Okay. So three hours a night is sort of what I used to get on hectic school nights anyway. I’d say that even 3 hours, sleep deprivationwise is good. But…
I miss sleep deprivation. When I was sleep deprived, I was dozy, dumb and a little bit on the numb side. I had no idea how easier this made depression. I feel now like I have been punched in the throat and I am now drowning. I feel on edge all the time. With sleep deprivation I was on the edge with anger and irritability. But now I just feel this intense sadness and it’s awful. Anger came with fight. Sadness comes with giving up.
I know I usually do a play by play of my day. But my entire day was awful. I smiled. But a fake smile. I’ve mastered this skill. Unfortuantely I can’t take a qualification in it, if I could i’d pass with flying colours.
But I’m just immensely sad.
I was numb before.
This is why I’m relucant to change things.
My brain or my body, has or at least had a good system in place.
It was protecting my conciousness and in turn me, from suffering. That may have been what my sleep deprivation is about.
But I’m just playing amatuer psychologist. It just seems that we go 1 step forward to go two steps back.
The one step being getting closer to fixing sleep and two steps back is making depression worse.
One of the worst things is: ever since I was a little girl, when I was faced with a bad situation or a scared, nerve wracking, depressing situation. I would become extremely cold and shake. If the room wasn’t that warm, the shaking would be quite violent. I’ve been doing it on and off all day. With no real cause. Just this immense suicidal feeling.
I’ve even noticed a decrease in my joy for things. For example. Tumblr, I’ve had one for a while but never really used it. But I’ve recently got really into it. This should have sent me into an obsessive frenzy about blogging on tumblr and all of this but it hasn’t. It’s barely mused me and I have little energy to do anything. My back is quite weak and can’t take the shivering much longer. I have bad nerves and my nerves keep getting trapped. Also due to this shaking. This made me considerable ill in PE.
Suicidal things just rattle around my head. Planning it. To the last detail.
People say to me: “it’s not you, it’s your illness”.
Well, my illness is me. Me and my illness are one of the same. I do try and seperate as well. But… I just can’t. I can’t sit here and deny there’s nothing wrong. There is.
I write a lot about bipolar disorder on here. But honestly? I hate the word. I hate it being associated with me. It grinds against me. If you and I were ever in the same room and you were to scrape, usually two metal things together. I would flinch and probably leave the room as it makes my teeth itch. That is how the word mental illness and bipolar make me feel.
But as for the physical side effects. I’ve developed a rash on my back. It’s causing it to ache. I’ve been getting a few random bouts of dizziness.
My heart beat goes from normal to rapid sometimes but that’s anxiety.
But could this be something else? I mean we all know how my luck is. It could be unrelated. The dizziness could come from something stomach/food related whilst the rash could be my bag on my shoulder. Though my left one is my bad one and that doesn’t hurt.
I’m also not going CAMHS till the 20th December now as I can’t go tomorrow. But tomorrow dad and I are going to discuss the appointment for paid for psychiatrist because we need to send the mood diary 2 weeks prior.
But onto some more serious things. I’ll go onto more light hearted stuff at the end and so we can all feel more happy and maybe even excited.
I was talking to this girl about our suicide attempts and she is better. A lot better and is actually one of those spokes people for mental illness. Well she’s not really a girl. She’s 25-26 but anyway…
So I said that: “it’s hard to handle. It’s hard to be back in that position again.”
“I don’t think it’s desperation. I dno. Lack of fight I guess.”
“I was desperate. Hell any of us who try are desperate you said you’d give it till 2013.”
“Youre not really going to hold me to that, are you?”
She said she was and she went on to make me describe why I’m in that position again. Talk through the plans. Unfortuantely and when she reads this I know Ill get an mail. But I clamed up. I can’t talk about this. Call is ashamed. Call it the British stiff upper lip. I just can’t. But I don’t get why. There are so many people relying on me. So many people who need me and need me to stay alive.
But does anyone realise how amazingly frustrating it is to go a step forward to go two steps back?
I sometimes think it’d be easier to just suffer from depression. I think going from the most amazing feeling you’ve ever felt in your life to the worse is unfair and really rather cruel. To have the best feeling torn away from you and replaced with this… this awful feeling is maddening.
I used to deal with all the maddening things by escaping into my imagination. Substituting reality for my own. But now even my imagination has dried up. Maybe it’s sick of competing with this other reality. The reality I’m in. The reality a lot of other people are in I feel disconnected to. My imagination world I feel disconnected to. The reality I feel even the slightest bit connected to is my reality. This reality where nothing is as it seems where you’ll hear snatches of noise that aren’t there. See little girls in lights and pink cats across the road. In any other circumstance, I’d welcome such loveliness and randomness. But I don’t want it in bipolar disorder. I’m going to put it bluntly…
I’m hanging on by a thread.
And it’s not going to take a lot to pull me from it.
But on the lighter side:
A friend I know, recommended 2 things. Firstly. Use etsy as a shop to sell my items. Secondly, write my story down.
So and listen before anyone says it sounds crazy.
Apparently I am supposed to write a chapter a week or every two weeks or whenever I can fit it in. In the perspective of myself. Write about the past. Leading up to the present and one of the things that is sort of convincing me to it is, what they said:
“People write about after they’ve been cured, that’s boring. Not to be mean. If you wrote and it got quite full you could do multiple ones and it’d always be a guess on whether you’ll come out the other end out it.”
So even I’m intrigued.
I’ll consider it.
To sum up my blog.
The experiment didn’t have a hypothesis so there is no sucess or failure. Just that depression is much more poignant than it was with sleep deprivation.