Well I didn’t make it to the bipolar/depression support group, because I was too scared to go. As usual, I forced myself to become a paranoid wreck- talking to myself out loud, muttering random things I caused my brain to spin out control; thoughts and sounds bounced around in my head, which eventually became bits of music that increased in volume and pushed me into a hole of despair, where a voice started talking (I don’t know if that was me thinking or if it was another person in my head)- telling me that if I went to the support group, I would be laughed at, ridiculed, belittled and forced to walk away in shame. The voice told me I could not leave…all I know is that I was confused, scared and fucking crazy. I was rocking back in forth in my chair, soaked in sweat and all I could think about was throwing up.
I just don’t understand myself; none of this is fucking rational!! I know that if I went to the support group, I would have a good time and most likely learn something new. But my brain just wouldn’t let me go. Every time I have to do something new, I end up making myself extremely paranoid and deeply sick. I don’t know how to break this cycle. The medication doesn’t work, the therapy hasn’t helped and talking with other people just makes the problem worse. I just want to fucking scream!!!! (more after pic)
As a result, I have been stuck in this fucking apartment, restrained by my anxiety and paranoia. I really want to get out and meet new people, but my brain just won’t let me. So my connection to the outside world is restricted to my laptop and the internet. In fact I’m a member of few forums, where I constantly talk to new people. Further, through this blog I met a woman who has become a very close and dear friend. Although we live on the opposite sides of US we have been texting on and off the last few years. But I am only able to do this, because I am hided behind my computer and phone.
It’s just not fucking rational.
I never used to be like this. In fact, when I was in high school I was extremely gregarious. I didn’t have many close friends, but I had dozens of acquaintances. By my senior year I knew almost everyone in my class (we had over 500 people in our class) as well as a bunch of the underclassmen. Everyday I shook people’s hands, talked with them and constantly met new people.
At that time I loved to talk, especially with strangers. This carried on into my college years and beyond. My first job when I graduated college, was as a union organizer (I worked for UNITE-HERE, the largest hotel union in the country), which required me to be in constant contact with new people. In fact, I was made into an underground organizer (union salt). I had to integrate myself into a hotel and help the union create a structure that would eventually lead to a strike. Not only was I a union organizer, I was also a night auditor (over night supervisor for the front desk.).
It was at this point my life changed. I became addicted to pain killers and I was constantly abused by my managers. It was both physical and psychological abuse that cause caused deep scars. I still have nightmares of those days.
*I want to pull back a second and apologize for this post becoming a confused mess. I didn’t know how this post was going to go and my life has been so frustrating that I just needed to get this out. Writing is the only way I can understand my problems*
For the next few years, I went from job to job, not knowing what I was going to do with my life. What made matters worse was that every job I went to, the boss would psychologically abuse me. I was told over and over and over and over again that I worthless. I was told that I could do nothing because I was a piece of shit. I was screamed at, I was made fun of, I was put down, I was degraded and I was destroyed. Unfortunately, abuse seemed to follow me and it got to a point that I began to believe I was worthless. All the self confidence that I had as a kid was destroyed. All the happiness that I enjoyed was taken away. By the time I ended up in the psych ward I was shell of myself. To make matters worse, my manic depression spiraled out of control and my addictions consumed me.
I had no future.
Luckily I was forced to go to the psych ward, because it helped turned my life around. It has been almost a year since I was committed and my depression and mania is under control. I see psychiatrist, a therapist and I go to a sobriety meeting once a week.
But I’m still not “stable.” Because of the abuse, I am still a shell of myself, trapped in this apartment. I hope that I can change; I hope I can overcome these problems and break free of these chains. But at the moment, all I can do is bask in the wondrous glory of anxiety, despair and paranoia. (more post after the pic)
If you are also chained by anxiety, ptsd, depression, mania, ocd etc I would love to hear your story. If you are able, please share them in the comment section. Your comments are the one thing that keeps me going, reminding me I am not alone in this fucked up journey.
I hope you are all well!