And so the REALLY annoying thing is . . .

. . . I want to see how sick I can get. How fucked up can I truly get?

Now, let me start by saying that this is not entirely true. I want to be better. I want to not have to deal with these constant mood swings. I want to feel normal.

Except that I don't.

This isn't some weird attention seeking thing going on here - let's get that straight. This is something, I think,  that almost every person with a chronic illness feels at some point. You've been through med change after med change after med change. You still feel like crap. Nothing you do seems to work. Everything starts to seem hopeless and pointless. Nothing has worked, so nothing will work.

It's frustrating. It's overwhelming. And it seems so much easier just to give up. Let the illness take you.

That's where I'm at. I've just made yet another med change - dropping Zyprexa and starting Latuda - hoping that this time it will work. That my mixed episode will finally end with minimal side effects from the meds. That for once, maybe, I'll feel okay.

I'll be honest - I'm not optimistic. I've been through this. Several times over the last 2 years (I've probably changed up my meds 10 times or so). I'm so fucked up, in fact, that my diagnosis has been changed from Bipolar 2 to Bipolar 1, ultra rapid cycling. I'm so fucked up, in fact, that my pdoc is trying to get me in to see the mood disorder specialists at Mass General in Boston. I'm so fucked up, in fact, my pdoc said that if I stopped my meds I would go psychotic - I would completely lose my shit.

And you know what? So be it. Let me completely lose my shit. Let me see how sick I can get. Am I really that fucked up? Am I really that sick?

Let's find out. Let's not take anything. Let's see what happens. Let the world sort it out for me.

But I can't do that. Because I don't want to do that. I have a family, a career. I have friends and obligations and hopes and dreams. And I don't want to do that. I want to get better.

I'm frustrated. I'm tired. I've exhausted my resources. I've done everything I'm supposed to do to get better. And still I struggle. Every day.

Every. Fucking. Day.

My friends are worried about me. Very worried, it seems. They see me from the outside. They see the swings, more so than I can I think.  I downplay this all. I wonder if I downplay it too much. I wonder if I'm already sicker than I think.

I worry, but I also don't care. What can I do about it anyway?

Nothing. That's what.

I'm having a hard time mustering up any feelings today. I'm flat but near tears. And that's it. My mood could change at any minute - and I don't know until it happens.

I don't even know how to explain how I feel - the turmoil and confusion and hopelessness and despair. The sadness. Breaking down sobbing for no reason but not being able to stop. And the pain in that - the emptiness and grief and pain that threatens to swallow you whole. So much so you want to die. In that instant you want to die.

But then the giddiness and excitement and outright joy. Feeling like I can take on the world and that I'm funnier and smarter and better than everyone. That I need to spend money and write and draw and paint and clean the house and run a marathon and do all these things right now and all at once! And they have to be done why don't you understand???

And the irritability. Oh the irritability. And anger and impatience. And this built up kinetic energy and hostility and the need to destroy something. Anything. Even if it means hurting myself severely. Snapping at my husband and son for the mere fact that they exist.

And I might cycle through these feelings ten times a day - or not much at all. They may be the extreme - the worst it could possibly be. Or it may be milder, a little easier to deal with. And the cycles come without warning, at the drop of a hat. One minute I'm okay and, literally, the next minute I'm not.

Does that make sense? Can you even fathom how difficult that is? To live every fucking day like that? To have it affect your family and your job? Your own sanity?

Can you understand why I want to give up? Why I want to throw in the towel and lose my shit? When nothing I do works? Does it make any sense at all?

I can't adequately convey what I'm feeling. I want to give up. I want to completely lose my shit.

But I want to get better. And I have to. So I guess I struggle the fuck on.

Tuesday morning

It's Tuesday morning. In case you couldn't figure that out on your own. You're welcome.

It's about 0920 right now and I have therapy in an hour. I both need therapy today but I'm also anxious about it. My mind is racing a bit at the moment and I feel shaky and fidgety. I woke up feeling okay. Not great, not bad . . . just okay. Which is fine. Then I started to feel a little down. Then I almost burst into tears for no good reason.

As I type this, I feel like I could burst into tear right now. For no reason. I'm slightly down. Not depressed, no feelings of despair or hopelessness. Just a little down. But I feel like I could cry and my mind is going 500 directions at once. I can't even quite figure out what to write or how to word it and thank GOD for spell check.

I'm nervous. My last post was written on Sunday morning. When I was a little hypo but otherwise okay. Sunday afternoon and evening were a different story. We went and saw Thor 2 (which gave me Loki feels and is a good movie, btw) and then went grocery shopping. Within minutes of leaving the theater, I crashed. Hard.

Scary hard.

