraged, pumped full of adrenalin, spontaneous crying, hyper vigilance, and pressing thoughts. very few of the so called positive effects of mania.

but then.

then there are the concerning things.

yes, but definition, i guess i am implying that the previous symptoms do not merit ‘concerning’, in so much as, ‘part of being bipolar, sometimes’.

when we chopped the wellbutrin off at he knees, initially it had some very positive effects. the agitation definitely reduced. the thoughts slowed down a bit. i slept through the night for a couple days. then i slept all day, too. then i started getting sick every morning until my dose kicked in (because we cut my night dose). but like, overall good. thought that might be done.

but no.

ive been getting the scary symptoms again.

the ones ive only every gotten when extremely manic, or in a psychotic mixed state.

colors got super super bright for awhile. just like five hours here or there. only it wasnt with the exuberance that happens with mania. and then the worst symptom. the symptom i try to explain to people and they think im describing like an adhd symptom but i am really really really not.

all sounds become very very loud, and they all scramble together into a big lump. the volume doesnt bother me, like it doesnt hurt or anything, i just can. not. untangle. the. noise.

we were playing a board game and people were talking and the pieces were clicking and cards were being shuffled and the dog was sleeping and the fridge was humming and someone was talking on the street outside and amy was knitting and all the sounds all the sounds all the sounds. they get maxed out. everything at max volume and max intensity. with no ability to sort through them. like. all the sounds happen all the time, and everyone takes in all that info all the time, but our brains focus in on the bits that are important and ignore the rest, most of the time. thats why you dont usually hear yourself breathing, and how you can have conversations in coffee shops. and when i try to explain it people think im just constantly getting distracted by sounds we dont normally notice (like the fridge humming). but thats not it. its that all the sounds come in together, smooshed up, and i cant tell that that is the humming of the fridge or that that persons voice and the humming of the fridge arent the same noise.  i just. i cant explain it. but then there becomes this.. space. this layer of padding between me and all of my senses. i jut stop being able to take in any information or make sense of anything im hearing, and then seeing, and then sometimes i get extremely aware of all the sensations of my body that you dont normally notice (jeans on leg, pressure of chair, hair on arm, etc), and it all comes with an extreme sense of confusion and being overwhelmed. and then, its like my mind pops, a giant 404 error, and complete disassociation begins. but i wouldnt call it anxiety, while its happening (though definitely anxiety producing after the fact). and it can last hours and i cant make it stop. sometimes days. and all i can do is basically curling in a ball in the dark in as close to silence as i can manage and hope i can sleep until it goes away.

for me, everytime this has happened, ive been diagnosed as either being psychotic or having psychotic symptoms shortly after.

i dont know if thats happening. i dont know if like, the wellbutrin was pushing me in that direction but the sudden drop like staved it off and now im going to be fine.

i dont know whats coming.

i have never been in a position before to identify symptoms of psychosis. if you can identify them, is it really psychosis?

like i dont know how this works

i dont really consider psychosis and a standard part of my illness, but its not an unprecedented occurrence.

i dont know i dont know i dont know.

writing this is the longest ive been coherent and stable in ages.

im very tired now.

I got into grad school

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I found out like a 2 weeks ago, while I was in Philly.  I told my parents, without too much bluster, and they told Joes family, and we celebrated, kinda, a little, while we were there (there were lots of things happening, Joe got tenure! its easter! its my birthday! im having a mental breakdown!).. so it was a bit of a weird reception…. and then… then I didn’t tell anyone. At all. And theres quite a bit of story to tell in that. But for once, I’m just going to keep that seperate.

This is my thing.  This is THE thing I have been trying to do for years. And I got in. I got in with a scholarship that completely covers my tuition.

I just want that to breathe. I want that to be the part of this I go back and read about in the future.

