Archive for the ‘Crazyland’ Category

Claustrophobia

Saturday, September 2nd, 2017

When you have an anxiety disorder, every stressing situation goes to eleven and when you combine that with bipolar disorder, you get a brain that goes not only to eleven, but everything just happens to the power of twelve.

I’ve never thought I was claustrophobic. Turns out I apparently haven’t been in a tight enough space before. Put me in a tiny closet and close the door, no problem. Lifts, fine. Crowded places, no problem (except that i start hating people, but that’s not claustrophobia, it’s misantrophy). But this past Friday, I was supposed to be having a head MRI (nothing too dangerous that they’re looking for, worry not) and I was fine as fiddlesticks up until the point that they loaded me about halfway into the fucking donut. I told them to let me out and I took a moment and said ok, no worries, I’ll be fine, I’m just feeling a bit, you know, packed in. So I got to put my arms in a different position and in I went again. I closed my eyes and thought about nice things and then one of the nurses said this isn’t going to work, we need to pack you in a little tighter still. Apparently so I wouldn’t be able to move.

That’s when I started to feel really panicky, like there was still a bit of room to move and I was already being pulled out of the donut, but I felt my legs starting to twitch because the fucking loader wasn’t moving quick enough. Merely the thought of being packed even tighter made me panic. So I got out and said this isn’t gonna work. They didn’t even suggest booking another time and knocking me out with a sedative, they just ushered me away with ‘ok, this is not going to work then, go see the neurologist who booked you in’.

And out the door I was, in the dressing room, where I started to cry, because I was in hysterics and panicking because the claustrophobia and anxious because I immediately felt like I was a) a fucking snowflake and b) just wasting everyone’s precious time. Yes, sure, it’s a hospital, they have booked times and they’re not responsible for comforting me, I get that, but like they could’ve said something. Maybe say it’s ok, you’re not the only one who chickens out, it happens, and just maybe ask if I was fine. That would’ve taken them exactly zero extra time, since all that could’ve been said in the span of silence that went on for the half a minute it took me to get off the bed and walk to the dressing room door.

So I got dressed, went out to the hallway and had to sit down on the nearest bench on the main corridor of the hospital and cry for fifteen minutes, until I felt un-shaken enough to actually figure out what I had to do to get to the neurological department. In there, the service was infinitely better, the nice lady at the reception told me to take a seat and said it’s fine, it’s terrible for everyone and only most people can go through with it, not all. And she went to see the doctor to ask if it was necessary to take any kind of imaging of my brain (i told you, it’s nothing serious (at least that’s what they’ve told me haa-haa watch me crash and burn at this)) and she came back with a yes, but a CT-scan would suffice, even if it wasn’t as good. And she booked me in for that and booked a lab appointment for me as well, so wouldn’t have to do it on me own, as she clearly could see I was pretty shaken.

So I made it out, but in a shitty state. I couldn’t shake off the cloustrophobic feeling for hours, not for the whole day. I went home and made me an atomic strength cuppa, sat out on the porch, listening to the rain and just breathing in, but it still lingered. Up until the time I was going to sleep, where I couldn’t get to sleep for a good while.

I don’t know. It just feels so unfair that whenever something even slightly stressful happens, it wipes me out for a ridiculous amount of time and leaves me feeling invalid and inadequate and a waste of space.

Anxiety is truly a bitch.

The knot is slipping

Monday, June 12th, 2017

Depression is a fucking bastard. It leads you to not only thinking you’re shit, like a total and complete waste of space, but it also makes you gather every bit of the little strength and willpower you have left and put it in coping, instead of doing really anything. To top it off, if you consider yourself as a functioning depressed sack of shit, like I do, for reasons, keeping up appearances eats away even more of your resources.

So as much as I have been wanting to write and blog and make edits and learn how to make gifs, I’ve had to focus the little of me that is left into a few more pressing matters. Like eating, because you need more than a look inside the fridge to keep yourself fuelled. And by more I mean actual food items, with, you know, nutrients and shit and not just fuelled like with self-hatred and self-doubt. So yea, eating. And trying to appear alright infront of all the people that are tired of hearing my shit (read: everyone in the whole fucking world) and running.

