‘I know I’m on a losing streak…’

Here I sit, a perfumed breeze full of the joyous smells of summer drifting in from the open window, the glow of a magnificent full moon lending its light to the darkness and the calming sound of falling rain, along with the heady and crisp freshness of the night, yet inside turmoil reigns, noise overwhelms and overshadows all of the beauty, all of the glorious and magnificent comforts that life has to offer – the very things that keep us moving/living/breathing and yet my gluttonous, selfish mind wants all of the attention, it screams at me, it spreads the disease of worry and cultures the infection of paranoia leaving me very little room to stop and smell the roses, to enjoy the beauty of life.

I am a towering inferno of fire, burning too brightly to ever hope to be extinguished…

The wonderful after effect of a rather reckless high mood is picking up the pieces after you come down. I have made a big mess, I hit the self destruct button and did a marvellous job of tearing my life apart. Oh, it was fun while I was doing it – it felt good, it felt right and those around me, for the most part, thought it was good and right too – I looked happy, I was sociable, though quite inappropriate and bordering on rude at times… I seemed in control but it wasn’t me, it was my disease. Now, not many people are going to buy this defence, let’s look at it honestly ‘I spent all of the money for bills on chocolate that I never ate because I don’t eat when I’m happy – but it wasn’t me, my Bipolar made me do it.‘ Yeah, right. The most supportive person in the world might have a few problems choking that one down… But hey, it’s all I’ve got.

So, I missed a lot of appointments that were pretty important, there will be consequences. I missed a few bills and bought a few reckless things, now I need to try and fix the mess I have made with the meagre amount of money I have. I told a few lies and I messed up a few friendships, I treated people badly and paranoia made me believe things that weren’t true and persecute those who care for me; bringing an immense sense of guilt and now some bridges need mending…

The other wonderful thing about the after effects of a prolonged high mood is the inevitable plunge into darkness that comes afterwards. This high was fairly big for me and so the low I am currently inflicted with is not so easy to climb out of. The weight of the mess I have made is crushing me, I feel as though I am at a dead end, I can’t cope; how can I begin to move forward? What is the point in fixing things/getting out of bed/living/breathing… and here is where my brain turns against me; he has a magnificent solution to my every woe, suicide. (My psychiatrist is aware of this and supporting me as such)

I am afraid of myself.

I am also afraid of the perception of others, the likelihood is that this will come across as melodramatic as I have so often been told in the past. That I will be perceived as an attention seeker. It is quite remarkable how the careless comments of others, through your childhood or any moment of your life can damage you, leave you unable to express your true feelings for fear of the repercussions that will likely never come because they were merely the perception of one closed mind. 

For now I will carry on, one day at a time, minute by minute, hour by hour… I will search for my reason to fight, I will put one foot in front of the other and I will survive.

Depression lies…

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