Last night I did something I never really thought I would do.
Yesterday was a bad day. And for me, bad days are days where literally every two hours my mood changes. It’s exhausting and unsettling, and I spend roughly 50% of the day trying (and usually failing) to function and the other 50% playing catch up so I don’t fall behind.
Thankfully, I also had therapy last night. My therapist (I’ll say her name is Sara) is a gem. She’s honest, can read me like a book, and knows when and when not to push me. She can suggest things and all I have to do is look at her and she knows when I think she’s nuts. Best part is she gets my sense of humor. It’s not uncommon that we spend roughly 80% of a session laughing.
That was last night. Normally laughing helps. This time it didn’t. I was frustrated beyond belief. The last two weeks have been the roller coaster from hell. Right now we are basically at a stand still until we can work out some more of this medicine crap. We have worked through a lot of shit. We have worked through so much shit that we are running out of shit to work through. Seriously. I’m still a mess, but its a result of the mood swings, not because I have unresolved issues. The biggest issue I have right now is the frustration of bipolar.
I’m frustrated because I can’t fix it. I’m frustrated because I can’t fit anything I’m experiencing into a box. I’m frustrated because absolutely nothing I experience is consistent. I’m constantly having different experiences, and it seems every week I have to find a new way to cope with my brain. Every week I have to start all over convincing myself that this is real. It gives me a whole new appreciation of the saying “It’s like nailing Jello to a wall.” I can’t win.
Last night, for the first time since August when I started seeing Sara, I left therapy still frustrated–despite laughing almost the whole time. I wasn’t feeling any better than when I walked in.
I sat on the floor, hugging my knees, completely and totally stuck in my head. I wanted a hug. I wanted someone to tell me that yes, this really does suck. I wanted answers. I was all kinds of not OK.
I remember seeing on the internet somewhere a crisis text line.
I don’t need to do that. I don’t feel suicidal, surprisingly. I’m not in a crisis.
I sat there some more. I started to have a panic attack.
It’s just a panic attack. Nothing new. I’m not in a crisis.
I sat there a little longer.
I’m confused. I don’t understand any of this.
I started questioning what was real.
Then I realized, if I didn’t do something I would be in a crisis. I know myself. I would have laid awake in bed miserable, and my mind would have spiraled into every negative direction it could think of. And then I would be terrified.
Maybe I can stop this.
So I sent the text.
Best use of 20 minutes in my life. Here’s the website: http://www.crisistextline.org/