I’ve been keeping up with my running schedule, because I’ve realised that might be the only thing keeping me from actually getting into a state where I would be hospitalized. Yes, it’s that bad. So for those sorts of reasons I’ve been a fucking slacker when it comes to blogging (i really like blogging, i like rambling on about stupid things and oversharing online, i mean yea, i live for this shit and i feel bad for not doing it) and many other things as well.

I’m feeling the tiniest bits of better at the moment, I’m hoping this will be A Courseā„¢ for the time being and that I would be all good (for the moment) in a little while. I’m flying out to meet a friend this upcoming weekend and we’re just going to kick back and relax on Friday with maybe a beer or two (i don’t feel confident in drinking a lot). I’m having some anxiety-related issues with a small party-type of thing organized by my friend for Saturday, but I’m hoping I can like maybe escape to a dark corner if it gets to be too much. Then it’s going to be Midsummer feast on the next weekend and I’m doing fuck-all with the fam, so yay for that. And then it’s off to London for a long weekend with husband unit.

So yea, I’m still alive (oh -you, don’t sound so disappointed -me) and even if I was a bit unwell, I’m sort of getting better.

No

Sunday, March 12th, 2017

I’m so fucking tired it’s not even funny anymore. My head feels like there’s permanent disc defrag going on, it’s been like this for pretty much all of this year. And you know what?

((( DEFRAG INTENSIFIES )))

I’m just… I’m so ready to jump into a lake of fire.

I have tons of essays for school to write, I still have time, but not too much, considering the amount of work there is to be done. I have exams coming up and I literally can’t be arsed to do anything about any of them, because there are so many much more important and pressing things to be excited about. I’m just so tired of my own shit that it’s not even funny in any sort of way.

Fuck this brain, fuck this illness, fuck mania and particularly fuck everything.

Borderline

Tuesday, January 10th, 2017

I was going to be very productive and all with this blog, starting the first of January, but look how that’s gone. I’m blaming my moods again. I know I’m turning to mania again, becacuse obvious fucking signs. I’m annoyed at everything, I hate my life being stuck and I’m obsessing very badly over a celebrity. I wouldn’t be sleeping if it wasn’t for supplements.

So this is what my life is at the moment: I had a hissy fit yesterday to basically the whole world, because U2 announced The Joshua Tree 30 year anniversary tour and I can’t go, because they play like ten shows in Europe and none of them are even close to Finland. It’s not even my favourite album or anything, but I just… And I wanted to see Assassin’s Creed, but it seemed they’re not showing it anymore. (well they are, the news just in, buddy boy, so all that rage for nothing) and I was so fucking pissed off at that too.

So I had a hissy fit and just sat infront of the computer the whole evening, watching Centurion on Netflix and eating what was left of my stash of chocolate.

I know I’m pathetic. I just wish I had a normal functioning fucking brain.

Anxiety

Tuesday, November 15th, 2016

It feels like I’m currently 100% stress and 0% person. I honestly think that school has triggered an anxiety disorder on top of my bipolar. So it’s basically piling up, the mental illness. What a fucking hoot.

I have a shrink appointment tomorrow and I’m going to bring up my concerns about this. I sure hope they take me seriously. I’ve been an anxiety-ridden mess for the past three weeks and I know it’s partly due to spiraling down to a depressive episode, but really, this is just ridiculous.

I’ve taken up meditation and I find it helps at least a bit. And I’ve managed to sleep pretty well too, which helps as well, but it’s just that I don’t get enough sleep. The quality of sleep has improved very much after ditching the looney pills, but it means I don’t fall asleep so easily. I’ve found that the meditation thing helps with that too, tho. And I’ve been taking melatonine a couple of nights too just to ease the process of falling asleep. It does make me a bit foggy in the mornings, so I don’t use it too often.

The problem is I wake up in the morning and the anxiety is there almost immediately, and I have again started to worry about my health, which surely is unfounded and just a symptom of the anxiety.

This is hell and I want this to stop.