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Get the picture?

Yep. Sorry, one of those utterly boring posts about being depressed. Mind you, you don’t have to read it. I’m writing it for my benefit, so sod off if you don’t want to read it. I don’t care.

No, really I don’t.

I was in bed for over an hour but couldn’t sleep. Not surprising; been sleeping (well dozing actually) most of the week, on and off.

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After a ten day up - about as good as it gets - I went done again on Tuesday and have done sod all since.

Not that I haven’t wanted to do anything or needed to in fact, just that I haven’t been able to. I’ve had a passive week, rather than an active week. A passive, ‘I’ll watch the shopping channel cause I can’t be arsed to get up and find something else to watch’ week rather than an active ‘I’ve got stuff to write, places to go, people to see, work to prepare, homework to do, a life to live’ week.

Shit happens.

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Want to know the some total of Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. No really, it’s mega exciting! You’ll be bowled over at how exciting my week was!

• Tuesday - wrote a post about my meeting with my psychiatrist on Monday afternoon, but gave up half way through and never got round to posting it. Went for a lie down instead.
• Wednesday - finally at about 11pm, having done sweet FA all day managed to write an email and send it. An important one that should have been done at the beginning of the week. Who knows if they got it in time or not.
• Thursday - renewed my library books online and half managed my homework for my Nuffield writers group, then caught the latest possible train to Southampton (I won’t mention the very eerie moment when I realised how bloody fast those trains go through Woking station on platform two when they don’t stop on their way to waterloo - oh and how I know now exactly what time they do. Frightens the shit out of me!)
• Friday - Took Rich and his parents on a planned trip to Osterley Park in Isleworth, Middlesex (National Trust). Whoopee. Took me all morning to wake up enough to get there and then wore myself out walking about and had to sit on my own listening to my echo (4 seconds - count them, its a long time for an echo) in the stone-summer-house-thingy-do-da-wotsit while Rich and co had a walk round the gardens. I love big old houses and this was a particularly good example - just a shit that I felt so depressed and couldn’t enjoy it. Rich and his parents did, so that was okay I guess.
• Saturday - er, fuck all actually, though I did manage to tape the six episodes of ‘Whose Line Is It Anyway?’ on FiveUS.

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So that was my week. Add to that rather a lot of sleeping (dozing), hardly any eating, and few frustrating tears. Yes, I cry when I’m down too. No particular reason, other than being sad… for no particular reason.

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Apart from Richard’s parents, I haven’t spoken to or seen anybody I really know since Monday. (Though I suppose I should include those people in my Nuffield writing group since I see them for two hours every fortnight, though not socially since it’s like going to a class in college.)

I spent Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday in the house mostly wandering from the bedroom to the kitchen and back to the bedroom again. And nobody has called or emailed or texted. Mind you, I haven’t called or emailed or texted them either.

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I keep telling myself it ain’t that bad. Keep saying I’ll go back up again and all will be well - for a few days anyway. And if I’m honest I live for that. But when I’m down it’s hard: Fucking hell actually, but unless you have experienced a depressive episode where you strongly believe the only way out is - well you know - you wont know what the fuck I’m talking about.

And do I care a shit anyway?

Nope.

My blog; I can write what I like.

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Thank God for Richard.

My rock.

You see, Rich is one of those people who stays at about a 5 all the time. Rarely he’ll go up to a 6 and even more rarely down to a 4 but that’s about it.

I’ve only ever seen him cry once in the twelve and a half years we’ve been together and that was when I was so high I hadn’t slept for a week and had actually worked out a way to spend the rest of our life living it up in luxurious hotels all over the world.

I was showing him my driving licence and my passport and told him that was the only two things I would ever need. I had worked the whole thing out from start to finish and had spent 48 hours planning every minute detail.

I scared the shit out of him and he broke down in tears because he’d thought he’d lost the real me for good. I still remember the look on his face and never want to see it again.

Being manic like that is actually worse than being morbidly depressed because when you are manic you can hurt a heck of a lot of people without realising what you are doing.

Driving very fast in a BMW, cause you think you’re superman and no harm can come to you, is one of those experiences I wish I had never had. I dread to think how many pile ups I could have caused.

When depressed you can only (really) hurt yourself (and your loved ones.)

Luckily for me, I don’t get to a manic 10 (full blown mania) on that wonderful scale. I only go from 0 to a 7/8 (called hypomania) hence my diagnosis of Bipolar Type II. (Type I means going from 0 to 10) The mania I did experience was brought on by a particular type of anti-depressant which had a rather alarming effect.

So what goes wrong with BiPolar?

