Sometimes It Is Me

I admit that my feelings spin out of control. I snowball down a great big hill collecting sticks and stones that hurt me along the way. I know I do this. Stopping this behavior is something different. I can tell you how many Doctors and Therapists I’ve had if you want a number. I can tell you how many I went to that never picked up on the fact I am Bipolar even when the symptoms, as I look back, were like neon signs. I know hindsight is 20/20. But come on. None of them asked about my spending habits, sex, how I saw myself in social situations, if I was ever impulsive, if people sometimes questioned my energy or talking too fast or too much. Nope. They all continued to ask about sexual abuse and that was it. Through the years as things continued to get worse I would look from time to time for a group or therapist. I never found one. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I knew something was.

It hurt me immensely to know that my sister has been going to a support group for people with family members who are mentally ill. I still can’t find anyone. In Rhode Island they lump All Mentally Ill people together. So there are high functioning and low functioning. And some even have no function. They also consider people in detox to be part of the equation. Even when you are hospitalized they mix the mentally ill with the patients who are detoxing. When I was forced to stay at one Hospital for 4 days after ECT I was also forced to go to AA meetings. I had been sober 4 years at that point and for reasons of my own do not agree with AA. You had to go twice a day. I was told if I didn’t go I would have to stay in the hospital longer. I finally gave in when I found out the people who came volunteered to come when they could be home or with their families. They were mostly older men and Veterans. I’m glad I went because it was it was the only kindness I received.

I’m saying the same the same thing over and over and no one is listening. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t wake up and think “I would like to cry all day or feel like I want bash my head into a wall”. I would like to be some kind of happy but there is always this weight on my chest, this pain, a knot in my stomach, a feeling of being lost in a crowd. It never ends until I sleep. At the end of July I have to go under anesthesia and sometimes I wish I could stay there for a little while. It’s quiet, a bright light, sometimes I see my mom, sometimes I’m at the beach. I have to be careful because the last two times they had trouble bringing me out of the anesthesia. They called my Psychiatrist and he told him it was Catatonia due to the Conversion Disorder. I told them I have Conversion Disorder a million times but no one listens or they think it isn’t real.

I have hurt people recently. I’ve had a short temper and said things in fear and anger. I usually don’t say anything. I just swallow whatever I want to say down. I think I’ve been doing this for too long and now I’m lashing out. You get tired of being dumped on and never saying anything. But when I do finally say something I get in trouble and it’s because I’m Bipolar and need help. I’m really confused what it really is. Is it Mental Illness or I am realizing I’m a 43 year old woman who has been stepped on enough and doesn’t have to be anymore? I know some things were above and beyond but most were not. I’ll continue to search for help and a healthy outlet for anger.

About darie73

I have lived with Bipolar Disorder since my early teens. I have lived with Social Anxiety Disorder for even longer. I self-medicated with alcohol for over 20 years, that's how long it took to get a diagnosis. I'm open and honest about my mental health so hopefully one day the system will change. View all posts by darie73

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