It's obvious she's mad

There are odd times when I forget I've got bipolar and I just carry on with day to day things without even thinking about it. It's not very often that happens. It's hard to forget when you're shoving a whole load of pills down your throat every day. It's hard to forget when your life has been turned upside down. It's hard to forget when most of the time you just don't feel right. It's hard to forget when you have to be mindful of nearly everything you do in order to try and keep yourself well. Maybe it's because it's been so long since I could say I felt really "stable". Maybe it's because there hasn't been a time for months and months where I could say I've been totally symptom free. Bipolar really is shit sometimes.
I don't know why but I'm often so conscious of it. I don't mean I'm ashamed of being bipolar, I mean I'm just so conscious of how I look, how I act and how I feel. I feel like I've got an arrow pointing at me saying "look at her she's got bipolar". Ridiculous really. When I'm with people that know I've got it I can't help thinking that they are looking at what I do or say and relating it back to bipolar. I feel like they're judging me, deciding if I'm up or down, if I'm in a good mood or bad mood, if I'm normal or crazy. When I'm with people who don't know I think that they must be thinking there's something not quite right about her. She must have something wrong with her. She's obviously got some sort of mental illness. She's not normal. I worry that people are laughing at me behind my back or discussing how mad I am. Of course it's mostly me being paranoid. Of course it's just me not thinking straight....
I'm sure most people who know me, or when people first meet me they think I'm outgoing and confident. When I'm up that's true. Social situations excite me and make me even more hyped up. I thrive on interacting with other people. I need to be around people. I need to be doing things. The rest of the time it's just an act that I've perfected over the years. Sometimes the thought of being near other people makes me feel so uncomfortable.
There are very few times that I feel really at ease with myself. When I'm with my best friend, just the two of us, that's when I feel most comfortable. I still worry that she thinks I'm stupid and I'm getting on her nerves. When I'm with my other best friend, that's when I feel most safe. I still worry that he thinks I'm a pain in the backside and that he feels sorry for me. I worry that he's embarrassed about me. When I'm with the guy I have sex with (so it did happen again) that's when I feel the most alive and confident about myself. I still worry that he doesn't really like me and thinks I'm just some old slapper. When I'm with my family I think they are judging me. It's not their fault. I know there's no real reasoning behind it but I can't help thinking it. Having said that I do think people really do sometimes base their opinions on the fact I have bipolar. I guess I do act differently sometimes. I guess it is obvious if I'm high or if I'm depressed. I guess if they pick up on those things and act on them then it's not all bad if it means I get help before things get out of control. 
I spend so much time worrying about what people think, yet in reality I doubt most people even give a shit. Some of the time I really don't give a shit either. If people don't like how I am tough. I'm such a contradiction. I think living alone makes you a bit more selfish, nothing to do with bipolar. I spend too much time thinking about things and analysing every little word or action. I over think things and end up coming to the most ridiculous conclusions. I can't help it.
For a huge part of my time it's a constant battle, juggling with my thoughts. Since I lost my job I have far too much time on my hands. Too much time to think about everything. Too much time to worry. Someone told me I was lucky not to have any responsibilities and be able to do whatever I like. Maybe but I don't always feel that way. It's hard enough getting through each day, even harder when there's no structure. I feel like I'm mostly floundering about wondering what to do next.
I've decided to go back to volunteering in the charity shop. I really loved it before so I'm hoping it will give me some purpose. They don't know about me being bipolar, though I'm sure they know that something's not quite right about me. 

