I’m tired of questioning myself every single day, am I sick or not? Do I have mental illness or is it all really just in my head? I’m tired of being so paranoid that I question whether I am sick or it’s just a game I’m playing with myself. I was just questioning in the groups on Facebook the other day, wondering if all the psychiatric medications that I’m on are placebos and I’m getting “better” all in my head. But a lot of people brought up the point of side effects, especially the bad ones, and that got me thinking—the doctor or pharmacist advises us about what the side effects are, we research the side effects ourselves and then what if, our greatest fears in regards of side effects start manifesting from paranoid thoughts to mentally induced actions or symptoms?
I’ve been rapid cycling in and out of hypomania and depression over the last couple months. I’m not sure if it’s the medications or my nerves, or what the factors are, but I’ve been keeping track of my moods, hours of sleep and medication doses and looking at the chart, I’ve had 3 highs in the last 2 months. This leads me to believe I’m Bipolar Type 2 with Rapid Cycling and Mixed Episodes, but the PDoc specifically said she diagnosed me Dual Diagnosed Bipolar Type 1/Alcoholic with Mixed Episodes. I experience psychosis during certain episodes. I see things when I’m manic and I hear things when I’m depressed. I make up grand delusions in my head about these “friends” I swear I have or the people that are in love with me because I’m the prettiest thing on the planet and I KNOW they’re delusions, but for some reason I really fall for the faux reality.
I have no friends, at least none in real life. I talk to people online, but I suck at maintaining relationships offline. I’m nervous, anxious and sarcastic and that sometimes comes across as rude. I don’t mean to be but Derrick understands me and I assume it’s safe to talk and joke with people like I do with Derrick and I’m totally wrong. When I make a new friend, I become slightly obsessed. I want to talk to them as much as possible, treat them special, buy them presents and take them out for lunch or dinner. I spoil them and when I don’t get the same attitude in return, I feel totally rejected and I begin to pull away from that friend and normally, I’d cut myself. See, I even rapid cycle my friendships. I do too much, I try too hard, to impress, to gain admiration and respect and in reality I’m making people feel uncomfortable and pressured. I hate myself for doing this, but I do it time and time again. Thank you Borderline Personality Disorder.
My OCD got the best of me today. I woke up with the insistent thoughts of cleaning and so I detailed the kitchen and then I had the urge to rearrange our bedroom. And that’s no easy feat, we have a lot of very heavy furniture in the room. But I feel restless if I don’t move around the furniture at least every once in a while. I hate it when it bugs me over and over again until I finally do it and even sometimes after I finish, I’m never satisfied. My biggest thing I’m obsessed with is that way things are stacked. I hate it when things are stacked all messy and it doesn’t make sense for things to be mixed together, like junk mail and important medical papers, kids drawings and receipts. Everything has a place and when my children or husband clutter my system, it irks the hell out of me. I become hella irritable and get pissed off at the world.
Today was Father’s Day and it really depresses me, in a different way than Mother’s Day depresses me. For those of you that don’t know, I’ve never met my birth father. I know his name. I know what high school he went to. I know his birth date. But the only Kenneth Joe Harmon, Jr. I’ve found via internet research, is dead. I don’t know if that’s him or not, but either way, I have lots of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and grandparents, I’d like to meet. I’d like to meet my father, but I doubt that’ll ever happen. I don’t think he wants to be found. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d have a Facebook, because he KNOWS I exist. So Father’s Day depresses me because I’m one of the bastards who doesn’t have a father. Sure, I had step-dads, but to be honest with you, they were both abusive pricks. I don’t like or miss either of them.
Overall today was kinda blah for me. The kids made me kind of irritable because they’re loud, noisy and bored too damn much. These kids of mine are overstimulated I tell you. They have too many toys and electronic companions to keep them company and then they have no idea how to use their imaginations when the electronics are gone. Man, they totally could not handle the 90s, when I was a kid. We totally had to solely rely on our imaginations to have a good time. I was a welfare child, from a broken (and broke) family and we couldn’t afford toys, unless they were broken, missing parts and only 50 cent at a yard sale. I don’t know how I’m going to handle these kids for 2 & 1/2 months of summer. Just thinking about it overwhelms me. Plus I’m so dependent on them eating two meals at school, so I can make our food at home stretch. But now everyone is eating here, 3 meals and 2 snacks a day. It’s overwhelming. I get anxious and panicky thinking about taking care of all four of them. I know Derrick is here to help, but he gets overwhelmed too. Two overwhelmed parents don’t equal a right.
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