Rollercoaster.

“It seems to me like you have been on a bit of a rollercoaster the past year haven’t you, M?” – Social Worker

Sertraline has defined the term Rapid Cycling for me for sure.

We have finally decided my medication isn’t working out for me. I explained that as well as fighting off the anxiety, I have highs that last for a few days to a week where i’m skipping around like a loon, I ‘forget’ to eat, my sex drive is sky high and a bit out of control again and i’m getting next to no sleep whatsoever (1.5 hours Sunday night, followed by a 5am get up for work and not leaving work until 6pm… to get home and have 3 hours sleep the following night to get up at 5am for work… and still be full of energy!). This is followed by a major crash where I’m nodding off on my work desk/in the middle of conversations with people, napping during the day, wanting to isolate myself, moping about, sleeping through my alarm and seeing the world through that grey depressive filter. Rinse and Repeat the following week.

I’m tired. And I can’t keep going on like this forever. I think it’s time I quit pretending there isn’t anything wrong and have the ”Hmm, maybe you do need a bit of lithium in your diet’ talk with myself.

Honestly, I’m scared. I’m scared that mood stabilisers are going to kill me brighter bubbly me off. I’m worried that the intense joy I feel for life will be taken away from me. They are going to take my Wolf away and I need her. Here, you can take the depressive half of me, she sucks and all she wants to do is sleep anyway. Just let me keep my Wolf.

I took a visit to the hospital at the weekend for a follow up appointment, and she seemed a bit disappointed that i’m slipping a little bit. We talked about my most latest A and E visit. And that was the appointment where they decided to take proper action.

To conclude… she ended up referring me to anxiety management and a rehab centre to discuss weaning and additional help with the addiction. Both appointments are this week. It was so embarrassing making the phone and explaining to the woman on the other end of it that I had a problem.

It was particularly hard to force the words ‘addict’ out as I believe, partially, I am still in denial.

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Tired.

For the last few days I’ve noticed my energy levels plummeting somewhat, earlier nights accompanied by naps that I can’t just seem to wake up from. Extra coffee and even a little help from pro plus the other morning (hmmm…). I’ve also been feeling a little blue. Distracting myself in the most healthiest ways possible (exercise, funny books, seeing as many friends as I can manage), but blue nonetheless.

It’s no secret that I have been feeling horribly mixed since my last hospital incident, and for months now it seems I have been constantly rapid cycling on the Sertraline. Which means my ups, my downs and my downright tornados of emotional episodes have been very short lived, however powerful they have been.

So here’s to hoping the lethargy is a temporary blip, to do with my womanly cycle rather than my mental state (sorry, gents!). It would be very unfair to throw another depression in the mix when I’ve been doing so well. But hey, that’s part of being a Bipolar Bear.

Here comes the Boom.

Deep breath.

Yesterday, I had a subtle reminder of how my highs almost always turn bad. The feeling of ‘I f*****g love my life’ turned in to racing thoughts so complex I just didn’t know what the hell I wanted to do with myself.

I wanted to do everything but nothing at the same time = Extreme irritability. And so I slowly started to dissociate from the world around me.

My mind had completely shut down on me, when The Boy came home and took one look at me curled up on the living room floor and said ‘I think it’s time you had some sleep.’

So we decided that it was straight to bed for some induced sleep for me, and out came the Promethazine tablets for a double dose. Sometimes I forget just how valuable sleep is to the mind, and in the past few weeks mine was slowly going crazy from the lack of it. After half an hour of uncontrollable rocking back and fourth from how uncomfortable this bad energy was in my body, I finally rocked my mind to sleep.

Three hours later I was made to get up, head up the street to The Boy’s parents and eat dinner. Another downside of coming out of hypomania is realising that or the past few weeks I’ve hardly eaten ( – I’ve not needed to, when you have unlimited neurochemical energy then who needs food??), more of I’d forgotten to eat, my mind had clearly been too busy to even consider having three meals a day. I struggled bad, trying to communicate with everyone around me whilst I tried to ingest a Sunday dinner. I think I must have fallen asleep about three times, having a strong coffee certainly didn’t help either, it just morphed in my hands in to a big mug of comfort. Pure torture. I remember just before I left a comment was passed towards me from a family member that went along the lines of “Are you going to see your doctor this week?”

No, I just want to sleep.

Besides, they will put me on Lithium.

I got home, got on the couch and crashed. Woke up at 11pm, dazed around for an hour and then crashed again – until the 7am wake up call.

No matter how many times I will use my own methods to purposely get me down from my high, I am never prepared for what comes afterwards. The Black Dog hung over me again. I forget what it is like to crash hard after an episode of being up in the clouds. I can’t physical feel my heart beating anymore. Each colour – the world – doesn’t seem bright and full of life. My perspective on life is flipped on to it’s side – everything I previously thought I had control of just slips out of my fingers. Panic, anxiety. I can’t face the world, the future terrifies me. I can barely step outside, social interaction is too unbearable. I’m tired.

I need her back. My Wolf has gone and I need her here – she’s the strong one and I can’t do this without her. I feel like a part of me is missing when she’s ran off in to the night.