Changes

I don't know why I feel so cross at the moment. I just feel angry but I don't really know why. I think I've come to a bit of a standstill and I don't know how to move forward. Sometimes I feel incredibly sorry for myself. Then I feel incredibly guilty as I know my little life and problems are pretty insignificant in the scheme of things. I get so wrapped up in my own world when really I'm not that important. Things have changed so much over the last few months and I don't really know how to handle it. I need to move on but I'm not sure how. There are some things I have no control over but there's a huge amount that I do and that's frightening. 
I think I've finally come to the conclusion that there's nothing I can do about my son. The police have a warrant for his arrest and he has gone AWOL. I can't help him if I don't even know where he is. The only time he's called me is to beg for money. I don't know if he is back on the heroin. I know he is in trouble and I know that he's blown his chances of help from the rest of my family. It's not good but I'm powerless to do anything. I feel like I've let him down but in reality he has let himself down. I know I should just let him get on with it but he's always there in the back of my mind. Of all the things I wished for my son, to be a drug addict was the last thing I ever imagined. 
Yesterday I had to go to the meeting to finalise termination of my employment. It was awful. I didn't realise how awful it would be. Even though I knew it was coming it still upset me more than I imagined. Having to sit in front of a panel of managers and listen to the report that had been compiled about how I'd had recurrent bouts of absence due to my ongoing mental health problems. How I'd been employed by them for 23 years but since 2007 I'd had over 20 episodes of sickness and over 1,200 days absent. How I'd had input 
from occupational health, the mental health team and various other agencies. How the organisation had done everything in their power to try and help me keep my job. How after due consideration they could no longer support me in my role. I tried to keep my head up but the tears just flowed as I listened. I couldn't help it, I felt so pathetic.They asked me if I had anything to say. What could I say? It was there in black and white. For the last 6 years I'd been off sick more than I'd been at work. I felt like a freak. They were very nice about it and they made it clear that it was in no way a disciplinary action and that my ability to do my job and actual performance was never in question. There was never any question that I was excellent at my job but in reality it doesn't make a shits bit of difference wether I was good at my job or not. I feel like I'm now probably unemployable. That's another huge part of my life fucked up.
I'm missing having someone to be intimate with. I know it was right to stop it but I do miss him and I do miss the sex. I don't always feel safe now. I know what I'm like when I get high and sex is on my mind. It frightens me. I really don't want to do it with just anybody. I know I'm going to have to be really careful and stay away from certain people and certain situations. 
I'm probably in the worst shape I've ever been. When I look in the mirror I hate what I see. It's one of the few things I know I can easily do something about. I am trying but it's just so hard to find the motivation. 
I still can't seem to make a clean break from my ex husband. He still messages me and I still reply. He still insists that if I was ever in "that dark place " I could turn to him. He means if I ever wanted to kill myself. He was one of the main reasons why I wanted to do it in the first place so I don't see how that works? 
My medication is still not right. My moods are all over the place. It's just never ending. 
It's coming up to Christmas, which is the worst time of year for me. Too many bad memories. This year has been unbelievably hard and I know I shouldn't wish time away but I really will be glad to see the back of it. I felt exactly the same this time last year and probably the same for the last 6 years. I don't deal with change very well. I know things can't stay the same forever but I just wish for a bit of stability. All I want is to be well and be happy. What I don't want is to upset anyone or cause any problems, which is what I seem to do constantly. I feel like I'm always taking and never giving. I keep telling myself things can't possibly get worse. Surely next year has to be different. 

What a joke....

So according to the report by my psychiatrist I haven't really got a problem at the moment but he still wants me to take more medication?  Maybe he thinks I'm going through some sort of phase. It almost feels like he's taking the piss.

His diagnosis is:
"F31.7 Bipolar Disorder currently in remission
The patient has had one manic, hypomanic or mixed episode in the past and in addition at least one other affective episode of manic, hypomanic, depressive or mixed type but is currently not suffering from any type of significant mood disturbance and has not done so for several months. The patient may however be receiving treatment to reduce the risk of future episodes."

