Friday, 9 October 2015

DAY 94

I'm having a superbly tough time, but I just imagine that if I say I'm okay - wires will attach in my brain to make me feel better. I'm starting to feel like now, being unmedicated for so long - that I should consider taking my lithium again. You know what the most ridiculous thing is? I'm paranoid, I'm so paranoid of who is reading this right now that I can't actually write what I want to say which is such a different experience than what it was on Day 1. Maybe it's because people are actually reading, maybe it's because I'm actually feeling something intense when this blog has been blanketed by my Bipolar treatment experience and maintaining that normality that when I'm entering this episode - which I can so clearly see - I know that I can't be honest about this all.

Bullies, Ex-Boyfriends, Estranged Friends... They silence me 100%. One thing about this blog is that when I see the thousands, I just think 'Oh it's a number', I don't see the faces of people when they look at the screen and take in my words. I guess that makes it easier to write. When someone comes up to me or someone I know actually contacts me and says 'I heard about your blog', that's the moment where my face turns stone cold and I think: I've just let them inside my head. When you let people inside your head, they can wander all day and that's what I'm doing here. I'm essentially creating this massive bank of information on how entirely messed up I am. How on earth would I find new friends or a new partner - when this exists? The truth of the situation is that whilst those who understand and can relate can somehow appreciate what I'm saying, there are going to be so many people out there who just can't get their head around it all. To some people, problems in the head just don't exist - it's just this realm of imagination that people almost play out for themselves. A mood disorder is attention seeking and psychotic illness is a world of fantasy, where the victim of both is indeed not a victim, but a creator. I write a lot, I would love to write for the rest of my life but I can't write my life. I am not the author of my illness, I can do as much as I can to control situations but I can't control this and it entirely exists and operates independently within myself, it is not a figment of the imagination and it is most definitely not some sort of plea for attention.

In the weeks I realised the issues got worse and worse, I made so many plans. I figured out A, B and C - these precise things I needed to carry out to bring my life into focus and soft blur the antagonising issues surrounding me. What was wrong with my plans was that I was so completely alone, in talking - I can talk to so many people online and I understand that, I can go to a support group and I have a whole team of medical staff that can help me out. That's talking to manage an illness. In order to manage an illness, I have to do something with my life and so at this point we're focusing on who is in my life, what I do with my life and why I do it. These variables are entirely the issue, I can say 'I'm going to see my friends frequently and have fun like I used to' - but when your friends are the busiest and most unreliable people, it's just pointless. You know I have people laughing at my supposed 'breakdown' because people can't seem to distinguish the difference between character and illness. I honestly can't seem to get what I want to say out, because when I finally do - everyone pretends that they didn't see it and that's why it's so fucked up. Everyone in this world is so grotesquely convinced that people are not their problem, well listen: You as a human being have responsibility for the world and all that is in it.

I have so many bubbling experiences in my life at this moment that I can't speak about aloud and that's ruining me. I would write on here but you know there are so many people actively telling me 'Don't write this on your blog', not that I would ever divulge drastically personal information but it's offensive that they would even believe I had that much disregard for others and that this blog has became a form of burn book for woes and sins inclusive of my own. Then we're taken to the point that people are imposing this super injunction against me, that I can't talk about my life anymore because they are in it. Then that takes us to the point - I can't talk about my life anymore, because you read it.

I'm probably babbling at this point, and I don't even feel like reading this again (as usual) so it seems this will be a first draft and I'm sure it will be absolutely inundated with atrocious grammar and spelling issues, of which I am not identifying or taking responsibility for.

If it didn't just scare me that those who know what I'm going through take little to do with me, it scares me that I have this platform to say how I feel and that those I know read it and leave it. They just leave it because it means nothing to them, a stylistic piece - I'm ever so inspirational though. People talk when they're proud of me, but If I am not on top of this they all leave and that's what I can't take. When are we all just going to grow up and have compassion for one another and be able to step in and talk to someone when you feel they need it - this is past the point of cry for help. There are so many signs of trouble in both Depression and Mania and people don't see it not because it's so obscure, but because they are so ignorant. Why is a suicide attempt considered a cry for help? It's not, they're ending the pain - they have outright passed the point of looking for help and took the matter into their own hands. Then there those who die. Everyone grieves, everyone asks why and the answer has never been so clear - they needed help. If someone dies on their own terms, it's not blame free honestly there are so many situations you can look into and pinpoint the exact moments where an intervention could've been placed and something could have been sorted out.

The issue: People don't give a shit unless it affects them. If you've managed to read this far and felt the heat of essentially my rage, I hope you take one big thing from this - the same thing I've reinforced for these past few months: please be attentive to others and be kind. We are all responsible for each other as a part of humankind, mental illness is very much real and if you're just idly sitting by whilst someone self destructs, well you might as well pick up your hammer and help break them up. I am way past the point of help at this moment, but I want to assure you all that you can do something for one another and of course as ever I am here for you.