And I know that getting in and going to school does not mean that I will finish it, or that I will do well. Hell, it doesn’t even mean I will successfully complete the stats refresher course I have to take before starting the program.  And I know my therapist thinks this is a horrible idea, and I know he might be right. I know these past 2 years have basically been an example of exactly how I am not invincible to the socioeconomic effects of mental illness, and that it is not unlikely that I will spend large amounts of my future in some combination of unable to work, living in poverty, working sporadically, and maybe just feeling accomplished to hold a job of any kind.  and I get that. But I’ve also decided I can’t just let that truth dictate my goals. There is a solid argument that I shouldn’t do this, one my therapist has made many times, one that mostly surrounds failing and making myself sicker. But the financial impacts of trying are pretty small – thanks to scholarships – and I think the benefit of trying will outweigh the prospect of failing. I would forever regret not trying.

So this is it. This moment is a culmination of every fibre of perseverance, strength and that nagging sense of hope in my soul.

I’m going to grad school.

 

so.

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ok.

so.

i havent been writing because ive havent been feeling or doing literally anything. so there was nothing to say. i also stopped communicating with all but a handful of people.

but.

now.

ive been avoiding writing this for awhile. i dont know what to say. but we are at the point in the spiral where the talking needs to start happening, and because im no longer in therapy because i am broke as fuck, i guess this is now when the writing needs to start happening.

so.

for several months my mood has been shifting from ‘wow, this is what its like to have normal level emotions?’ to ‘uh. im not sure i like normal level emotions…’ to ‘…wait, do i even have emotions now?’ to ‘no…nope i dont’.

I saw my psychiatrist three or four times during this decline. To recap, in the fall he had upped my mood stabilizers and taken down my wellbutrin (anti anxiety/depression meds), and then sometime in like december? i cut my clonazapram (anxiety)  in half because i wasnt feeling really anything, so i wasnt really feeling anxious and im trying not to build up my tolerance.

so. first visit:

me: im having trouble adjusting to not feeling things like i normally do. like it feels like my world is small and i dont know what to do. its making me feel like i am missing out on my proper existence. i know this doesnt make sense.

him: this is unfortunate but mostly normal. try seeing your therapist. we will keep an eye on it. (only nice).

second visit:

me: i always thought once i stopped being actively suicidal that would mean i gained some sort of will to live? but i dont have one. at all. i cant find a reason to get out of bed. i have no drive or motivation to do anything. im exhausted all the time. i dont feel sad, or chaotic, or out of control though, and im not suicidal, so this isnt anything like what i would call depression.

him: so, sounds like youre depressed, but your mood stabilizers are working. have more wellbutrin.

third visit:

me: nothing changed. im getting less and less interested in being alive and im completely apathetic to everything around me. still dont feel sad, or chaotic or suicidal, so it still doesnt feel like depression like i know depression.

him: ok, youre definitely depressed. its weird that the wellbutrin increase had no effect. lack of drive and motivation are side effects of your mood stabilizers. lets cut 75 mg off your total of those and see if that makes the wellbutrin work.

me now:

I FEEL ALL THE THINGS AND THEY ARE ALL BAD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD EVERYTHING IS AWFUL I CANNOT BREATHE HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK OUTSIDE IS HORRIFYING I CANT TALK TO PEOPLE HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK IM LITERALLY SO ANXIOUS I CANNOT FUNCTION HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK IM REALLY REALLY REALLY UPSET FOR NO REASON HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK

i cant give many concrete examples, because i have legitimately stopped leaving my house unless it is in a car with a family member, and usually only to my parents house or like, grocery shopping (which is its own little form of hell right now). this is the first of three major signs of when my anxiety crashes into my bipolar and i stop being a functioning human. step 1: agoraphobia step 2: intense fear of germs (see: scrubbing down showers for hours with tooth brushes, for example) step 3: extreme anxiety about animal life. things living underground start freaking me the fuck out. nature becomes extremely unsettling. how the universe is constructed becomes extremely unsettling. step 4: some sort of bipolar break down.

