Yep it’s back the overwhelming feeling of anxiety and a low that feels impossible. There is so much going on around me with everyone who knows and helps with my illness I haven’t said anything. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m starting to get bad again. I don’t know if it’s because of the job change though I think that might have something to do with it. I knew at my old job I could be honest about my feelings and I can’t here this isn’t the type of place where you openly share this information. I made the decision not to disclose my illness and I still stand with that decision. I try to explain it to my husband but how do you put it into words even if I start there aren’t words it’s like my brain just stops working. I get up some mornings not knowing what to expect and I thought with all the medicine that I would have the ability to control the moods and know who I am in the morning but that isn’t always the case. I know that it takes more than medicine for it to work but I openly refuse therapy. Therapy has do nothing over time but cause me more issues maybe it is because I can’t handle the issues and my coping mechanisms suck. I don’t know what to do I’m just so frustrated right now. This was really for me just to vent because I don’t know what else to do. My brain isn’t firing on all cylinders right now. Does anyone else have this problem or understand?
TW: Suicide discussed (also I am not currently suicidal it is something that I have written just to get it off my chest.)
I feel like starting these letter with to whom it may concern to be to impersonal also because it concerns a lot of people. I know why you are reading this and just know it meant I was ready to go and I think the Lord was ready for me as well. I do believe that regardless of how I go that I will still go to heaven and I made peace with everything before I went but I know that isn’t how you feel. I know some of you are going to be angry, confused, upset and ask yourself why you didn’t see it coming; where were the signs? I don’t have the answer to that questions because they weren’t really there. It started off at ideation and grew quickly from there. There are letters addressed to my daughter, my husbands, my two best friends but for the rest of you this is the letter. I’m not even going to try that bs don’t be sad or anything else because however you feel the need to cope with it is how you will cope with it. I just ask when you do yell at me to refrain from using GD. I despise that word. This letter is just a blanket statement that I feel I am required to give so they know how to correctly identify it on my death certificate. I feel like the whole I’m sorry and extra bs in these letters is useless unless you were close to me.
I had my 6 month check up with my psychiatrist today and we were speaking openly about suicide after admitting that I was having suicidal thoughts. We were also discussing the differences in being suicidal and having suicidal thoughts (that is a different post.) He said that 19% of people diagnosed with bipolar disorder take their own life and that equals like 1 in 5. Those odds are shocking for some reason. If you think about the big picture 2.3 million Americans are diagnosed with bipolar disorder. If I did my math right that equals out to 437,000 people. That means there are 437,000 people contemplating suicide most with no support from anyone.I am one of the biggest supporters for the AFSP but how do we fix this? What can we as the mental health community do to combat these odds? There are so many people who can’t afford medicine, therapy let alone see a psychiatrist to properly diagnose and help them. This is something we need to recognize and help each other. We aren’t going to receive any help from the government and there is so much of a stigma attached to us people refuse to publicly support it unless it is a celebrity who claimed to “recover” from it. We need to speak openly and honestly about our struggles. I think we can be the change if we become more comfortable being open and knowing even though they might not understand we can make them care. 1 person loss to suicide is 1 too many. Let’s start the conversation and help decrease these numbers.
I’ve actively avoided him for as long as possible but they won’t refill my meds until I see him. This whole process is a chore in itself, getting the day off work, making sure my husband can pick up our daughter driving the 45+ minutes to get here and I dread it. This time I had to pay for a past balance before they would schedule the appointment only to walk in and here you still owe a balance. I lost my cool a little and feel bad for the girl behind the desk. I had paid the balance so they would give me a 30 day supply of medication. I had a balance because my amazing psychiatrist was out due to personal reasons and also COVID was on its first phase of shut downs so I had to talk to this asshole via zoom which sucked. He didn’t listen to a word I said he just kept pushing my meds and new meds because I needed a change. The feed kept freezing and he wouldn’t shut up long enough for me to talk every time he asked me a question it was like “How are you feeling?” “I am feeling….” “You need something besides Lamictal…” How in the world would you know that after you barely asked me a question and didn’t let me respond. I called back and told them that I would rather go without meds than talk to that jackass ever again. I think we were prepared for the conversation though. I don’t know if they heard me fuss at him or he complained about me but alas it is that time again. I am glad I was given the option to go in the office. I know that with just a few hiccups I’ve been okay but it is always an uneasy feeling… Here goes nothing
As I sit here writing this my car is currently on jacks the hood, trunk, and drivers side door wide open my gas tank on the shop floor if only it were my fuel pump but it isn’t and as I watch them my heart is breaking.
