Living with bipolar disorder can be fun at times, hypermania so often bringing with a flood of endorphin’s and inspiration to be great and to do great things. However the lows can be totally debilitating and take over the overwhelming roller coaster that is your life. The past two weeks have been extremely tough for me in regards to my bipolar depression, and it is really the first time that I have properly crashed (to the extent to which I am worrying myself at least) while I have been a functioning adult, with my own responsibilities.
This past fortnight has destroyed me and all I have wanted to do is fall back into old habits, and not move from my bedroom while sitting on the wrong side of a lighter or razor blade. But I don’t live at home now, I’m not at uni. I can’t afford to stay at home, just because my world is falling apart doesn’t mean it stops turning for the rest of the world! I rent a two bedroom house with a garden and have two pets to look after and a full time job to manage – I don’t have the luxury of just being able to stay at home when I feel a bit dodgy.
And so, I have had to drag myself to work and sit at my desk, the majority of the time while trying to ignore the tears streaming down my cheeks, and get on with everything because life will never just stop. Of course there have been tears, and stress and even a panic attack (my poor manager…never seen a grown man look so uncomfortable in my life – I am so sorry!), but I am surprising even myself by pulling myself through it.
It may look like I am not coping to any outsiders looking in, and to a certain extent no I am not. However, only I know how fragile and broken I was just two or three years ago, and there is no way that I would be able to cope with moods like this, be living on my own – and more importantly to trust myself to live alone without doing anything stupid, without anyone to (for lack of a better term) “babysit” me.
When my mood plummets like this I can appear to be a totally different person – I become even quieter and only speak when spoken to (yes I can speak even less than I do now, I swear its possible!), I forget to eat, lose pleasure in doing things I’ve always loved, nothing tastes right and most annoyingly my concentration becomes non-existent. If there is something on my mind then I will sit and think about it endlessly until I have reimagined every possible alternative outcome to that situation, if there is nothing in particular bothering me that day, then my head will help me to create a problem – probably fantasising about a bomb scare, or a kidnapping similar to my past happening again – neither of which are exactly likely on a Tuesday afternoon in North Lancashire.
But that is what bipolar depression does, it takes who you are and slowly compacts you into a small shadow of your former self. You become paranoid and snappy and often end up taking it out on the people who try to help you most. Life just becomes very difficult. As I said, I feel like I am doing well, and I am proud of how far I have come over the past few years. No, I am not exactly coping right now as it feels like I am trying to sew sand together to be perfectly honest. But, I am coping well enough for me, and I am doing my best to stay afloat, and that’s good enough. For now at least.
Goodnight my lovelies,