What a joke. Well, yippee. So, according to him I haven't been suffering from anything significant at all! I guess I must have been imagining all the shit I've been going through. I must have imagined that my mood has been all over the place for months. I must have imagined the thousands of pounds I've frittered away on crap. I must have imagined that I've lost my job because of my health. I must have imagined the days on end where I felt so low that I couldn't get out of bed. I must have imagined the nights where I've felt so restless I didn't  go to bed at all. I must have imagined feeling so desperate that I wanted to die. I must have imagined feeling so irritable that even a door shutting made me want to hit someone. I must have imagined people telling me I was "high as a kite" or that they were worried because they could tell by my voice I was so down. I must have imagined feeling so confused that I felt I had to run away. I must have imagined that my entire life has been turned upside down because of my moods.
Well how stupid of me.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be labeled with something I haven't got but for fucks sake. This last year has been horrendous.I agree that things have happened that are nothing to do with bipolar. I agree that having a heart attack and having all the problems with my son would challenge anyone's mental state but I don't agree that I haven't suffered because of my moods. I haven't felt right for months. I still don't feel right. I know there's something very wrong. I've said it before, as long as you're not manic or suicidal they don't give a shit about anything in between. He wrote that I spend money to make myself happy...no it doesn't make me happy knowing that I'm probably going to end up broke. He wrote that I live alone but have good neighbours..? No mention that I lost my job because of my sickness record. He wrote that my mood is fluctuating...I know!  He wrote that I sometimes have thoughts of killing myself but that I won't act on it. I don't even know that, so how the fuck does he know? He said I often get angry for no reason. How dare he tell me there's nothing wrong and expect me to take even more medication, when everything is wrong.
I don't even know if bipolar can ever truly be in remission. I always think of remission as symptom free. For me I would think of it as being depression free and hypomania free and all those other horrible in between moods free. I'd think of it as being able to get up in the morning, go to work, come home, cook dinner, have a social life, sleep in my bed. I'd think of it as being able to function properly on a daily basis. I don't know why I feel so cross. I would love to say my bipolar was in remission but I know that's not true right now. Of course I'm not a psychiatrist so I don't really know what the criteria is. What I do know is that sending out reports that are in no way helpful is detrimental to my health.
So, if I'm not suffering from any type of significant mood disturbance then maybe I should just say stuff it and go it alone. Maybe I don't need a psychiatrist. Maybe I don't need a care-coordinator and maybe I don't need handfuls of fucking pills.

So I spoke to my care coordinator about it and she agrees that sometimes what psychiatrists write isn't always obviously helpful but that I'm really getting upset for the wrong reasons. She agrees that my mood is fluctuating rapidly....that's why he increased my meds and why I need to see a psychiatrist and why I have a care coordinator! She said that they follow strict guidelines and the criteria for diagnosing people is set in stone. She explained that what they mean by significant mood disturbances are the very very extremes.  She agreed that he probably missed out some important facts and that he didn't explain things to me very well but that what he wrote was to inform others involved in my care and mainly to ensure my safety. She suggested that maybe it wasn't necessary for me to receive the reports. I don't know about that. She also stressed that she thought it would be very dangerous for me to come off my medication. She couldn't say 100% what would happen but suspects that without it I probably would become very ill and hit one of the extremes. I don't know if I feel better about it. I know things could be a lot worse but I always feel lately that I'm on the very edge of completely losing it. Sometimes I do get myself in a state but it's hard to see things clearly when there aren't always straightforward answers. I just get scared that's all.

When all else fails, go shopping?