on saturday i had people come to my house.  i was supposed to go to brandons house twice during the week but i had to cancel both times because i couldnt leave my house and was super panicky (side note: it really bothers me that there is a ‘k’ in panicky), so i avoided the situation because i could. brandon kinda knows whats up, but not really. so. saturday. third time trying to make plans with brandon. he and sav have this thing where they watch rupauls dragrace together and the new season was starting and he wanted me to join. obviously, we learned leaving the house probably wasnt going to happen so they were going to come here. ok. then robb was going to come too. ok. day of: sleep schedule massively fucked up. already panicking about having people in my house. brandon invites kale too. i like all of these people. these are literally my best friends. i have a hyperventilating panic attack. i call my parents, stay on the phone for like an hour just basically being unable to talk and crying. brandon says they can go to savs if i cant do it. i eventually resolve to do it, 1 mg of clonazparam and 4 mg of ativan later. they come over. i have basically cleaned my whole apartment but i keep apologizing for how dirty it is because literally all i can see is the dirt of things that arent really that dirty (like the dust i missed while sweeping, and shit). it is mostly fine, and mostly a good night. first time watching dragrace, more enjoyable than expected. people leave around midnight, so basically 5 hours of company. they leave and i then start panicking and overanalyzing everything i said all night and whether or not kale hates me now (we have a convo about the trans guy on survivor and i think what i was trying to say came out wrong). fixate on this for several hours. dont sleep.

parents know i cant take the bus to their house for sunday dinner so they come get me. feeling mostly better and able to function around people, which is good because jeffs kids are there. exhausted, pass out at midnight and wake up at 10am. have moments of talking about my bipolar with my mom, which we dont really do. mostly stuff about being really uncertain what symptoms are coming and how everything is factoring in with possibly going to visit joe, and how joe, while family, having no experience with me as a mentally ill person, and how i dont know if thats something im going to do. manage to go to the grocery store on the way home today. mom had to do most of the work, but i was physically present so that is something.

i came home and cooked an actual meal – roasted a chicken and vegetables. ate that. watched an episode of girls.

so here we are.

i need to call my psychiatrist tomorrow and see if he will change my meds, or do something, because things are bad, and they seem like they are about to get a lot worse. im not scheduled to see him for four more weeks. i dont think anyone anticipated this med change throwing this sort of wrench into life. they weird part is, i dont think it actually changed anything, i think it just kind of ripped the plastic wrap off. like the complete numbness that was on the surface went away and all the horrible stuff underneath is now being felt again.

i guess the kind of fucked up part is i find that a bit of a relief.

now the overarching thing im worrying about -besides breathing, sleeping, the outside, people, public transportation, people touching me, the bipolar shitstorm that is coming, my complete lack of financial stability, etc –  is whether or not i should go to joes with my parents in april. its stressing me out a lot.

also, i got an email notification that theyd made a decision on my giant scholarship application but that i cant access the results of that decision until april 1. so thats unsettling. also im supposed to find out if i got in to grad school in a couple weeks. probably while id be in philly. im…. assuming i didnt get in and also very worried about how im going to handle that. i still dont know if ill go if i do get in. but i feel like having something lined up might help? i dont know.

ok. thats all. im starting to panic again.

on the scale of happy

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well, its a new year.  and everyone else is either retrospectively talking about 2016 or clamouring about the the new bullshit things theyre going to do in 2017. im uhhh.. gonna skip that. because a) i do not believe in new years resolutions. something about have a disease that causes you to have to rebuild your entire existence every so often makes these time based things seem futile. b) i dont find those posts particularly interesting (especially not the daily update posts about how you are still doing them! yay! you made it a whole 5 days!) and c) i have nothing to say about the events that happened to me in 2016 that hasnt already been said here, so thats all pretty redundant, no?

so its 2017.

