anxiety · bipolar · death · depression · Meds

April and a sense of loss.

There was a fire on our street this morning. Loads of fire engines and ambulances. But no one was hurt, so that’s a blessing. But it has affected me in a bad way. I have this heavy sense of LOSS.

Had to walk past the house twice, not much damage outside, no marks of fire. But all the windows are broken and there’s water going down my street. Now they’re cutting off the electricity and gas.

I feel so sad for the people who lived there. Easter morning and your house is on fire. Next thing you know,  you’re walking out of your door with your belongings in a bag.

There were children in that house. No one was hurt, but now Red Cross is there for them. That eases some of my feelings, but my thoughts have been morbid since the fire. Which was just a few hours ago.

I realized that I messed up my meds. Which explains why I feel this so deeply and am slowly slipping into a depression. I was messed up before my morning meds and then after I took them, I was ok. I’m dipping down again, but writing this out helps.

I’m confused and scared and just not really here. If you can understand that feeling. Saw the neighbors kid this morning and the look on his face was exactly how I feel now, dazed. He’s BiPolar too.

I don’t know if I could have handled this illness as well if it began when I was a child.

So much to think about. So much I don’t want to think about, but I know I can’t stuff.

I realized that the month I was molested as a child, is the same month my brother died. Which is April, this month and my emotions and thoughts are a whirl. I processed the molestation years ago. I had originally blocked it from my memory and through hypnosis, I remembered when I was twenty-five; something that happened when I was five years old. I don’t think you ever really get over something like that, no matter what age you were or are when it happened. I am proof of that.

I can’t wait for this month to end. In the past, I was always in some type of mental turmoil during April. I would end up with a deep depression from nowhere and go inpatient and have to adjust my meds. This pattern went on for a long time and I didn’t have an idea why. I would be fine and then, BAM.

I can’t remember when it stopped, but things got better and the meds got better and the pattern stopped. I was doing pretty bad in the beginning of the month, just processing the first anniversary of my brothers’ death. But I was making it with help from therapy.

I was standing in the kitchen when it hit me that these two events took place in the same month. I knew it happened, but all I never knew exactly when. I just knew it was sunny.

This is my April. I have to be careful and mindful of my meds and therapy from now on, or I’ll be back in the bed crying all day or at least most of it.

 

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mental illness · social anxiety · Thoughts

You need to get out more… HA

You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard the above statement. You stay indoors too much. You have to get out and meet people, blah blah blah.

Well. I have social anxiety and a touch of agoraphobia. If it weren’t for my dog, I probably wouldn’t go out at all. ‘cept for doctor appointments. Those are my social moments. Sad but true.

And it takes a lot out of me to prepare to go and do what needs to be done. Like shopping, walking the pooch, dr. appts. and other responsibilities.

My therapist wants me to go out more. I want me to go out more. But, my head says, ‘it’s too scarey out there’. So much negative crap.

I’m hoping things improve in time. My knees are getting better, I walk better w/o a cane. Which is great.

After the surgery, I should feel even better. We’ll see.

There is always something going on and it’s usually not something to party about. I’m tired that and yes I do want some cheese with my Whine. LOL.

Many of my friends don’t understand that at 45, I’ve never truly lived. Done things that other people have taken for granted. Love, children, travel, concerts and even the little things. I started really getting out there and living, before the BiPolar came into my life.

But it was all put at a halt at the age of twenty three. Some nineteen years ago. That’s one thing my former best friend just didn’t get. No matter how hard I tried to convey this too him. It wasn’t whining, it was regret. Yeah, I feel robbed.

I was fine, well at least functioning etc. for 23 years. Then SLAM, the door shut. It’s hard to live with and something I really need to address. I realize that now.