I feel like the pecking order when you have bipolar is the mood you’re in and nothing else. I have turned a picture I painted whilst manic into a set of art about a guy who commits suicide by jumping off the moo(d)n. I received the pens I won from a give away that are all art and I have no idea what to draw. I drew my brother a sherlock theme picture and I drew the second instalment of the guy who commits suicide by jumping off the moon but that’s it. School and I are back at odds again, I was hoping this year would be different. I was hoping the manic episode I had at the beginning was a sign but it’s not. Or it is. A sign that I’m going to be fucked 3 ways about Sunday until I’m begging for mercy under bipolar’s thumb.
The worst part is I’m not even in the worst of it, it’s like when you’re 9 years old and you’re in the deep pool but the shallow end of it and you know whatever happens you’re going to end up in the deep part of the deep pool fighting for breath by standing on your tip toes and keeping your nose above water anyway you can. At least that’s what it feel like to me. Right now I feel like watching an endless torrent (pun intended) of movies, especially the one’s featuring mental illness. The melancholy ones. The ones with the sad girl and the person who fixes her. Even though I hate those stories because they’re so utterly fake.
My psychometric tests are booked for 11th Feb and I’m probably going to change medication again since lovely abilify causes:
- Bad quality of sleep
- Which leads to nightmares
- and flashbacks
- and that causes short amount of sleep too
Least before I had good-ish quality of sleep on 2 1/2 hours. Which my dad still thinks because I survived on no hours sleep at one point, I should be able to survive with this medication that causes sleep issues. I can’t and won’t.