blips….monday 26th march……

Right now I think I have the MOST boring life in existance…..

Boring things:

1. My job

2. My boyfriend and his messyness, his demanding culinary requirements and his general overall superior arogant attitude, that the world revolves around HIM….

3. My health

Boring as it is, I had to see the GP today to get a batch of antibiotics that I have had before and give me terrible thumping heavy headaches ( and it also means that I can’t drink)…so for the next 10 days I am going to feel not only physically unwell, but mentally screwy too….( so what is new there then?)

4. My personal emails

Even those aren’t interesting. My friends ( bless ‘em) have no major drama for me to pass comment on, aren’t dating/shagging anyone interesting, and have no advice for the funk that I find myself in

Hence, my resorting to writing on my blog, which no-one has ever read, ‘cos it isn’t interesting enough yet.

Career versus ’staying well’

I have read with interest a few blogs about people who are like-minded ( I mean, people with bipolar) and I am always impressed at the way they manage to describe themselves and their surroundings. I feel that presently my blog may well read like a ‘Janet and John’ episode and if so, I do apologise.

Career, earning loads of money, working 12 and 14 hour days, travelling, expense accounts, laptops and constant busy-ness is no longer allowed. I now have to take comfort in the fact that I can at least, when well, work, but I am no longer ‘allowed’ to have a career. Seems that these things cause me stress, which makes me ‘ill’. Whilst hypomanic, I was incredibly successfull, highly effective (and not all of this is my ego, there are some tangable results to prove it was so), however, I would then suffer with bouts of depression, sleep problems and general ‘burn-out’. I used to think that everyone got that……..and it was normal……apparently not.

So, no career, which, gives you not much direction, and lack of direction gives you a lack of motivation…….what happens?, it makes you depressed.

So, I say congratulations to those of you out there ( and there is 1 in every 100 people) who are managing a career with your mental interesting-ness. But I swear, if someone says to me ‘ oh, well, look at Stephen Fry, HE manages to go on television and ALL SORTS’……I think I will scream………

grasping technology when your brain is melting…….

is like herding cats, and as this is a new blog and the whole concept is something new for me, I am finding it hard to handle…..could be the medication that is making my mind flit around and therefore hard to concentrate, or it could be the shear, unadulterated boredom that I currently feel about my present work/job.

Used to be quite successful ( well, financially) until THE BIG CRASH and then have found myself either totally unemployable for long periods of depression or with a brain that resembles jelly, wobbly, flabby with no real substance or purpose. So now, am employed in a very junior clerical position, earning a very little money compared to what I used to, and initially, it does wound your pride. Whilst I hide behind my anonimity here in cyberspace, I am ‘outed’ here with my employers. Two reasons for that: 1) they proclaim to be an equal opps employer ( so I thought I would tough it out and tell them when I applied) and 2) I didn’ t really believe that they would hire me! So, joys of joys, I am one of the ‘official’ people for their registers of ‘people-who-we-hire-and-do-so-in-spite- of- their- disability’.

Worthy people aren’t they? aren’t I LUCKY (my mother informs me when she makes her weekly call), to be ‘in your position and to be earning money and they are SO kind to you’. Bless, my mum and her ideas that people are actually hiring me to do a job because they want to be nice to me, not the fact that there is a law against discrimination…….you gotta laugh……

come and get your takeaway mental illness!

 

Risk assessment…..along came Polly

Here I refer to the showing of the film staring Ben Stiller and Jenifer Aniston and their wacky relationship…..a breath of fresh air it was watching that last night. The character of Polly was one of reckless abandon ( not unlike people in the grip of a hypomanic episode) and happiness, and it reminded me of days gone by when I used to be like that. That was BEFORE someone told me that the way I behaved was not normal and that I was mentally ill.
Maybe it was the little things that gave it away, the late nights spent drinking to oblivion with any workmates that I could find, desperate for company, desperate to use up some energy and desperately looking for attention, any attention, just to feel valid. Maybe it was the continous slew of young men (some of them so young they were only just legal!) that trolled up the stairs to my flat night after night to try to satiate my overwhelming sexual urges. Maybe it was the sneeky ‘cat naps’ that I would take underneath my friends chair in the office, the always coming in late, hungover, irritable and dressed like a hooker. Maybe it was the fact that every guy I got involved in suddenly became a huge focus in my life and that if I had a relationship I thought I would feel better, instead of the incredible aching loneliness that I felt.
I am embarrased to say that I pretty much stalked one unfortunate guy, to the point that I was texting and calling like a ‘woman possessed’ . The crazy thing is, I wasn’t really into him, I was into the whole idea of being in a relationship, and he happened to be the poor unfortunate that my eggs rested on, and my legs wrapped round for a short spell.

Crash, bang, wallup, what a mess!
I decided I needed a holiday, I was in the throws of mania and I had stuff to do!! So I went to see my friend in Madrid and took another guy( french, as it happens) that I was conquesting with me.
My inflated idea of grandiosity believed that he would be putty in my hands, he would woo me and we would have a very romantic weekend.
I must have possessed a wild and strange look and some wierd behaviour, as on our first night in Madrid, he proclaimed ‘ I am sorry, I cannot do this’ in his thick parisian accent.
I spent the next 7 hours crying hysterically into my pillow. I didn’t sleep. He, being male, and french, so possessing a barrel of arrogance, slept.
The next day I was in shreds, and the day after, until we returned back to London, I got drunk on the plane ( we were travelling business class and I caned the champagne), and then got into a taxi and called one of my friends ( male), who suggested I come over so that he could console me.
Which he did. Console me, that is. And the other thing.

No blame
The guys that I beetled towards had no idea, they just thought that I was ‘hot’ for them, so they automatically gave them what it was that they percieved I wanted. 

 

Purpose of blog:

to enlighten and inform the uneducated public of what it is like living with manic depression, and thereby reduce stigma.

Scope:

The aim is to produce a regular synopsis of life from the perspective of a 36 year old divorcee, diagnosed with bipolar disorder since 2003 and the adventures that come her way. Comments are welcome and, indeed, encouraged from other ‘mentally interesting’ people and also to include some *facts* from various sources about bipolar disorder.

Posted by fruitebun at 04:00 0 comments