i woke up at 530pm today. thats not a great sign. the kids came down at 630 and i was in pjs without a bra on and hadnt eaten yet and was honestly kind of still asleep? so that was good, because it means i didnt spend literally the entire day in bed. just most of it. yes, i am currently in bed.

so this fucked up sleeping pattern has a few causes which are: 1. i am me. if you havent noticed, this happens at least one a month. 2. i did accidentally go to bed at 8 am. 3. when i know i have literally nothing to do in a day i try to sleep through it, because for some reason being up all night doing nothing feels less depressing than being up all day doing nothing, which really isnt true to begin with, but also kind of perpetuates the doing nothing because im like ‘is 4 am, i cant do laundry’ or ‘4 am is no time to start a painting’ so i just eat and watch tv until its 8 am again. 4. i think im subconsciously willing myself into hypomania.

being stable is so. fucking. weird. and hard. and boring. SO BORING. like i just cant handle it to a certain degree. my world feels like it shrank in dimensions and like, for the most part YAY but also like, the fuck? what do you people do here all the time? i feel moderately pleased or moderately unhappy and i truck along in a very one note life and i am both pleased about this, because i havent wanted to die in awhile and this is a pleasant thing, but also displeased because i feel like i cut off my right arm, or something. like this is a tiny fraction of life ive decided to live in and its just.. mundane. i realize this is literally how most people live and the extent of their emotional experience and thats good and great and you know, im not saying i want to be at either extreme, or whatever, but it makes me uncomfortable to not being moving from center. CENTER IS SO BORING. AND FAKE. AND JUST… CUT OFF FROM ACTUAL EXISTENCE.

i know. that paragraph made no sense. but i feel it. i feel it so entirely. i feel like half of myself is missing, and for the first time ever ive begun to understand why people go cold turkey off their meds.

to be honest, ive always thought it was because those people were sick in the delusional way where they thought they were better and thus didnt need them. which is moronic, because they are making you better, you numbskull. but its not that. meds: you get full credit. and then theres all those people talking about meds like greying them out or zombifying them, and i also thought of that like the side effects that i had on abilify. or like, being foggy brained or drooling in a chair or something.

i am none of those things.

i just. i feel completely myself, but also like if myself were a line, i cut myself into thirds and only kept the middle chunk and now im just wondering around as a third of a person.

i dont particularly MISS being actively bipolar (as i would describe myself as being passively bipolar now. i dont if other people think about it that way?) but like… it still feels like part of me? like i got rid of part of myself? and i know that those are like, not the best parts, because they make me want to die, or other bad things, but theyve always been there? they make me feel…whole?

people always talk about missing mania. maybe i miss hypomania (no one misses actual mania. no one.). i mean, i do miss hypomania because it is literally the best. but like, seperate from my actual mood (if you can think like that when talking about a mood disorder), its like my whole life has been built around going up and down, and learning how to function with and around that. which was challenging, but its my life. i dont really think about it as a…. coping mechanism, i guess. i have always worked in batches: crazy hard for three months, down for few months. it balances out to at least an average person workload, but like, honestly an above average workload because i have perfectionist issues. but like, thats how i work. thats how ive always worked. and now im just….waiting to go back up, and be super productive and get into my working groove for a few months. which i know will end in hell, but its a predictable form of unpredictable hell. and for a few months, before the hell, i feel like i am the best version of me, in my still super fucked up perfectionist full throttle personality thought patterns.

the meds. the meds have stripped that out of my life. theres no super productive (or super non productive) phase now.