I tried not to show it and I failed. Miserably. J told me to stop dwelling on whatever it was I was dwelling on. He was trying to be helpful. It only made me bitchier. Because I wasn't dwelling on anything. I literally had no discernible thought in my head. Nothing. Only feeling. And what I was feeling was horrible. Despair, hopelessness, worthlessness, pain, emptiness, hate, profound sadness, and the thought that I really shouldn't go on. That I couldn't do this again. I wanted to not exist.

And that terrified me. So much so I was contemplating admitting myself to the hospital.

But I don't want to do that. I really don't. So I tried to be better. I talked, I tried engaging, I did everything I could to fake it to bring myself up. J started assaulting me (in a good way, y'all. Playfully pushing me, holding me, acting like a loon). My mood only lifted slightly.

I painted when we got home while J worked on the yard. Still yucky. Had dinner. Still yucky. Ever so slightly better, but still yucky.

And then *poof*, I felt okay. *Poof*.  The fog lifted and I was okay. And I joked a little. And I laid on the couch with J to watch the Bronco game. And I was relieved and exhausted. I couldn't make it through the whole game because I was so emotionally exhausted.

Of course, I couldn't sleep either. Tried reading a bit. Didn't help. So I laid in bed with my racing thoughts focused on nothing.

Well, it's 0950 now. Thirty minutes to right just a tiny bit because my brain is so scattered. Off to the bathroom, and then therapy.

Just a quickie.

No, not that kind. Get your head outta the gutter.

I've had lots on my mind lately. Trying to sort out my anger issues as of late, the feeling of almost being in tears most of the time, feeling overwhelmed with everything. It's frustrating, it's annoying. I'm also wrestling with knowing that I'm having another ACOA talk in therapy next week. I need to. I need to get through this and move on but holy FUCK is it gonna suck. I'll be writing more on this, at some point, just not now. Gotta sort it out still.

Right now I'm actually writing for a mini vent. See, J is in kinda a foul mood. Just an off day for him. Everyone has them (I swear the whole last year and a half has been nothing but off days for me). He's been working hard, doing stuff around the house and I get it.

But my problem is that I let the moods of other people influence my mood and bring me down. First, with J especially, I think it's my fault. He tells me it's not, just an off day. But won't elaborate. Then, for some unknown reason, the fact that he's down makes me resentful, then annoyed, and then down myself. Then I withdraw and want to be alone.

Which is where I am now. I didn't really have a breakfast (coffee, yogurt, handful of chocolate covered pretzels), didn't eat lunch (well, a slice of cheese), and I don't want to eat dinner. I don't care. I don't care if I eat or not. I get like this when I feel like this. Fuck you food!! *holds middle fingers out triumphantly*

So I took a break and ate a banana. Go me. My jaw is bugging me. It keeps popping. Fuck you jaw. My dentist said physical therapy is next step. Yay.

Stupid mood and stupid jaw.

Why I Hate Myself: The Synopsis

I am hating on myself BIG TIME today. And nothing I'm trying to stop the self hate is working. So, here's the scoop *shifty eyes*:

1. I've had a bad week mood wise. I've had some very rough days involving lots of crying. I've had one day where I felt relatively okay most of the time, and one day of extreme irritability and hatred, followed by contempt and defeat after talking with my mom on the phone.

2. I'm beating myself up over said bad week of moods. Again, I should be past this, I should be okay, I shouldn't have to try so damn hard or struggle constantly against myself. I should be able to let go. But I can't or I don't or I won't and so I continue to struggle.

3. Weight. I've gained weight. I feel fat and disgusting and hate how my clothes fit and this makes me want to eat more and eat shitty food which perpetuates the weight gain. I need to get my ass back in the gym and working out consistently and I haven't. Making excuses. Some is actual time restraints, most is excuses.

4. My complexion. I am SO FUCKING SICK of my constant, unrelenting acne. And it's not like it's a couple pimples here and there - it's my entire face (and neck, and back) full of  large, small and often painful acne. And scarring. And discoloration. I have to wear a lot of makeup but I hate looking like I'm wearing a lot of makeup. And it cakes. And it looks obvious, and makes me self conscious.

5. My hair. I'm growing it out and it doesn't do what I want it to and it annoys me and I want to tear it out sometimes. Or chop it all off again (which I know I'll regret). I colored it, but my roots are showing and I hate spending the money to get it touched up. And I've had issues with store bought dye. And it's not long enough to pull into a pony tail without using 76 bobby pins to hold it in place.

6. Refer to numbers 1-5 as I keep ruminating over them even thought I'm desperately trying not to.

So I'm in a foul mood and I feel like crying but I'm not letting myself because I've spent too much time crying this week already. And I'm trying to "fake it till I make it" to bring my mood up.  And trying to think positive (doesn't seem like I am, reading the above - which is why I'm typing it out - purging it).

Yep. There ya go.