Blog about my feelings, one of my friends said.
Why are my
feelings anything different to anyone else's? I thought. Granted I have
bipolar disorder, but are those feelings more odd than anyone else?
So, a little
background.
I was a weird kid.
It was like I was an adult before my time. I over committed myself on a regular
basis. I was, what you could call, driven to succeed. However, this
drive did cause problems - I had a bit of a compulsive streak which came out as
' I have to be in bed before 9pm or something awful would happen.' I'm
not sure what that awful thing was going to be, but it's likely to be something
to do with death.
I was very unhappy
about the idea of death - my grandma's death in particular. I'd cry myself
to sleep at night wondering how I could cope when the person who had brought me
up, more or less, wasn't there. I have to admit, while I don't cry about
it, this still bothers me. It keeps me awake. I've been though a
fair amount of death since then, but still, I don't know how I'm going to cope.
No. I know exactly how I'm going to cope. I'm going to be a rock
while it's needed and then I'm going to fall apart.
That driven/crazy
thing went through my childhood. I had irrational fears of, for example,
physics classes that I didn't understand and couldn't see myself succeeding in.
Things like this turn up today. In my nightmares I am completely
unprepared for my Chemistry A level exams. I guess even my brain can't
handle A level Physics.
You see, in my
head, everything is understandable and achievable if you put your shoulder to
the wheel. I've just got a poorly shoulder right now.
I went for
counseling when I was at poly. And I've been through various counseling
techniques and books to fill the aching void around my solar plexus. Some
of my friends filled that gap with children. The only thing that almost did
that for me was an interesting combination of mephanamic acid and Feminax.
Trust me, girls, it's probably not good for you and you shouldn't take it
when you're about to go into a hypomanic phase, but it does make you feel like
you can conquer the world.
It was probably
about 2002 that I suspected I had a few more problems than my peers did.
I got tired and lethargic at times, but absolutely full of energy at
others. The doctor tested my blood and told me I had type 2 diabetes and an
underactive thyroid. Later in that decade they decided I had depression
too. But no one could identify where it came from in terms of what
triggered by depression.
I knew the
symptoms, though. The dirty dishes in the kitchen would rise to uncomfortable
levels - I'd call it the kitchen monster. My laundry pile would be the
same. Often people will say, 'Why don't you have less crockery or less
clothes?' I don't know. I'm a bit of a hoarder. And I do
regularly defrag my wardrobe.
But that's not the
point. I wasn't depressed because of the dirty dishes and clothes.
They were in that state because I was on the slide. Sometimes I
could turn it around, with a soggy phone call to my friend Cathy and the words
'It's time to make a list again'. And the joy that comes with actually
sorting out a problem makes things much lighter. However, things got past
this.
When I'm in a
hypomanic phase, I irritate the life out of people near me. I become a
neat freak. I put shopping trollies in the correct places in their
shelters. I'm Tigger. If I could turn cart wheels I would - down
work corridors. I'm inappropriate - I cleaned my sister's house when she was on
honeymoon. I was specifically told not to, only to babysit the cat.
I threw out some important documents. I still itch to clean and
clear in her house.
When I dip, I shut
down. It's hard to explain what it feels like, because it's not just sad. It
feels like I'm doing everything through Golden Syrup. I'm slowed down.
My brain doesn't work as much. Everything seems too much effort.
And it can hit me at any time. I can start the day in a vaguely
normal way. I make plans for what I'm going to do - maybe take a walk or meet
with a friend. Then the lethargy hits. I could be sitting on the loo and
it creeps over me. And then the only thing I can do is go to bed, listen
to something vaguely ludicrous and go to sleep.
