This week I’ve had a really bad manic period. Mania can sometimes be fun because you can get stuff done and go on little amounts of sleep. But soon it either gets worse, catches up to you, or both. This week all three have happened. It started out with mild delusional things, which are horribly annoying but not horrid. But every night it got worse and worse. Two nights ago I was waking up every thirty minutes thinking there were bugs in my bed and people in my house until I finally gave up and just stared at my door and my sheets for the rest of the night. Last night I was sitting on my computer (looking at designer bags and clothes, as tends to happen when I get manic) and I heard this strange noise on the side of my bed. It sounded a bit like a gurgle. I was SURE there was something in there and played the muting TV game to make sure I heard it more than once. The second time I heard it I felt like if I didn’t go get my mom it would kill me, so I woke my mom and step-dad up at 3:30 rambling about something in my room. [Step-dad] came in but didn’t find anything, at which point I started going on about how I was delusional, but I think it came out as one word that he couldn’t understand. He told me to go sleep in mom’s room since I tend to feel safer if someone is next to me. But her room is full of shadows which is NOT good when you’re seeing things. I think there was something dog-ish looking next to the bed and I started to see lights everywhere. The lights aren’t bad because they’re not scary, but the rest is. I didn’t feel like I was going to die like I did in my room though, so at least an improvement. The worst though is that the whole room feels alive moving and you can’t scream. Or at least I never will. If I talk about it after it all happens, that feels okay. But if I get so scared that I scream it means I’ve lost control. There is nothing worse in the entire world than not being in control of yourself. And you know all that crap isn’t there but as many times as you tell yourself it just won’t go away. After a while of talking myself down by talking to mom, I finally went to bed. I had some crazy dream about twin cats and one of them died and the school was burning or something. Made no sense and made me restless, but not the worst part of the evening. I told mom I would go to the doctor if and ONLY IF there was a deal in place that he wouldn’t try to make me take pills. So we might do that. The other idea I had was to just take a few pills when I had episodes to knock the valporic acid level up long enough to get me through the week. Haven’t done that yet though. The thing that scares me the most is always the thought that I’ll never have a time when I don’t have to worry about randomly melting down. Which in essence means I’m a liability at any job I have. I refuse to accept defeat over that, but it’s really scary. Ugh. Anyhow, other than just being really really tired I’m okay now. No meds required, so HA. And no panic attacks or rages, so I’m really proud of myself.
I noticed people on my tag reader have been posting old journal entries, so stupid me decided to go look at mine. I am now depressed that I have effectively made NO progress whatsoever. Seven years ago. Age 19. Now 26…same shit. Remember the post that I mentioned the title “A Line Allows Progress, A Circle Does Not”? Welcome to my circle.
My life blows.
Chant in head says “don’t get depressed, don’t get depressed, don’t get depressed….”
Note: Before that post I hadn’t taken meds in a while, if you couldn’t guess from the content. Again, circle circle circle. You’d think all the times not taking medicine hasn’t worked out for me that I’d stay on the stupid things. Alas, insanity is doing the same thing, as they say.