NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

ImageSorry I’ve been away for so long. I was feeling alright.

As I said in earlier posts I Iost my health insurance. Or rather my douchebag ex vindicately cancelled it. Anyways… I’ve had a bad week. The worst I can recall. Since I was a kid.

When I was 16 I was hospitalized twice, and then once again at 17. The generic medications that I’m now on (because they’re all I can afford) are not working.

And I’ve started cycling. Intensely.

Tuesday, May 1 — Total despair. Alone in the world.

Wednesday, May 2 — Aggressive. Agitated. Kicking garbage cans. Ran into my ex’s asshole boss. Wanted to tell him to not ever ride my fucking train again!!!! Didn’t. Swore, then moved to the other side of the car.

Thursday, May 3 — OK

Friday, May 4 — Worst mania I can remember. Racing thoughts, constant commentary in my head about everything I’m doing, everything I’m thinking, everything going on around me. My thoughts became bizarre. Preocupied with what constitutes “normal” behavior, and whether or not I was acting normal. I knew I wasn’t. Goofy, angry energy. Laughing at random things: the delivery truck that got stuck, the man that bumped into someone, the receipt machine that wouldn’t work. Didn’t care how people perceived me. Tried to hold it in when I talked with my boss… god I didn’t want her to see the crazy leeking out of my ears. Do I go around the pillar this way or THIS way? Which way is the normal way? Think the word SAMPLE, and then see the word SAMPLE written on a poster. Take note of this because it’s very notable. Called my Dr. Texted everyone that knows I’m bipolar for help. Went home early.

Saturday, May 5 — Painted. Productive.

Sunday, May 6 — Manic again. Waiting for my Dr at her office who is late at 9:15 in the morning. Wait on the street. I sit down on the sidewalk. Normal people don’t do this, only homeless people do that. Chain smoke a pack of cigarettes.  Shift. Listen to music. Walk around. Hide. Hide behind the payphone booth because I don’t want my Dr to see me on the street like this when she arrives. Glance around the corner every 5 seconds like a fucking paranoid lunatic ÷≥to see if she’s arrived

Told her about my thoughts and tried to explain how they felt special, or notable. or significant. She said my thoughts felt like they had MEANING.  That was exactly it.

She confirmed I was manic, or as psychiatrists say, “you have symptoms of mania.” lol. They never say you ARE X or you ARE Y. Just that you have symptoms.

She prescribed Seroquel.

Took my first pill of the new med that night.

Knocks me out like a motherfucker.

Monday, May 6 — Met my Dr again at her office at 4:45. She gave me a bottle of Seroquel she swiped from somewhere. The drug is $600 and she knows I can’t afford that. She told me not to worry about getting it as long as I need it. And she didn’t charge me for either visit.

Tuesday, May 7 — So drowsy and foggy and not present. After work and the gym, became utterly depressed. Sat outside on the street, on the sidewalk, in the rain, on west 25 and 6th Ave, chain smoking. I can do this because I’m not in the world. Not really. I’m invisible. Meaningless. Existing is meaningless. God I’m back in that place, after 17 years. It’s not an I’m sad kind of down. It’s an emptiness, a void. A lack of being attached to life.

I keep thinking about a text I had with a friend last Friday. He told me not to off myself because if he finds out I’m not taking my meds that he’s gonna kill me. For just a moment, a very brief moment, the idea felt appealing. No more hurt, no more feeling crazy. It’s a dark thought. I remember it. I remember what happens after it takes up residence in me.

I’m a teenager again. I’ve been rebelling. I’m skipping school. I’m hanging out in downtown Buffalo at a big marble statue that was my friends’ favorite place to meet up when we decided to cut class together. Meet at 9am at the statue. It was in a little park, with a traffic rotary around it. In front of the library. far away enough from anyone from our school that might see us. I felt so free when I was there. It was a break from all the bs of school. I had a lot of fun with my friends there… laughed. Stole things from stores like blue nail polish or magenta hair dye. Or my friends would give me gifts of things they had stolen the day before when they thought of me. Lillian. She was really cool.

But then I’d start going there on my own. In winter. in the snow. I thought I could bundle up and just stay there all day, but I’d last about 2 hours. Then I went to school to get warm. Then had those dark thoughts… and left a note with the guidance counselor saying I was afraid of hurting myself and I needed to leave. I walked back downtown and hid in a parking garage.

Hiding. I also hid in a closet once during a class I hated. I layed down on the floor. WHen she came to get her coat, she screamed and ran out yelling, “THERE’S A BODY IN THERE!.” lol. I hated her so I’m glad to traumatize that homophobic bitch.

Anyway… I’m back there again. Somehow all of the feelings and thoughts that drove me crazy as a kid have returned. I’m thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same feelings, doing the same things. Like hiding in plain site.

I forgot about what it’s like to go through this. I forgot how hard it is. There’s a middle ground where you’re very unwell, but you’re still well enough to be aware of this fact. That’s where I am… aware.

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About bipolarpainter

I'm a 32 year old artist living in Brooklyn, NY. Diagnosed Bipolar II about 8 months ago. Want to share my experience and hope it helps others connect.
This entry was posted in About Mania, Anger, Depression, Hypomania, Mania, Sadness, Treatment and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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