I recently learned that I prefer emails and writing blogs to instant messaging. I never thought I’d say that. But I find that if you write an email or a blog then the conversation is really changed. In an email, at least the ones I write, the first paragraph of a reply is the reply to your first paragraph so there could be multiple topics in the email but they can all be answered to and with a blog, the comments are usually about the blog that has been written. I find that either I’ve lost my personality, my ability to make conversation or people have become just plain ignorant and so instant messaging is boring and the conversation is easily changed.
Which is kind of my problem. I’ve been (at least internally) begging for someone to talk to but honestly, it doesn’t seem like anyone cares. I tell a mentor on a chat website specifically there to help with mental health problems, she will change the subject to herself. I talk to my friend an “okay” is the best I can get. My dad either doesn’t listen so he can pretend it doesn’t exist or he just does not care but when I do my next stupid thing and let’s face it, I have a next stupid thing in my future. I bet you Every. Single. One. of them will say “Ohh why didn’t you say something?” – I tried. You just wouldn’t listen.
Anyway, so I did a grown up thing on Wednesday. A Christmas party. I haven’t had a Christmas party in years and they were usually last day of school and was just Christmas music and snacks – they were rockin’ times. But this was an adult Christmas party which even though at a pizza place was still a big thing for me. For the days beforehand I was honestly stressing, unfortunately when I get stressed I jump immediately to the ultimate exit clause – suicide. But I kept putting myself down, calling myself a coward and in a twisted way it worked. I didn’t do anything but suicidal idealization is pretty much my only coping mechanism at the moment.
The Christmas party went better than expected. The social interaction wasn’t so tough but it reminded me of when I was younger and I was quite literally the life of the party but I got through it and well, the eating in front of people was hard but mainly because IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) means that I can’t eat large meals and this was a full sized plate pizza so I used the skills I developed when I had an eating disorder to make it look like I had eaten more than I had… Turns out there can be a healthy-ish use to those skills.
For desert I was full but had one scoop of vanilla ice cream and when the leader asked what we had she called mine boring and I’ll explain my problem with that…
I then had to walk home whilst everyone else was picked up and it kind of annoyed me because when I was 17, I couldn’t walk home alone. Wasn’t allowed out in the dark basically. But now I’m 18, no concern. But it’s whatever.
Now my problem with the desert this is ???? I don’t actually know I was just so personally offended and it was a kinda drastic thing to get offended about and this isn’t the first time so recently I’ve been questioning my bipolar diagnosis. Whether it is bipolar or borderline personality disorder or both? There’s a massive overlap in symptoms though but just my recent problems with relationships kind of highlights the possibility of me having it and plus all the “dissociative” symptoms that keep getting tossed off as PTSD and yet when I google to find ONE sources backing it up even one lousy forum post – nothing. I thought about bringing it up with my psychiatrist but some days bipolar is a better fit. It is possible to have both but BPD’s main treatment option is therapy and I won’t do that so I guess in this case: what’s in the label?
Right now I haven’t slept and I really want to but I have plans with my brother since he has a half day of school (go to mcDonalds because we live the wild life) and no matter what time I go to bed or what time I get up, I still can’t go to sleep until about 11am now. Which is why I apologise for how this might sound because I am working on four hours sleep about 19hrs ago so I’m tired as hell.