Friday, 1 November 2013

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.

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