It is hard to feel out of control.
This whole month has been break down central. I'm riding this rollercoaster with no safety net and I'm barely hanging onto the ride. Mom was talking to C and apparently "...she saw this coming 4 months ago." I wish she told me, I could have done something more. Except now that I say that, I know there really isn't anything I could have done more.
So I had my first psychiatrist appointment the other day. I came home with a possible new diagnoses, DBT booklet/diary cards, and a higher dosage of anti-psychotics. It is a good step but it still lies on me to do the grunt work. That is the worst part about mental health, even though you're so tired you still have to fight every day. Fight to breathe. Fight to smile. Fight to be alive.
Not to mention, my fathers one year is coming up on the 23rd. I can't believe it has only been a year since he died in this house. It does not feel like a year- it feels like 4.
Just another thing added onto a fractured woman.
Friday night breakdown to the worst extent
I was sitting there with a drink and a bullet
But only using the rum.
The thoughts were bad and they still are
I keep going over the fact that this will happen again.
That night I left the house in an ambulance. The cops here, too.
I was alone.
Too much for me to handle alone. Yet I do. Every time.
The chaos confined at the hospital and in my brain it follows.
I was too much to handle, he said. And left.
I returned home with a promise that crisis would call. Not a promise that I wouldn't kill myself. I never said it.
Work 13 hours the next day. These bags look like bruises under my eyes.
This is bad. I could pull the steering wheel.
Day 3 and I'm treated like a virus.
They stand far away to talk about the problem: me.
I know this is bad.
My thoughts are broken in half.
One piece, the potential professional, says everything needed to be said.
One piece, knows this will repeat. This is life long. No matter what you do while living, you'll end up here, again.
I cried to my mom yesterday about this.
About being tired of being bipolar.
About being tired of being unstable.
I'm tired of being me.
"Well, you have 2 choices."
I thought I was handing my own and staying on top of my illness. Even when I pay attention, I fail.
Friday was terrible. I lost control of myself. I snapped. I was trying to hard to pick up the slack at home that it turned into me doing almost everything. Every day was a routine of me pleading for help, being ignored until I stopped asking. It lead me into the hospital by ambulance.
I have realized that no matter what I do I will always be bipolar. I will always go through these episodes, it will continue to plague me until the day I die.
I kept trying to be positive but I can't do it anymore. I'm constantly arguing between the potential professional and the suicidal parts of me. I really don't know how much more fight I have left in me.
I know I've been silent the last 2 weeks but I have been so busy with life; and honestly, I needed it.
There are important lessons I believe we should learn while young that could shape our grasp of health that, sadly, are not taught. One in particular is learning how to safely step back from parts of your life that stress you out. I have found this lesson is so hard to learn as an adult because, for me, I was never told that it was ok to take a break. For most of my childhood I was told to "keep working at it" ("it" being anything you put effort in), no matter what. I remember being 13, waking up early to go to hockey practice, school, basketball practice, homework, chores, and then dealing with stresses of my abusive family.
No wonder I snapped so early in life.
I wish I could tell people to teach mindfulness and self care methods early in life. If this can be taught to young people then maybe there could be less stress that contributes to anxieties and breakdowns. To tell others to just take a step back when they know it's overloading them and either going on hiatus or letting someone else take over control until they find their own again. I think this could truly help the generations before us.
The past has a funny way of finding you.
A lady from my dark past of adulterous activities found me the other day. I don't talk about it at all because there is a lot of mixed emotions about my actions back then. I know I can never change that but I wonder if I didn't sell my body for money then things might not have ended up the way they did. I just had the hardest time typing that last sentence out.
I have slowly told people I love that are close to me because it was apart of me that made me who I am. Chris knows, and funny enough, he had his own secret similar to my own. I am lucky to have this honesty with him. I was able to talk to Kay a little bit today. I haven't had contact with her since my ex assaulted me, leaving me bruised and homeless. I said goodbye to her before I left, so I was surprised she searched for me. She thought I would be angry with her for asking me to fall down the rabbit hole with her.
There are many feelings regarding what happened those months in Toronto, but anger towards her wasn't one of them. I'm not sure when I will post this on my blog but I know it will go up. Until then, I'm Jenna and I'm doing my best to learn from my mistakes.
I have no idea how to start this post, mainly because I have no idea what to feel. I don't think I'm going crazy but it's actually a huge possibility. Logic dictates I'm not, however.
I hate this feeling. This, knowing but just not enough to say something. This stupid anxiety of every move made in my house. I know what I saw but it isn't enough. I can't even make a normal thought in my head right now. I suppose I have to just wait and see, which DRIVES ME INSANE.
I'm just...going to lose my mind over here.
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