I’m not sure how describe this. This is partially a vent. I’ll probably just delete this and feel embarrassed in ten minutes.
My bipolar is much more depression than manic; very, very low and stubborn depression with occasional manic/hypomanic states. (Let me preface I’m also ADHD, have PTSD thanks to abuse and an have an acute anxiety disorder).
So, I moved to Georgia a year ago for a promotion and I’m up for another one. I fucking hate it here. I was forced to go without treatment for about seven months (insurance/doctor problems; including the first doctor thinking I was just depressed, despite me telling him I was bipolar. He prescribed antidepressants which was like pouring gas onto the fire) and I’ve watched a forest fire burn through my life and destroy nearly everything. There are some weeks in there I don’t have memory of. I did things, went to work, took care of the dogs, I just don’t remember it. I lost eighty pounds in four months. I stopped eating completely and spent my off hours pacing until my legs burned and my back spasmed. Lots and lots of compulsive behavior I thought I’d conquered re-emerged. I just wanted to feel in control of something.
Credit, relationships, everything is burned to the ground. I have never, ever been broken by anything; abuse couldn’t do it, boot camp couldn’t do it, being discharged after my first full psychotic episode wasn’t enough, not even divorce. This last year broke me. It. Broke. Me.
I used to be a backcountry backpacker. I’ve hiked on glaciers, volcanoes, deep into empty places. Deserts, mountains, swamps. I love the forest and even that is a step too far often. I never had problems meeting friends and keeping friends. I don’t like crowds and loud places, but that’s a given. I had relationships and women who loved me, even when I didn’t deserve it. The friends I did have here are all gone. I go days sometimes without speaking to anyone. I’m naturally an introvert, but not a hermit. The silence hurts my ears sometimes. It aches, but I can’t stand being around people.
I used to paint, write, play a few instruments, had all sorts of projects and ideas always going on. I feel too empty to create now. Everything looks monochrome and dull. The color drained out of my world. It’s just blackened stumps and charred limbs.
I started at my current company nine years ago and started at the very bottom and moved up from there. Then I moved and it began burning down around me.
At work I am an analyst and I am shocked I held this job (as is pretty much everyone left in my life). I work from home half the week and that helps. It is one of the few things I hung onto by my finger nails and because my bosses are understanding and for that and for the people who held my hand and didn’t abandon me through this I am grateful. But despite that, I’m fine at work because there are always things to analyze, problems to solve. I hate being there, but hate coming home too.
I am down to a handful of friends, none of which live here and the longer I stay inside my safe apartment the harder it is for me to relate with others and leave. And I can’t stand being here either. I’ve always had this gene deep restlessness and in the past that’s driven me to travel, or go explore empty places like I did as a kid.
I started learning a new martial art to get me out of the house. And even just passed my first belt test. I’ve learned other forms, but its a catch 22, I don’t want to leave and I cannot stand being here. I had dealt with it by smoking, but quit to give the meds a chance. (trazodone, lamictal, clonazepam, seroquel). I asked the doctor to give me a dissociative, or a highly sedative drug for when I come home, but she didn’t.
I take the dogs out but leave the minute I run into other people.
I’m doing better and much more like my “plain ol zen self,” as a friend who ended up moving in with me when it was really bad told me today (she lives in DC).
I still feel stuck in my bed and I fucking hate it while I watch others go about their life. I hate it here, but I haven’t given it a chance either (I am saving for a move more suited to my interests, like Colorado or Oregon/Washington etc, but thanks to everything going to shit that may never happen and I feel stuck and that makes me feel panicked.)
I lived in places I dislike before and made the best of it, but I just feel too wounded for anything like that, everything feels like sandpaper run over my soul.
It’s been suggested I get out and date, but who could love me as broken as I am?
I guess I’m not sure what to do and I still feel too broken to fix anything. Can anyone relate? Please?
Submitted August 27, 2018 at 04:33AM by Mattandsuch https://ift.tt/2NlV4mA
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