Dimrill wrote:
I can imagine. One of my early warning signs of either up or down is increased irritability. Luckily both Helen and my Mam act as my intervention for when things get bad or too good and I can rely on them for that. Do you have CPN visiting?
Nah. TBH I absolutely hate going to the psychs as it is. When I have to go I will not sleep for about three days. Well, I will, but as a fellow Bipolar sufferer you should know what I mean when I say not sleep. What I mean, of course, is I sleep for about four hours but I feel like I haven't slept as my mind goes bezerk whilst I am asleep to the point that when I wake up it feels like I have had fuck all sleep. It's only really mania that keeps me from just collapsing. Kinda like a car running on fumes. I become hazy, sometimes I feel completely spaced out. I have never had the hallucinations etc but sometimes I completely forget where I am.
Last time (last week) by the time I got there I was a complete fucking wreck. I had bitten my fingernails until they bled and ended up with a whitlow in one of my fingers. I chewed my hands, fingertips the lot. My hands were red raw and sore as fuck. I told them then that basically I couldn't go that far any more (over an hour on the train) and that it was simply too traumatic and distressing. I think that was the first time they have actually seen me like, 'down' and tbh? they were scratching their heads. Every time I have been to the psychs (any of the many I have seen) I have been up. Joking, laughing, swearing and generally being pretty manic. I think that might be why they thought I had ADHD because they hadn't seen the depression. This time they got a large serving LOL.
I can't really talk to my family about it. I feel really guilty if I do because I just don't want to bum them out. Life has at times been shitty for every one of us (especially Mum and Brother, I mean shit they've had all the crap I have and then me to top it all off lol) so that's why I have my cat. She listens. She cares. She might not understand but that's fine with me.
I just feel sometimes that I am being poked and prodded and all that. Sometimes I don't give a fuck but at others I'm simply not up for it. My psych (the woman I go and see a lot) though is fucking awesome tbh.
When I got back from the hospital (last Friday arvo) I was in such a euphoric state that it was over and I didn't have to go out again for the foreseeable that I didn't sleep at all for two days
Also. Just been watching TV and pondering what's been said. I think the reason Bipolar people care too much is only partly because they have Bipolar. I think it's just a simple matter of learning from your experience. That's pretty deep tbh so I will do my best to explain it.
As a sufferer one minute you are really, really happy and love life so much that death is the most frightening word. I mean, even taking extasy in the 90s cannot compare to the highs I get as a Bipolar sufferer. Life is so fucking great that you simply never want to die, ever.
And then a week later? crying, misery. Unexplained feelings of doing something terribly wrong. How you're not good enough etc. And, I think when you snap out of that you truly realise what being sad is and plays a large part of the reason why you tend to care so much about others. I always thought that my intense empathy and caring toward others came from what I went through as a kid. Losing my dad when I was 7, losing my nana when I was 8... so many things, I mean, one time we went to my Aunts for christmas and when we came back the tanks in the loft burst and all the upstairs basically collapsed into the downstairs. We really did have a fucking shitty time of it. And I thought that was what made me so sensitive to other people's unhappiness. I suppose in a way it was, but I know that it's mostly down to the illness.
Problem for me is I have been attracted to miserable women my whole life, thinking I can make a difference and make them happy. And I have had to learn from my mistakes by basically being around shitty nasty people and getting badly burned by wearing my heart on my sleeve.
I remember once when I asked my mother why there was war and shit like that (I must have only been about seven) and hadnt slept for days because I had basically just been taught how many people die in a war. She looked at me and said "Son, you're too good for this world".
I have met a couple of Bipolar people in my life. The only time they would ever say that had it was after I said I had it. Funny that, I suppose I'm just not scared of narrow minded stupid people who don't understand what a mental illness is like they were. The funny part is that once you realise you have it you automatically know who else does. Kinda like if you were black and you were standing in a sea of a million white people and there was one other black person there you would instinctively know you were the same kind, the same type.
And Sinister? I know exactly what you mean. People who have never suffered a mental illness have no fucking idea what it entails. It ain't fun. They take for granted their ability to do things that come easy to them and fail to even comprehend that those things could be really hard for someone else. As Dim said ages ago in this thread, if you've never suffered with a mental illness then tbh? you've got fuck all chance of ever understanding one. That level of understanding only comes when you have been there or are there constantly. Kinda makes you appreciate everything that bit more.