Self-medicating.

After just over a week of late nights, a (rather fun!) four day bender, averaging 2-5 hours sleep a night and getting barred from one of my locals I can safely say I’m finally having that come down.

A manipulated come down that is.

Deprived of sleep and desperate for my body to get some rest I ended up dosing myself up with co-codamol, promethazine tablets and herbal sleeping tablets. The past two nights I’ve been getting about 7 hours straight a night, struggled to come around in the mornings and then crawled back in to bed for a two hour nap in the afternoon. My mood has dropped from a happy-go-lucky 7 right down to a mopey 4. But at least I finally got some sleep.

Now I’m in one of those can’t be arsed moods, all I want to do is sleep and the urge to want to hide away from the world is creeping back. This is not where I want to be. But my mind was in over drive and my body was exhausted.

This isn’t the first time I’ve used medication in an attempt to control my life. In fact, I’m no stranger to the odd accident and the near-hospital misses. I’ve taken the wrong pills in a confused state, I’ve abused almost every prescription pill I’ve ever had my hands on. The belief that I hold in which I see myself as being in control of my situation – “I’m just too tired, just a few caffeine pills will perk me up”, “I’m desperate for some sleep, pass me the sleeping tablets”, and the one which started this whole mess off in the fist place…

“These self-harm urges are to intense tonight, maybe these painkillers will numb the urges for a while.”

Soon, the nightly dose of a few paracetamol tablets turn in to me lying to my mother and taking her prescription for a pack of 100 co-codamol to take home and abuse to my own accord.

This is not control. It certainly won’t be control when I take a few too many again.

I know what I am doing is wrong, but I feel like I need to self-medicate my nights away. I want to escape from the world a little bit, the feeling of warmth and relaxation that keeps me safe from the aggressive anxiety that has been creeping up on me every night is just what I need right now. I know I can’t carry on like this; I have had quite the repetitive history of addiction in the past and this needs to stop before it turns in to exactly that. But for now, this is my saviour. Having a break from the anxiety, if only for a few days helps with everyday life. But with the pills (especially the Promethazine), all come a cost. I am SO tired and with the tiredness, my mood is slowly sinking. With tiredness comes the temptation to dig out the caffeine pills again, just so I can function during the day. It’s just a vicious continuum of the mess I can’t break myself out from. I can feel the Black Dog breaking down the door of the kennel I’ve managed to tame her in and she’s growling. Woof, Woof. I need to settle her back down before she takes over again.

This year has felt like a constant battle between the Dog – a constantly tired depressive, with shattered self-esteem who lives in a dreary black and white world and wants to lock herself up when she looks in to the future. And the Wolf – the sexual predator who sees her life as a game, other people as toys and laughs in the face of fear as she walks in a path of her own self-destruction. At the moment, I don’t know where I’d rather be. I want to help myself, find that balance again and be the best person I can possibly be. Keep myself at a safe distance from my own demons.

I’m just not sure how to get there. This year, I got diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder. I’m still in denial to myself, telling myself that everything is fine, when in reality I know that these behaviours aren’t healthy. I’ve been here time and time again, and it feels almost expectant of me to act out and behave the way I do. The only thing which is slowly convincing me that something might be biologically abnormal here is my energy levels. How can one person go from having an unlimited drive and close her eyes for three hours without managing to switch off, to sleeping as much as I can and still feel unsatisfied after napping half the day away? I know I go through bouts on insomnia, and they are often matched by periods of sleepless nights. The more I sleep, the more I sink. The less I sleep, the higher I get. Being overtired is dangerous for me at each end of the spectrum.

No wonder I’m attempting to find that balance through desperate measures. At least the binge-drinking has stopped for now. I know that the pills have replaced it though. It’s clear to me that as long as I have some kind of self-destructive behaviour –  some kind of safety net, a little bit of comfort – I can function up to a point. It makes me wonder what really happened to make myself want to punish myself in the first place. We will save that for another post, another time.

Sometimes I think it might be safer and more easier for me if I just resorted back to making myself bleed.

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