and thats… probably good? i mean, i guess? from like a functional life of an average person perspective? but i… i dont know how to function like this? with a mediocre level of energy and motivation? how does anyone get anything done? and more to the point, do people who live in this tiny 1/3rd of life like.. do they think this is it? this is all their emotions? like… this is not very happy, the happiest i feel now. on the scale of feelings i know to be happy. the problem is like 50% of the things i know to be happy i also know to be bad. or like, leading to bad.  but i also just feel so alarmed for people who think this is all life’s feelings have to offer? on the one hand like, hallelujah if this mediocre level of sad is the saddest you ever feel, even if to you this mediocre level of sad is like THE SADDEST SAD THAT EVER SADDED because like, your emotional dimensions end here. and in that way, i guess, that point is kind of moot because if thats the saddest youre capable of feeling, relatively speaking, it probably seems equally as shitty. but like. THE HAPPY.  you are missing 33% of the bad stuff but also 33% of the mostly good stuff. though even though im talking about this all like mood is linear, it, at its most simplistic, is AT BEST a circle (we all know its actually a sphere) because the shit 33% and the good 33% that i no longer experience are very much connected. but basically, i am just ASTOUNDED that this could be someones entire emotional experience.

and also extremely FRIGHTENED THAT IT MAY NOW ALSO BE MINE. FOREVER.

that is so disturbing. so disturbing. do not want.

also do not want hellish suicidal tendencies back, though, so. like. i guess these are my options now? 1/3rd of life or all of life where i spend at least 1/3rd of the time trying not to jump off a bridge plus sometime where colors are REALLY BRIGHT and thoughts move TOO FAST TO CATCH THEM.

im finding it extremely problematic that i am gravitating more and more toward the second option the longer i am without it. because when i was in it, i would have literally died for this feeling. but i feel so lost. and deadened. PART OF ME HAS GONE SOMEWHERE. and it makes me a more functional human, but also less of myself. which is supposed to be a good thing, medically.

thats a little weird. being less of myself is perceived as a good thing.

i dont know. i have lots of thoughts on this but i just want to FEEL. SOMETHING. like really feel it. feel it in my bones. not this passing, forgettable “feeling”.

life stuff.

ugh.

the new years party was good. my dress fit, thank god, i drank the right amount of gin (was drunk, but not black out drunk). jon and dima came so i spent most of the night with them as it was one of their last days here. went out with jon one more time before he left. god my life was so much better when he lived here.

tomorrow there is a surprise party for sam’s birthday, which should be good. though most of her good friends are now people i dont know well (im the only one from my circle that has met them, except jenn, and no one but me and sam likes jenn…) and im not sure if theyd get along with sam and my mutual friends so its going to be weird to see them all jumbled together.

over christmas my sister and i watched gilmore girls: a year in the life. i had been saving this originally to watch with sam, because my sister doesnt live here and i didnt think id be able to hold out this long, but plans with sam never worked out, and honestly its probably better this way.

my sister and i used to rent box sets of the gilmore girls seasons at blockbuster, back when that was a thing, and binge watch them together. we were the trendsetters of the binge watching netflix generation, obvs. so it was kind of full circle to watch the reboot together.

i have to say, i was not happy with how it ended. those famous last words the original creators had for the series, that they finally got to use in this reboot (as they didnt write the final season of the show), were not ideal, to me.  but i still really enjoyed the show. it was like visiting old friends, once you got into it. i would watch gilmore girls forever, if it were still on (similar to the west wing. and how i will always listen to hanson.)

also i watched the end of please like me before christmas. it was episode six so i thought i was midseason. BUT NO. IT WAS THE LAST EPISODE. which would be distressing on its own because please like me is so great. but it is extra distressing because they might not make a season five! and i am not ok with it! i like it to the point i actually follow all the actors on twitter and read interviews with josh thomas for fun (in fairness, he is a comedian). i dont even do that for gilmore girls, the west wing OR hanson. my little tv heart is breaking.

in sum: i desperately want to be hypomanic, jon left and my life got worse, the gilmore girls reboot is worth watching, and you should absolutely watch the little known australian tv show called please like me (i guess im supposed to mention that its “gay”, because people like representation, and all, but i never really think about the gayness. its just really good). also i will be drunk tomorrow so that may or may not result in another rambling poorly planned out blog post.

the end.