I thought I'd better do as the doctor said and increase my medication. I hate it when I have to change meds. It always frightens me. Quetiapine is pretty strong stuff and I always worry about side effects. I don't like the idea of not being in control. I hate the idea of being turned into a zombie. A bit daft really as I really haven't felt in control anyway. I doubt it could make things worse. Well, it's five days in and mentally I am starting to feel a bit better. Some of the time anyway. If anything I've been on a bit of a high, despite all the crap that's going on in my life. I actually feel reasonably happy, which I haven't done for a very long time. Physically I feel like shit. At times I'm so tired it's unbelievable. I'm so tired during the day but wide awake when I'm supposed to be asleep! I'm hoping as my body gets used to it that will pass. I'm hoping that after months and months of my moods being all over the place I'll have some stability. I need it badly. I need to get myself back on track. I need to get organised. I've made a start. Yesterday I sat and went through my finances. It's not great. I don't want to say exactly how much money I've wasted when I've been high and gone on spending sprees. Over the last couple of years it's run into thousands. All on stuff that I was convinced I needed at the time but mostly a load of crap. I don't know what happens but I manage to tell myself there is no problem. I mostly buy clothes but it could be anything. I've got all sorts of weird and wonderful gadgets that are still in the box. I'll buy anything apart from the stuff I really do need...like food. The last time I felt really well I put a fair bit of my money into places where I couldn't get at it. Thank goodness I did or I'm sure by now I'd be totally skint. I don't know why it's so common for people with bipolar to struggle with managing money. I don't know why there are times when I'm compelled to shop and shop for stuff I don't need. I don't always remember doing it. Sometimes I do and I don't really care. I don't even remember if it makes me feel better. It just seems right at the time. Maybe it is a form of self medicating? It frightens me when I'm sorting through what I've bought. I often find two or three of exactly the same item. I find it hard to get to grips with why on earth I would do it. I buy stuff that I'm never ever going to use. I find stuff packed away that I don't even remember buying. Sometimes I give it away just to get it out of my flat. I put at least ten brand new items of clothing into a charity bag this morning. I feel so guilty that I've done it and I wonder how I'm going to manage in the future. When I've been depressed I've missed payments and ignored bills. I've given money away and acted as if I had a never ending supply. When I'm well I am really good with my money, I'm organised and I know where every penny goes. Unfortunately that's not very often. I don't know what the answer is. Unless I let someone else manage my money I doubt there is an answer. I don't think I could ever let anyone do that. When I feel well I'm too strong willed and independent. Unless I cut off my internet so I don't have access to the thousands of opportunities to shop online I think I'm always going to have a problem. I don't have any credit cards anymore, that really is too dangerous. The times I've closed and reopened my eBay and Amazon accounts is unreal. I once spent nearly £4,000 on eBay in less than a week. I was still married then and as I was the one who sorted the finances I managed to hide most of it. Not one item cost more than £30, so you can imagine how many parcels came flooding through the door. That's the trouble, it's all too easy. I guess I have to try and get as organised as I can while my mood allows me and hope for the best. When I got my divorce money it was supposed to set me up for the rest of my life. Small compensation really for 23years of marriage but I guess I should count myself lucky. At least I had some money to start with. In truth I may as well have flushed half of it down the toilet. I'd like to say money is not important but unfortunately it is. I'm on my own, I have no job and I have to look after number one. Fucking bipolar.

What a difference a day makes....