I’m not depressed – I’m mourning.

I hope this doesn’t last and this comedown is just a temporary result of my stupid self-medicating habits. However nice it was to get a bit of sleep, hands up right now I’d take that self-destructive side of me back, no matter if it risks her chipping in to my life and destroying it bit by bit. At least that side of me feels something.

Down in the dumps

Currently in bed, with a book in which I am relying on to lift me up after my mood significantly crashed to rock bottom this evening.

I feel like crap. Worst of all I was at the inlaws when it happened – I suddenly shot up, that bad anxious nervous energy rising in me. I got my coat on, mumbled something about getting fresh air and paced up and down the garden, pressured to vocalise my chatty mind that wasnt even able to produce any speech that made sense, it was all ‘se bah ven cah to’ blah blah bullshit again.

I should have predicted it from the outbursts of mixed up words that morning. “Kut the pettle on” – this has been a clear indicator the past few months that my mind just wasn’t functioning properly, I’m either stuttering or jumbling words up.

It got to 15 minutes of pacing and P came out and asked me to come inside as they were ‘asking questions.’ I couldn’t sit down, I was eating my tea at the table trying to tame the urge not to mumble or get out of my seat. So it was the irriatable foot shaking, humming and tapping again. I must have looked like a right loon.

45 minutes later my mood sank and now here I am, not wanting to shower, or sleep,  just lying here praying for a stable day tomorrow.

I really need to make that GP appointment again. I cancelled last week even though I was for a med review because I was feeling great, and was even in the ‘I’m going to tell my T i dont need him anymore now’ frame of mind. What an idiot. I do this all the time. I hate how my mood reflects my state of mind, always picking up the pieces from my contrasting decision making. Especially recently, my mood chart is such a mess right now. I’m up and down quicker in a matter of days.

I dont want to take my meds tonight 😦

Why isn’t my GP listening to me?

I’m so angry at my GP right now.

My current councellor has suggested I go to my GP for a bipolar assesment as my mood swings have been very extreme this year. This is the 5th person who has suggested bipolar to me in the past few years and I’ve only recently been taking this suggestion seriously. I went to my GP for depression a few months ago – I couldnt seem to get out of it after I
ruined my exams and my relationship went to pot during a suspected hypo episode
earlier in the year. He put me on citalopram (ive been on it 6 weeks now – a
lowered dose for the past two) which sent me on a total high – this ended up in
an overdose, multiple SH episodes, me not sleeping for a week, extreme paranoia and anxiety and hallucinations. Not to mention the
extreme irritability which resulted in me attempting to cut an itch out of my
arm. Citalopram made me want to die at one point.

My GP promised me it wouldnt set off a manic episode, as I informed him that I had a bad reaction to fluoxetine a few year back – another relationship breakdown after I was
physically violent towards him, a week of pure depression where my dad had to
book a week off work to look after me because I wanted to die – followed by 9
months of a high in which I started preaching to god, believed that God was
inside me, started my own business (which totally flopped), got in a load of
debt, quitting therapy, didnt sleep, was high on life and also resulted in me
becoming a mother. I was only on fluoxetine for 2 months.

I had a non -medicated high about a year or so before that where i ended up jetting off to
another country for 4 months, in which the high mood swings got so out of
control I used to have blackouts and wake up covered in cuts and bruises. I woke
up one morning in the bathroom in a pool of my own blood and I still to this day
cant remember how it happened – all I know is how estatic abou tlife I was about
12 hours before the incident. I came back to england 4 months later leaving my
friend paying for the house contract (it was for a year) and picking up the rest
of my pieces, all because there was a party in england I wanted to go to. Theres
much more to this, I had severe mood swings in school but I wont drag it on even
more.

Anyway – my GP has passed off the fact that the antidepressants are
making me want to die – told me im depressed, and prescribed me sertraline! Im
at my wits end going back and fourth trying to get someone to listen to me and I
dont know what else to do. I dont want to be here today. I feel like its going
to take a hospital admission to get people to take me seriously and im trying to
avoid that at all costs, my daughter needs me.

……I saw a different GP two weeks ago who listened to me (i mentioned the bipolar thing and he nodded in agreement and we had a chat about the medication, id only been on it for a few weeks) and he lowered my citalopram dose from 20mg to 10mg. Ive asked to see him everyday this week but hes been unavailable, so I went back to the initial GP as the hallucinations were making me desperate and miserable.

I do believe im on the up again, as i keep getting burts of hypersexual urges and other symptoms, and my mood scale is rising steadily but getting a bit messy… ive had to mark 7-8’s and 3’s on the same day because im confused about my symptoms at present – i do believe its the medication messing it up for me. Its like im cycling faster than usual and its confusing the hell out of me. Its all mixed up. I need this to be controlled and I need someone to listen to me NOW because im afraid if it gets worse im going to end up in hospital or dead. I do not believe im in the depression anymore (what i was put on citalopram for 6 weeks ago)- even though I have the fog and the anxiety and on and off bursts of tiredness, it seems like a total other realm that im in at the moment.