I used to be so much better at dealing with my bad thoughts, at channeling them into something. I used to know how to help myself. How to drag myself up out of the darkness.
Why’d it all have to change?
The worst part is people who say “You don’t seem bipolar” and don’t realize how that hurts. Which it shouldn’t, but it does somehow. I suppose it hurts because I know myself and what I’m going through and how dare they suggest that I don’t?
I’m sorry I’m not the kind of bipolar you’ve seen in movies. I’m sorry I don’t tell you how down I am 99% of the time and then when I’m up the other 1%. You aren’t me, you don’t know what I’m experiencing because I have difficulty putting it into words.
I had the depression thing pretty well figured out after seven years. It had become familiar to me, almost like an old friend. I knew how to deal with it most days, was able to pull myself out of my circling thoughts a lot of the time. But this, this is brand new and terrifying. Nothing is working and now I get to try however many new meds it takes before something works and maybe then I’ll feel some semblance of normal again.
But for now I’m stuck in a loop of how much I hate myself and how worthless I am and now, with this new thing, nobody seems to be able to help or make me feel better. That is the scariest part. My mom has always been able to comfort me in my worst moments but even she can’t make this go away.
Suicide and committing myself are on my mind daily. Little things feel big and monstrous and make me want to cry. I feel like most people don’t really like me and talk behind my back. Then there’s the irritation. Little things that piss me off and make me want to yell at my coworkers or quit my job.
I’m just so hopeless. More than I’ve ever been. I have zero motivation to do anything but sleep and even that is hard because of my fucked up dreams.
Most days, I just don’t want to be alive anymore.