I feel like writing a post about a suicide attempt and then not writing another post for a while is rude and disconcerting so this is the post that will let you know my current state of mind and what I think and hopefully it’s not all ramblings. But this isn’t a structured post. Not that my other ones are either but this is just me writing what’s flowing through my mind.
I find it difficult to find someone I can actually talk to. See I’m offered help a lot. Promise of an email or whatever and it never comes through which is fine and I’ll tell you why: I won’t know the truth. In the past I’ve told my dad, my ex girlfriend and my best friends how I’ve felt. I don’t know how to describe exactly what it’s like but with my dad the reaction I get is pretty much the equivalent of someone sticking their fingers in their ear and going “nyah nyah nyah” at the top of their lungs. With my ex girlfriend, who by the way made the offer to be there for me, it’s more like talking to cleverbot since I can predict the answer I’m going to get before I get it and those two responses are: “Oh okay” and “that sucks” and with my best friends which is mainly EC and KE, they try – God bless them do they try but it’s difficult since we’re in a 2-days-between-responses type relationship so two days later they’re overreacting about the suicide attempt I’m trying to put behind me but they’re not always great at it and my thing is that I’m usually pretty open with my mental illness if I plan on keeping you in my life. I do this because I form attachments fast and I put people on a pedestal but then my first depressive episode or seriously bad depressive episode, at least, and I run the risk of “this is not what I signed up for”.
I met my ex girlfriend and my two best friends via tumblr where I’d pretty much laid bare the problems I had, in fact one of my best friends found me from a post I made about the psychiatric hospital I stayed at and so there were no tricks. No hidden secrets. They were getting a mentally ill, sometimes suicidal friend. My dad, just by virtue of becoming a parent was signing up to that as well. When you have kids you sign up to any disability they have and any sexuality they have or gender. When you have a child you sign up to all of it and sometimes you get what you want and sometimes you don’t but they’re your children. Don’t have kids if you can’t imagine having a bipolar daughter or a gay son or a trans child. Just don’t.
Anyway, so this wasn’t a “I didn’t sign up for this situation” and if I have a friend, like I did in college who signed up for the reasonably nice, sweary, hoodies wearing girl but a few months later got the bipolar girl who later turned into some she didn’t even recognize and at that point I felt the friendship slipping away and I let it. I don’t believe that people should stay with someone when something they didn’t sign up for happens – at least not when that someone is me.
Which is why it immensely pisses me off that I still do not have anyone to fucking talk to. Every negative feeling I have shushed or quelled. I don’t want these feels to be quietened down – even though I know you mean well. I want them to be validated. God, I’ll even say it. I want help.
It’s very likely I’m to blame. I went off my medication because I didn’t like the depressed episodes whilst on the medication and it is my fault because I’m stubborn and childish and when my psychiatrist ignored me when I told he feeling depressed still and maybe subconsciously I did it as a ‘fuck you’ to her but that’s a massive maybe. I know I thought at the time that stopping them would allow hypomania to come back and I don’t know whether I’d still feel as awful on the medication as I do off it because not all of these symptoms are bipolar – some are psychological and as much as it pains me to admit it, it’s true. Whether I’d be abused or not, I don’t think anyone could have gone through the last 3 years I’ve had and not come out with some psychological issues. I mean isolation alone is enough to drive any one mad.
I go between wanting to kill myself and wanting to smash my surroundings and I go between the two a lot as my broken glasses which I threw at the wall will prove. I’m irritable and depressed and in pain (physical and mental) and I’m worrying the wrong people.
So my plan? Well the way I see it is I have two options: self implosion or calling my psychiatrist. Believe me I had to give it some serious thought.
At the end of it though I came out with that I will have to call my psychiatrist and see how that goes.