At some point over the last week my mind has ground from the steady hum of excitement for the future, to a dull mush of nothingness. Everything was going fine, I signed off a recent blog post cheerfully with my up and coming plans, now they are all turned down and beige with a side order of anxiety.
The coin flips fast, although this is the first time I have been fully aware of it happening. Over the last few months I have heard the phrase “early warning signs” repeated to me over and over by various health professionals, that I guess the lesson of looking out for them must have finally sunk in. I see my rhythms more clearly now, yet I still feel powerless to stop them.
Although it is a comfort that each bought I survive I become more self aware, I am still at the mercy of my moods. What use is this new found understanding if I can’t practically apply it to lift myself up.
I guess it’s fill your boots when you are high, and batten down the hatches when you are low. I can’t settle for that existence, not now that I am taking on water, so I try and think my way off of the sinking ship.
I am a scientist by training, a problem solver (and apparently now a wannabe writer :p). I analyse why I feel this way, rather than just let it happen. What could I have done differently? What got me out of it last time? . . . Time. . . Time is always the answer. You have to see out the storm. I made hay while the sun was shining and now its winter in my mind.
I just want to stay in bed for days and hibernate under my duvet till spring. I know that’s not the answer though. I need to put one foot in front of the other and plod on. The momentum will come on its own accord. I have made an appointment for tomorrow morning so I don’t lay in bed and decompose.
I am writing this rather than napping (which I could easily do in this lovely warm jumper). I enjoy writing and know I just need to carry on doing things I enjoy. I feel guilty about that. I’m twenty six, yet I feel like I am living the life of Peterpan. I should not be off work doing things I find fun in my bedroom. I should be out earning my millions, pumping tax payments in to the governments coffers to support me when I am old and decrepit. I’m not supposed to be falling to pieces now, we save that for when we are old and in ruins.
So how did I end up in a ditch again? I had my manic high and was completely aware it was happening. Even as I type now, I am increasing in velocity thinking about it. Every idea was golden, and I had the energy to achieve every hare-brained scheme. I went on a manic shopping spree and bought myself more tweed jackets, bright t shirts and shiny new belt buckles. Nobody was moving or talking fast enough for me. Why don’t others have the urgency to move onwards and upwards? Mindless chitter chatter is like potholes in my way as I reach eighty eight miles per hour and zoom back to the future!
I didn’t need a Flux Capacitor like the Docs DeLoren, I had my own potential energy stored up from my last crash and now it was powering me through the time jump everything in vision became a blur.
I was prescribed Olanzapine to slow my thoughts and ground me back to reality. Boing . . . thoughts start to slow. Snap . . . I’m not magical Doc Brown. Crash . . . welcome to the real world. Collapse . . . you are in debt with the energy bank and they are here to collect their outstanding payment. Crap.
My brain is my only asset and I need that to work out what the hell is going on. Back in real life I start to think deeply, and begin to spiral down. Socrates ain’t got shit on me, when it comes to overthinking.
I’d give anything to have that high back now, but I keep taking the antipsychotics as I have learned to respect the Doctors decisions. I’d love to get out of my face drunk but together with the pills I may drowse into a coma.
There is no escaping this reality, and as writing is helping, I’m sure my thoughts and philosophy on this world will make my next post.
The coin flips fast, although this is the first time I have been fully aware of it happening. Over the last few months I have heard the phrase “early warning signs” repeated to me over and over by various health professionals, that I guess the lesson of looking out for them must have finally sunk in. I see my rhythms more clearly now, yet I still feel powerless to stop them.
Although it is a comfort that each bought I survive I become more self aware, I am still at the mercy of my moods. What use is this new found understanding if I can’t practically apply it to lift myself up.
I guess it’s fill your boots when you are high, and batten down the hatches when you are low. I can’t settle for that existence, not now that I am taking on water, so I try and think my way off of the sinking ship.
I am a scientist by training, a problem solver (and apparently now a wannabe writer :p). I analyse why I feel this way, rather than just let it happen. What could I have done differently? What got me out of it last time? . . . Time. . . Time is always the answer. You have to see out the storm. I made hay while the sun was shining and now its winter in my mind.
I just want to stay in bed for days and hibernate under my duvet till spring. I know that’s not the answer though. I need to put one foot in front of the other and plod on. The momentum will come on its own accord. I have made an appointment for tomorrow morning so I don’t lay in bed and decompose.
I am writing this rather than napping (which I could easily do in this lovely warm jumper). I enjoy writing and know I just need to carry on doing things I enjoy. I feel guilty about that. I’m twenty six, yet I feel like I am living the life of Peterpan. I should not be off work doing things I find fun in my bedroom. I should be out earning my millions, pumping tax payments in to the governments coffers to support me when I am old and decrepit. I’m not supposed to be falling to pieces now, we save that for when we are old and in ruins.
So how did I end up in a ditch again? I had my manic high and was completely aware it was happening. Even as I type now, I am increasing in velocity thinking about it. Every idea was golden, and I had the energy to achieve every hare-brained scheme. I went on a manic shopping spree and bought myself more tweed jackets, bright t shirts and shiny new belt buckles. Nobody was moving or talking fast enough for me. Why don’t others have the urgency to move onwards and upwards? Mindless chitter chatter is like potholes in my way as I reach eighty eight miles per hour and zoom back to the future!
I didn’t need a Flux Capacitor like the Docs DeLoren, I had my own potential energy stored up from my last crash and now it was powering me through the time jump everything in vision became a blur.
I was prescribed Olanzapine to slow my thoughts and ground me back to reality. Boing . . . thoughts start to slow. Snap . . . I’m not magical Doc Brown. Crash . . . welcome to the real world. Collapse . . . you are in debt with the energy bank and they are here to collect their outstanding payment. Crap.
My brain is my only asset and I need that to work out what the hell is going on. Back in real life I start to think deeply, and begin to spiral down. Socrates ain’t got shit on me, when it comes to overthinking.
I’d give anything to have that high back now, but I keep taking the antipsychotics as I have learned to respect the Doctors decisions. I’d love to get out of my face drunk but together with the pills I may drowse into a coma.
There is no escaping this reality, and as writing is helping, I’m sure my thoughts and philosophy on this world will make my next post.
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