It isn’t just a car to me. I can tell you where every ding, scratch, and the stain is from, my salt life sticker I picked out when we were in Pensacola after a trip to Orange Beach Alabama even though we don’t live anywhere near a beach. My initials crooked on the back glass, my beads are from the AFSP walk along with a discolored brown and pink polka dot ribbon I bought for my daughter but that it looked better on my mirror. I remember driving my husband’s old beat up green S-10 with no insulation and holes in the floor board. The seat was nothing more than pieces of wood and I had to sit all the way forward just to drive it. The gas hand didn’t work so you had to guess when it needed gas and a “security” switch (it had to be hard wired because of a problem with the ignition switch.) but it got me to work and home amazingly with minimal problems. I’ll never forget the day I went to the car dealership and drove my car for the first time. I fell in love and I had to have it.
I remember going to Jacksonville Florida just a week after we bought it. I had Sirius radio for free and drove all night drinking red bull and berry smoothies from McDonald’s we fell asleep in the beach and got so sunburned. This car drove all the way to Naples, Florida and back which is a 9 hour drive. We took it on all the family vacations but it was there for me. It was there for me when I needed to scream at the steering wheel when I had a bad day, it took me to the drs appointment and later to and from the psych hospital. I drove it when I was high, manic and severely depressed. It took me to my spot on the lake where I sat on the same concrete making my suicide videos. It survived all the times I drove high especially the few times I ran off the road, all the times I almost rear ended someone trying to find the perfect song on my phone. It survived every move, angry fight when I sped off or took my computer hid in my car crying.
Godspeed Jolene you were an emotional attachment I wasn’t ready to let you go yet especially with the new job but know that you will always have a place in my heart. I have emotional attachment issues so this one hit me hard.
Somewhere between 2Pac and Valerie Carter, drenched in sweat at a 7.5 incline with 2.8 speed my brain and I had a come to Jesus meeting. I’ve struggled the last couple of weeks last week being the worst with my depression. I’ve also hid it the best that I could and if you’ve dealt with mental health issues for as long as I have you know how to turn your illness into a “migraine” “stomach virus” or any other physical illness because saying, “I’m depressed.” Comes with so many questions you just don’t want to answer because for some reason you just can’t be depressed without a reason. I never understood why that is I think it’s just a stigma people don’t realize. (That’s another topic.)
I said things to myself that if anyone who didn’t struggle with this said to me it would piss me off. “You’ve dealt with worse. You’ve got to suck it up we’ve done so well with avoiding melt downs. I know right now working out feels like torture but you have to just sitting around the house makes it worse. Last week sucked but this week we are going to do better. We are going to shower more than once, brush our hair and teeth every day. Get out of bed on time put on makeup because we always feel better when we do. I know you hate it but you might have to force that smile. You around people who aren’t use to you and don’t know what you are going through maybe if they did they would treat you better but I doubt it. You are a badass who went through a complete breakdown, overdose got kicked out of the house, detoxed and never missed a day of work even if you were late. I know you can do it you just have to focus. It’s hard to focus but I need you to try. You have stereotyped yourself so much you want to punch yourself in the face but I know what you are capable of and I know what you’ve been through this isn’t something you need to worry anyone else with because you can do this. I love your crazy ass and the fact that I can say that now is a huge improvement. Just fight it okay.” That sums up the conversation I had with myself. I left out some of the swears and other personal details but I have learned to love myself some and I think that makes times like these easier.
Who isn’t scared of the Coronavirus because you survived so many overdoses and with all the medication you’ve taken, stuff you snorted, manic episodes and all the other reckless ways you’ve lived your life that you should suffer some permanent damage but Gods got a good sense of humor spared you and survived you have this fuck it attitude. If I can take so many benzodiazepines I should’ve died at least 15 times if not more survived withdrawals while working, managed manic episodes without being hospitalized and managed to keep a sliver of sanity. So I’m not worried about the Coronavirus. If I’ve survived life this far a virus isn’t going to scare me.
For everyone who is suffering from or died because of the virus my heart goes out to you.
What dumbass thinks going back to an environment that was toxic and caused unbearable stress is a good idea because you miss it and you can’t just be normal because you aren’t normal and you are having mental health issues without it but will probably have more with it but it was the only thing you had to cling onto when it got bad even though it just made everything worse and enabled bad habits but again you are a dumbass who doesn’t think decisions through and that’s why you have 7 tattoos some of which you regret because you were manic and thought it was a good idea but now can’t wear regular clothes because of them. It’s me…..I am that dumbass…..
I broke in my new coworkers in the other day. I had an anxiety attack at work and it was so embarrassing and awkward. I didn’t sleep good last night because of storms and I got paranoid about pine trees and tried to move my husbands truck and got it stuck in the mud so then I was so paranoid he would be mad I couldn’t sleep. So my anxiety was already up and then I made a mistake and I freaked out thinking I would get fired and I ended up holding on to a wall for dear life hyperventilating and crying. They don’t know about my anxiety so they were completely lost on what was going on or what to do. They know I have anxiety issues now. Surprise I come with quirks you find out about later. We figured it out and they didn’t care too much about it. I think they were worried I would freak out again. I don’t think people realize how fucking embarrassing it is to have an anxiety/panic attack in front of strangers in public.