Right now... I kind of feel... I dunno. Like I owe my readers something.. to be honest, I'm sure I don't. I only have 2 followers, one who knows what's going on, the other, not so. But I don't know that she even reads me religiously. Not that my blog is consistent enough for that...
So.. where to begin? A few months ago, I shared a post. It was my story. One reason out of many for why my head is so ridiculously FUCKED right now... My up bringing is another reason, but I don't feel like going there this moment...
Maybe I should dabble there..
My mother is bipolar. Now, some of you may be aware of how it kind of works.. some of you might even be bipolar yourself. First thing is first... No two people are the same. There are general symptoms of bipolar disorder. Also know, if a doctor has not diagnosed you, you might not be. You might have something else going on, so while it is good that your aware something is wrong, GO SEE A DOCTOR. Beyond that... As I said, no two people are the same. Some are the manic kind. The kind that don't sleep, the kind that almost remind you of a crack addict, they are generally on the happy side when manic. Generally. There is the depressed side. The I-don't-wanna-get-out-of-bed side, the tearful and sad side. The despair. The feeling of being utterly alone and like no one understands. And there is the in between...
When I say no two people are the same, I mean that. I started showing signs of being bipolar, I don't know when, but I did. Everything inside me is so out of whack, I couldn't begin to tell you what has happened. I took a stupid online test and found myself testing about as bipolar as they come. Hello, you have my attention. I found myself sleeping maybe 2 hours a night in November, regardless of everything I tried to do. I just didn't sleep. Weeks. Like that. Angry. Depressed but wide awake, screaming, fighting. Pushing fights. My poor fiance truly did have a lot to put up with. I did try reaching out. I swear I did. At some point, in December, I felt so dead inside I wanted to die. So I said something. I reached out, I asked for help, I called a hospital, I called and tried to get myself help and wasn't called back. I reached out to friends, and some to this day simply do not get it. Their words scream their lack of understanding.
In my life, very close to me are 3 bipolar people. Each different, as different as can be. And I was compared to another bipolar person and told there is no way I am. One has a tendency to be manic, my mom was always depressed and the other fluctuates so much it could make ur head spin. My mother has only had 2 full on manic episodes in her 25+ years being bipolar. I have seen her manic, but she's what they call hypo manic. Kind of a toned down version. They aren't so cracked out. My mom thinks I'm like that, and I am in agreeance that my mania is moderately manageable.
Well, on December 30th 2011, I took an entire bottle of pills and I tried to kill myself. I. Was. Done. Tired of hurting, of asking for help and not getting it. I thought about it for weeks. Realizing that yes, a few people cared, but couldn't fix me and others cared but didn't have the time to try and help. I have worked so hard to over come everything I was brought up with. I got tired of fighting. I got tired of fighting for the will to live.
Sometimes people can try to help but don't know how to proceed in doing so. Sometimes, they try and become overwhelmed by their feelings. Sometimes they are pushed to breaking points. Often times he was pushed by me for no reason other then my desire to drive him away. I don't think it was different then me telling another person I wanted them to stop caring so I could die in peace. I just didn't know how to push her like that right then... I was also totally trashed, drunk to puking and the leave-me-the-hell-alone-so-I-can-die kind of drunk, except it wasn't just the alcohol making me projectile vomit, I actually said it and meant it. She asked me later if I remembered what I said, and being as I was drunk and know I babbled a lot, I said no. Not sure what of my many things were said. She picked that, I claimed to not remember or very vaguely. It made it easier to keep her off my back as I decided how I would do it, when, and get all my stuff packed n ready for easy transport to be gotten rid of and thrown away or donated.
I kept telling my fiance how I felt and he kept telling me to get help. He didn't know how to get it for me and I didn't know how to make it go faster. He tried but I know my uncontrollable state of mind has taken a toll on him, but he loves me regardless. As he's kept telling ke he was going to get his court stuff handled, he started becoming worried about being gone. About my mental state. Rightfully so. I think he is the only person in my life who had seen inside my head and knew what was there.
On the 30th, I broke. Snapped. Got upset and decided I didn't care ne more.
And I barely remember that weekend. I got out of the hospital and vaguely remember the weekend. All of it. It was dark Friday night. I got back to my moms n told her Jaimie didn't know and she needed to. I remember her crying on me. I remember another friend on Saturday, barely. I slept through New Years, waking at 12:07, texting Jaimie happy birthday and falling back to sleep. Sunday I got up out of bed for more then just to pee. I ate some scrambled eggs that night, n went back to bed. Doctors had told me no work til at least Monday. I returned to work Monday night. I was still sick, felt horrible, and wasn't sure I had energy to last 6 hours on my feet. I'd spent the past 3 days asleep. I wouldn't drink caffeine, scared it would harm my system. I needed to heal.
