Some weeks ago I sat outside with a friend. We talked about illnesses and mine in particular. I had just been told that I should count on taking meds the rest of my life (people kept asking for how long I would be on meds and I didn’t know so I asked). I had been and am still surprised. My friend wasn’t. Her face went also sour when I say something in the lines of ‘I’m not that ill’. She is a really good friend of mine and do tell me off when I need it. I had to look away. “You really don’t think so?!” Well maybe, I don’t know.. I just thought that the average other had it worse.
It is really hard for me to judge the seriousness of my own situation and of others. My head strives after a pattern that can make it make sense to me. Maybe even an other system than the one I have. The one a navigate from now says if people are hurting, it is bad and if people are not hurting, it is good. My understanding of mental illness is like a child’s.
Over and out.
It is about surveillance. I’m under observation, they are listening to my conversations whenever I leave the house.
It seems worse on written. I’m sure most people have felt this way at some point.
And I mean, the time when I was paranoid, I believed that some government entity wanted to kill me. This time is nothing. I’m not sure if it is anything at all. I just needed to share.
Over and out
I slowly opened my eyes from my second nap this afternoon. The world was still there. Dammit.
It has been a lazy Sunday. I have taken 1-2 hours naps and there has been nothing else I wanted to do today. I wanted to sleep and sleep the world far away. Also I have cried.
Sleep is a common topic when you are depressed or bipolar, right? Either you sleep to much or too little or you are depended on a strict sleep routine. Sleep matters. I sleep when I am down. I sleep because I am tired, but I also sleep to make the world go away.
I feel better, I think, as the months from my last depression goes by, but I still hit these holes of darkness. Deep holes. This time I think it was provoked by starting a temp job last week. Or drinking beers with friends last night. What ever I did, it was dump.
I am getting tired again. Apparently that is still possible. I will go to bed soon to celebrate that I have been outside the door today – twice.
Over and out.
Last night we had a meeting in the support group. I wasn’t there. Again. It is not the group’s fault. They are nice and supportive people. I think it might be the format i don’t appreciate: A group of people sits and waits for me to talk about myself. It seems so much more natural to me to shut up (and hide).
Lately I have been to two social gatherings – read: dinners – and one was awful. I couldn’t take any more after two hours but stayed and had problems leaving the house for two days after that (thank God I am not working at the moment). The second went alright. It was closer friends and not a bunch of new people. And I was on Benzos. (PN-meds)
There seems to be a pattern and I want to deal actively with it but I can’t get my head around how. A behavioural remedy. Social gatherings that demands much of me like dinners or parties with new people frighten me even though I most days think I am just fine. That is the conclusion here.
Over and out.
Last time I went to the career coach I had to fill out a branding map of myself, my personality and values. I learned that that is pretty hard. It is even harder because it didn’t match what I did fill out some years back. And I realise that it might have changed over those years because life changes you, but still.
Last time I did this personal branding/personality test, I was very ‘sociable and pragmatic’, ‘analytical’ and ‘open for change’ for being an introvert. Today I am ‘analytical’ and ‘structured’. Not so open for change anymore (I had a minor break-down at a party last weekend – how is that for flexible and open for change..) I have learned to be structured instead because it suits my mind better.
I want write it of as growing up but I am not sure. I truly hope I am the only one who feels like my personality has changed a little during the disorder?
Over and out.
Here we go again. One paper took up the discussion of SSRI medicine from the perspective ‘but does it really work?’ and with the conclusion ‘it really doesn’t’. Talk about being biased.
I’m trying to find my place in the debate but I might as well be staying in the bottom of a valley shouting to make the clouds stop moving. It is a debate with its own life and what is worse is that I am not proud of the knowledge I can add and how I got there.
I want to say that SSRI worked for me, but then I would have to say that they only did for a time because I am bipolar and become hypomanic. My argument would be:
1) I have had a depression, and
2) I felt it got better – for a little while.
That doesn’t seem too solid. I don’t think I am brave enough to make a patos argument out in the big national media debate. Even if I wish someone would. Better now than next year.
‘What would you like to do if you could pick?’ the career coach asked me. I might have looked pretty astonished. Could I pick?
I have been assigned a career coach by my job centre because I have been some months unemployed. It is a precaution for people who have had stress or are sensitive to it. People like me, I think. Anyhow, this man seems nice so far even though I was quite surprised by his question. The last two years I have, in my depressions, given up every single one of my former career plans. Now I would like to work in a company, which matches my values. That is all.
And then he asked me what I want to do. I answered him what I would have answered years prior. I told him that I would like to work overseas on development projects or something similar. I told him so even though it is a challenge for me to go on a skiing holiday with my friends or go to a party on a Saturday night. I get worried and nervous and I don’t want to go. Despite this I told him my old dream of working overseas. Why on earth would I say that?