I am more than knee deep in shit

So things at work are not going well to say the least! I had a project deadline of end August and I’m still busy with the project, nevermind starting the documentation necessary for close out (usually about a hundred pages) And I cannot go on because there are protests going on in my country so half of the people I need cannot be reached! This project has been going on for 2 years now and whenever I want to present my findings, it gets torn to pieces and I have to start over again! I am so over this, I just want it to be done but there is nothing I can do because no one can help me and I have run out of ideas. I don’t even know how to pray anymore :(.

My bipolar is trying to create a bigger problem so that I don’t have to face this one or maybe try and land me in hospital so that I have a legit excuse for not getting anywhere but I see the sneakyness and I’m trying to not go that route. Really trying… I also usually give up at this stage of the game but I’m not willing to do that either. I’ve considered cutting to get rid of the frustration but after years of cutting, the idea of taking a blade to my body has become foreign and dare I say too scary? Suicide also does not inspire me although it sounds attractive at this stage I just don’t have the guts to do it. So here I sit. In shit street. Nowhere to turn to. HELP

 

A rant about crippling pain

So I saw my psychologist two days back, we tried to get to the source of my pain, it was taxing and tough and I cried a lot. After an hour we ended up with me as a kid lying on my bed in the fetal position sobbing away. When I got home this is what I wrote in my journal:

 …All that I saw was my young self lying on my bed crying furiously at the injustice and the pain that won’t go away. The pain that made me wish myself dead…  The injustice in the world that I hated as a child, now being made a victim of. The intense anger at being held against my will in this victim role, not being able to rise above it all. To be untouchable. To be the strong woman who lifts others or of the mud, now myself in the thick of it and unable to escape it. Being proven only human. Not the super human I knew I was destined to be. Falling prey to human emotions. The anger, still raw and untainted by the ground which it has been buried deep under. If I had someone then to talk to me, to curb the hopelessness which spread like mould over the damp absorbing walls of my mind, turning me into a sort of super human, but not the good kind. The kind that will always want to return to its own waste. With all my creative power I’m recreating the death of my innocence and failing to resurrect it again. So I wade through the waters as the tide rises. Hoping that this time it would swallow me whole, spit out my bones for my parents to mourn over.

 

Calling the bluff, maybe

I’ve been walking the tightrope of stability now for 7 months. I get depressed but then it only lasts for a week or so, not long enough to make me take action… Suicidal for 4 days, gets better just before I phone the doc… Mixed state for weeks but I’m coping so let’s not do anything about it… This is the story of my life now for more than half a year. I’m stable but rarely at peace. Isn’t peace what us bipolars are looking for? There is the akathisia making me restless and irritated, so it is hard to distinguish between mixed/hypo and just the Abilify having its way.

Then there are the triggers making this whole story even more confusing. So being away from home could be the reason behind the first mixed state, The first contraceptive could explain the depression of Jan to April. The rather stable month of May may be due to the progress with my degree. The mixed depro space named June 2016 could possibly be contraceptive nr. 2. Hmmm which brings us to the past 2 weeks. Nothing to explain the fukd-upness I’m feeling right now.

So when do you stop blaming triggers and side-effects? When do you say “my meds aren’t working for me anymore” Thing is changing your meds feels a lot like changing a dirty  beshitted nappy. except you have the added joy of having to go to hospital and you have no guarantee that changing the nappy will clear the nasty rash you’ve developed. In fact it may just make everything worse. destabilize you completely…

The few days of normality I have in between the dodgy ones try to convince me that I’m  doing well, all things considered… But is there better or should I just be thankful that between the sweeping mood dysregulation, the fiery irritability, the cringe-worthy suicidal thoughts and my personal anti-favorite: the oxygen depriving feeling of being overwhelmed, I am actually okay. No blood has flowed, no plans have been made and most of all I’m still taking my meds (let’s not mention the binge drinking, oh shit I just mentioned it!)

So friends do I check my nappy or glide on along this tumultuous edge of the sidewalk?