Some people are special. Some people are just extra special. That's how I see my best friends son. At the weekend I spent the day with him, his girlfriend and his best mate. The two guys were doing a gruelling sixteen mile obstacle course, so as well as to cheer them on I went along to keep his girlfriend company watching them. It was a long, long day. The weather was shit and it was cold and muddy but it was the best day I've had in a long time. It was the best day not just because of the event but because of who I spent it with. I felt honoured that they'd let me be a part of something that was so important to them.
I nearly didn't go. The usual reasons.... they probably didn't really want me there, they only asked me because they felt sorry for me, I'd get in the way, I'd probably do or say something to spoil it, they wouldn't really want some stupid old cow cramping their style. All absolute rubbish reasons and just the usual ridiculous stuff that goes on in my head whenever something is going on. They asked me because they wanted me to go. I didn't feel awkward and I didn't feel out of place. All those insecurities just slipped away as the day went on. I just felt "normal" for a change. They all made me feel part of it and not once did I feel like I shouldn't have been there. I felt so happy and so proud seeing them finish the course. I haven't felt so relaxed for a long time. It's funny but spending a day out in the fresh air, watching the determination on peoples faces as they worked so hard to complete the course really helped me to put things into perspective. What a difference a day makes!
My friends son is the same age as my own son. They used to play together when they were little. That's it, that's the only thing they have in common. I know that I can rely on my friends son 100%. I know that he would do anything he possibly could if I was in trouble. I know he really cares and I know he loves me. Whenever I'm ill or something has happened he is always one of the first people to visit or even just text to see if I'm ok. He doesn't treat me any differently because of my bipolar. He listens when I go on about it and is encouraging without being patronising.  He treats me with respect and it's genuine. His girlfriend is the same. She has accepted me unconditionally as part of the family. I love them both very much. I can't say the same about my own son. Of course I love him more than anything. I know he loves me in his own way but I can't make him into something he's not. I have to accept that years of drug taking has made him selfish. I long for the day when he rings me just to see how I am instead of wanting money. I long for the day he rings me up just to say he loves me. I don't ever think it will happen and that really hurts.
Even when everything seems to be falling apart and I'm struggling to make sense of anything, knowing I have the love and support of a few special people really does help. My friend has four sons. They have all helped me in different ways over the years. I am certain that I could turn to any one of them and they would do their best to help. That really is something to be thankful for.
The best thing about it all is that I know my best friend doesn't mind at all that I "borrow"  her family every now and then and that really is special.

I've lost my job

 I've lost my job. The job that less than five months ago was deemed to be perfect for me. The job where after a week they told me it was as if I'd always been there. The job where I was doing so well that they asked me to increase my hours after only four weeks. The job where nobody knew about me being bipolar. The job that was supposed to give me a purpose. None of that seems real now. It's as if it was someone else doing it.
It wasn't my fault I went off sick. They changed my medication and it completely knocked me for six. It's not my fault I'm not ready to go back. It's not my fault that I'm not "stable" enough to return to work. Yet I feel so guilty because I've let so many people down and I feel so stupid that I can't do the job that I'm supposed to be so good at. I feel like a failure.
It will be finalised at a contractual review meeting. A panel will look at my sickness absence record, discuss my health, then terminate my employment. That's it. They are not doing anything wrong. They've followed procedure. If I'm really honest I can understand. Doesn't make me feel any better though.
I don't know what on earth I'm going to do. I've never been unemployed before. I don't know anything else apart from physio. I'm too young never to work again but I have a feeling that at nearly fifty and with a sickness record like mine, my job prospects are hardly going to be that great. I can't afford not to work and I don't even want to think about benefits. I don't think I can do any kind of care work again. The thought of being responsible for anyone else fills me with terror. I need a job with little or no responsibility yet I need something stimulating or I'll just get bored. I don't know if there is such a job. I'm not ready to go back yet so I just have to hope that if I start to feel better it will all become clearer. I don't want to wish time away but if I can just get Christmas out of the way then maybe next year will be a new start.

Psychiatrists know best?

So I decided to come home. A huge part was the fact that I missed my best friend. Talking to her made me realise how important friends are and how ridiculous it is for me to think I can do it all alone. I don't really feel any better for trying to run away but I suppose I have more of a plan of what I need to do to try and get my life back on track. I wrote a list of everything I think I need to do. There's nothing new on there. It's all stuff I've been talking about doing for months anyway. It's all stuff that should be routine. Eat properly, sleep in my bed, exercise, sort out my finances, the list goes on. It's easy to write a list. Not so easy to actually do any of it. Definitely not so easy while my mood is all over the place.
My first priority was to see or contact everyone who means anything to me. I visited my parents . They were blissfully unaware of my meltdown. When I arrived I was shocked to see my son. He was out in their garden cutting all the bushes. He seemed ok. He's been staying with a girlfriend . He showed me a bit of paper from the police station saying he'd had a drugs test and he was opiate free. I didn't ask why he was being drugs tested, I was just relieved at the result. He insists that he hasn't used heroin and I think I believe him.
I've seen my two sisters and my two closest friends.
I've seen most of my "other" family (my best friends family) and I messaged a couple of other friends. So that's everyone taken care of. I don't think I've upset anyone beyond repair. Now I need to sort myself out.
Last night I slept for 12hours solid. I still feel tired.
I'm seeing my psychiatrist tomorrow . It feels like tomorrow is D-Day for me. I have to try and make him see that I'm not right. I can't carry on the way I am. I need him to do something.

