I get restless if I don’t do anything but I can work for hours without a break.
I’m impossible to stop when I start talking.
I keep buy random stuff that I NEED.
I’m clearly going manic. It is in the early earlier stages so no need to panic yet. Maybe a small change of medicine will help?
So they prescribed more abilify to me at the hospital. And now I feel nauseated during the day. Not so cool. Oxapax works better but really, I would kind of rather go without. I mean, I just hate that I love when I feel awesome.
I got the question I had hoped I could avoid at my interview yesterday: why have you been unemployed for so long?
The situation was this: I was on skype for an interview for a course in personal development and leadership for young women. I have had mixed thoughts about the course. On the one hand, I would love to learn more about leadership and be supported on my road from illness to self-esteem. One the other hand, I am worried that there will be too much ‘communication through song’ and similar activities. But finally I decided that I would like to go and I was invited for the interview. It went fine until the doomsday question. “Why have you been unemployed for so long?” The honesty reply is that I have been ill for a year and that the past six months I have struggle with the fact that it is difficult to get a job as a graduate. So that was what I said. Was it the right answer? I don’t know. Was it honest? That was exactly what it was. Now I’ll just wait for the result.
It is freezing outside and the leafs are playing around in the strong wind. I am sitting inside. It is chilly here too. In front of me are two girls. They are asking me questions. Questions about my illness. I don’t talk a lot about it these days since I am much better. But it is nice to talk about it. It is nice to explain to somebody who is not a psychologist or doctor. It is somehow nice to say I felt this and that, this time was a hard one, these were the breaking points where I changed from mania to depression, etc. They asked me about reactions to my illness. My relatives have been nice and supporting. I had never got through without them. Never. So I told them and that is the truth.
I hate it, but I have started using oxapax again. Everything was going so well for a period. Actually it is still going fine if I simply accept that I need some help from time to time.
These days I am applying for jobs. Maybe it is a bit too stressful, or maybe it is because I constantly need a project to keep me going. A little sewing, some knitting, a little academic writing, anything really. If not I get insanely bored and unfocused.
Benzos help, smoking helps. Both habits that I want to get rid of, but that is not so easy as I wish it would be.
Right now I am in a cafe trying to get myself together and focus on anything really. It has been possible so I believe I will get there again. I believe in optimism – for you and me. We will get there somehow.
Tonight I dreamt that I stole a pair of gloves. I woke up full of guilt. My first thought was “is it always going to be like this? That I overreact and overanalyse everything. Have I done that previously?” Second thought: “Do I have any oxapax left?”
The answer to the last question is not given since I finished at the hospital earlier this month. My own gp is not happy about handing them out to me.
But why so I still need it? My brains know but the rest of me do no accept this. We wanna be free and happy. That is all we have ever wanted.