*WRITTEN 2/3/2012*
i didnt realize i never finished it and didnt post it. i got therapy, got help, got on medication, and now i'mmarried, happy, and stable.
So.. where to begin? A few months ago, I shared a post. It was my story. One reason out of many for why my head is so ridiculously FUCKED right now... My up bringing is another reason, but I don't feel like going there this moment...
Maybe I should dabble there..
My mother is bipolar. Now, some of you may be aware of how it kind of works.. some of you might even be bipolar yourself. First thing is first... No two people are the same. There are general symptoms of bipolar disorder. Also know, if a doctor has not diagnosed you, you might not be. You might have something else going on, so while it is good that your aware something is wrong, GO SEE A DOCTOR. Beyond that... As I said, no two people are the same. Some are the manic kind. The kind that don't sleep, the kind that almost remind you of a crack addict, they are generally on the happy side when manic. Generally. There is the depressed side. The I-don't-wanna-get-out-of-bed side, the tearful and sad side. The despair. The feeling of being utterly alone and like no one understands. And there is the in between...
When I say no two people are the same, I mean that. I started showing signs of being bipolar, I don't know when, but I did. Everything inside me is so out of whack, I couldn't begin to tell you what has happened. I took a stupid online test and found myself testing about as bipolar as they come. Hello, you have my attention. I found myself sleeping maybe 2 hours a night in November, regardless of everything I tried to do. I just didn't sleep. Weeks. Like that. Angry. Depressed but wide awake, screaming, fighting. Pushing fights. My poor fiance truly did have a lot to put up with. I did try reaching out. I swear I did. At some point, in December, I felt so dead inside I wanted to die. So I said something. I reached out, I asked for help, I called a hospital, I called and tried to get myself help and wasn't called back. I reached out to friends, and some to this day simply do not get it. Their words scream their lack of understanding.
In my life, very close to me are 3 bipolar people. Each different, as different as can be. And I was compared to another bipolar person and told there is no way I am. One has a tendency to be manic, my mom was always depressed and the other fluctuates so much it could make ur head spin. My mother has only had 2 full on manic episodes in her 25+ years being bipolar. I have seen her manic, but she's what they call hypo manic. Kind of a toned down version. They aren't so cracked out. My mom thinks I'm like that, and I am in agreeance that my mania is moderately manageable.
Well, on December 30th 2011, I took an entire bottle of pills and I tried to kill myself. I. Was. Done. Tired of hurting, of asking for help and not getting it. I thought about it for weeks. Realizing that yes, a few people cared, but couldn't fix me and others cared but didn't have the time to try and help. I have worked so hard to over come everything I was brought up with. I got tired of fighting. I got tired of fighting for the will to live.
Sometimes people can try to help but don't know how to proceed in doing so. Sometimes, they try and become overwhelmed by their feelings. Sometimes they are pushed to breaking points. Often times he was pushed by me for no reason other then my desire to drive him away. I don't think it was different then me telling another person I wanted them to stop caring so I could die in peace. I just didn't know how to push her like that right then... I was also totally trashed, drunk to puking and the leave-me-the-hell-alone-so-I-can-die kind of drunk, except it wasn't just the alcohol making me projectile vomit, I actually said it and meant it. She asked me later if I remembered what I said, and being as I was drunk and know I babbled a lot, I said no. Not sure what of my many things were said. She picked that, I claimed to not remember or very vaguely. It made it easier to keep her off my back as I decided how I would do it, when, and get all my stuff packed n ready for easy transport to be gotten rid of and thrown away or donated.
I kept telling my fiance how I felt and he kept telling me to get help. He didn't know how to get it for me and I didn't know how to make it go faster. He tried but I know my uncontrollable state of mind has taken a toll on him, but he loves me regardless. As he's kept telling ke he was going to get his court stuff handled, he started becoming worried about being gone. About my mental state. Rightfully so. I think he is the only person in my life who had seen inside my head and knew what was there.
On the 30th, I broke. Snapped. Got upset and decided I didn't care ne more.
And I barely remember that weekend. I got out of the hospital and vaguely remember the weekend. All of it. It was dark Friday night. I got back to my moms n told her Jaimie didn't know and she needed to. I remember her crying on me. I remember another friend on Saturday, barely. I slept through New Years, waking at 12:07, texting Jaimie happy birthday and falling back to sleep. Sunday I got up out of bed for more then just to pee. I ate some scrambled eggs that night, n went back to bed. Doctors had told me no work til at least Monday. I returned to work Monday night. I was still sick, felt horrible, and wasn't sure I had energy to last 6 hours on my feet. I'd spent the past 3 days asleep. I wouldn't drink caffeine, scared it would harm my system. I needed to heal.
*WRITTEN 2/3/2012*
i didnt realize i never finished it and didnt post it. i got therapy, got help, got on medication, and now i'mmarried, happy, and stable.