Well, that was a waste of time. I saw my psychiatrist. As soon as I arrived I knew it would be a disaster. My care-coordinator couldn't make it and the first thing he said to me was that we needed to get started quickly because he had a lot of people to see....great. He asked me a million and one questions. The usual stuff...... Was I spending lots of money? Did I ever feel superior to other people? Did I get road rage? How many hours do I sleep? Am I taking my medication? Do I ever feel like harming myself?  blah,blah,blah. He told me he wanted to leave my Lithium as it was and up my Quetiapine dose. He then told me that I needed to make sure I occupy my mind! That was it. No explanation as to why he wanted to up my medication, no explanation as to why he thinks I've been feeling and acting the way I have, nothing. I didn't even get the chance to ask him any questions but I made damn sure I called him an idiot as I walked out the door! Probably very rude but made me feel slightly better. I find it hard to put my trust in someone that I actually can't stand. I guess I either have to stuff a few more tablets down and hope for the best or stay as I am and I really don't think I can do that. I don't really know what to do. I probably should go and talk to my GP. I do actually trust him.

Time to go home?

I'm just an attention seeking drama queen. Well I suppose that's quite true in a way. I write these blogs for anyone to read. I do try to be honest and I only write things as I see them but still, maybe I do go on a bit. Maybe I'm hoping someone will pay attention and come and rescue me. I don't necessarily mean a knight in shining armour. I just mean someone who can help me make sense of it all. I'm heading towards fifty and instead of being settled and happy with life all I can see is disaster. I know negativity is a symptom of bipolar. I've made myself aware of the huge array of crappy moods that someone with bipolar might have to endure. It doesn't help. Sometimes it makes it worse, knowing there's always something. I doubt I'll ever feel normal.
I am sitting in a hotel room, miles away from home. I have to leave in half an hour and I still haven't decided what to do. Of course if I'd have done this a few weeks ago when I was high as kite it would have probably been a real adventure. I guess I'm just going to get in the car and see what happens.
I didn't drive far. I've got the worst sense of direction. I drive for miles and end up back in the same place! I ended up in a lovely little seaside town. Rows of beach huts and quaint holiday cottages. I walked along the beach then sat on a rock just staring at the sea. For the first time in weeks I actually felt really calm. I sat there for a good couple of hours. In my head I planned all the things I needed to do if I went home.
When I got back to my car I realised I'd had a missed call from my son. As soon as I rang him back I wished I hadn't . He was angry and on the defensive. He didn't have anywhere to stay, he didn't have any money, his supply of methadone had been cut, he wished he was in prison again, he might as well be back on the heroin. I had to tell him there was nothing I could do. He cut me off. Not once did he ask if I was ok. There really is nothing I can do. I just sat and cried.
Once I'd composed myself I decided to start driving again. When I was watching the sea I thought maybe I should start heading home but now I wanted to get even further away. Everything I'd planned was a joke.
I've ended up in another hotel room. I'm tired and feel like I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I plucked up the courage to ring my best friend. I didn't really need courage. I knew she wouldn't be cross. She was just pleased to hear from me. I still felt really guilty. We chatted for ages. We both came to the conclusion that I haven't been right for a long time now. I haven't had any length of time where I've been really "stable". My moods have been all over the place and even though I haven't hit any real extremes it's just not right. I can't go on like this. I need help. I need help before I end up doing something stupid. I agreed to go and see my doctor when I get home and she agreed to come with me. Talking to her really helped. I'm very lucky to have such a special friend.
I guess that means that tomorrow I should start heading home.