• Crying - You cry with joy when you are manic: The slightest emotional moment will set you off. And you’ll cry lots when you’re depressed too. I’ve often just sat alone in the chair in the sitting room with tears rolling down my cheeks for absolutely no reason at all other than feeling totally helpless and lost.
• Sleeping - Not when you’re manic: Sleep? I haven’t got time for sleep! I have all this thinking and planning and stuff to do. How am I going to save the planet from destruction if I have to sleep? And then far too much when you’re depressed - though its actually just dozing and not proper sleep. Bored out of your skull - Oh, I’ll just go and have a lie down then I don’t have to think about how depressing my life is. That way I can go to sleep and just dream about killing myself instead of having to actually do it.
• Eating - not much when you are manic. No time - you’re brain’s too busy thinking and what do you need food for anyway, when did you last see Superman have something to eat? And, not surprisingly, when you’re depressed too because you have no appetite and preparing food is such hard work.
• Thinking - When you are manic loads and loads. The thoughts come so fast they trip over themselves but then they slow right down and almost stop when you are depressed, leaving only one thought and I don’t need to tell you what that one is.
• Oh, and sex? - Yep. You’ve guessed it, none when you are depressed. What the hell is sex? and then you want it loads and loads when you are manic: you want it with anyone and anything and all at the same time, all the time - if only you could get it!

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Okay, so I go up and down. Up and down with no actual time to be normal. I’m either on the way up to a 7/8, up at 7/8, on the way down to 1/0, or down at 1/0.

Don’t actually get a period of stability where I’m at a 5 for any length of time. (A day maybe?) Now, if I did have a 5 for any length of time and I had at least four episodes (an episode being an up or a down) in any twelve month period I’d be classed as a rapid-cycler - and I don’t mean riding a bike very fast.

Oh, but, I’m up and down every bloody month!

Which means I’m an ultra-rapid-cycler. (Could be worse: could be an ultra-ultra-rapid-cycler - up and down in 48 hours or less.)

Now I’ve completely bored the pants off of you, I’ll shut up. (Can’t think why you’re still reading - I did warn you!)

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Actually, I hadn’t intended this to be a lesson on being bipolar, but hey, what the fuck, I feel better for having had a rant, and it’s my blog, so there.

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Shit really.

Should be in bed and asleep but it’s gone half two on Sunday morning and I’m typing away because I’m lonely and lost and feeling like crap.

Should be feeling great since I’m back at Riverside Youth Theatre tomorrow.

Should be thinking: Hey this is great! I get to do the thing I love most in the world. (Second only to Richard.) I get to work with young people who want to experience and enjoy theatre and acting and stuff!

In fact I should be more happy than usual because for the next six Sunday’s yours truly is running a workshop on Improvisation; something I’ve loved since I learnt it a school.

Except that I’m depressed and feel like I want to curl up in a heap and hide away in the corner of a dark room somewhere because I’m convinced I’m utterly useless.

What’s worse is that I should have planned my four hour workshop for the 20 or so young actors tomorrow (actually 11 hours time), but apart from writing three lines on a piece of paper on Wednesday, I’ve haven’t been able to do a thing.

All week I’ve been telling myself:I’ll feel better tomorrow; I’ll be back up again and I’ll have the energy, motivation and brain power I need to work it all out.

I know what I should be doing. I love it so much, I could probably do it standing on my head, but I have zero confidence in myself right now and on top of that I’m shit scared of cocking it all up tomorrow. And it sure don’t help when you don’t have a plan to fall back on.

I feel guilty and bad about it.

Other times when I’ve been there and been depressed and done warm-ups and stuff with out any planning, I’ve just winged it and hoped no one noticed. (Did a juggling session once - only cause I couldn’t get the brain working to do anything serious and useful. I had some juggling balls and someone started trying to juggle with them, so I just went on autopilot for an hour and taught most of them to juggle.)

This six week summer workshop was organised a couple of months ago now, and although it’s slightly changed from its original concept, I planned to plan it all this week.

When I eventually wake up it’ll be Sunday again and I’ll have until about 1pm to plan the rest of the afternoon - and planning for me in my current mental state will mean mega stress.

Such a shit when I really do enjoy all this youth theatre stuff.

I’ll do it. I have to. I have to because I want to, and I want to because I love it really. It’s just that when I’m down I can’t get any enjoyment from it.

Oh, I’ll smile and laugh and pretend that I’m really enjoying it and I really want to, but all those happy little chemical things that should be buzzing about in my head and having a really great time will just be sat there screaming Loser!

And to think that three weeks ago I drove all the way to Bognor Regis to get a book out of the library that I couldn’t find anywhere else, just so I could plan a decent workshop.

I should have spent this week delving into it, pulling out the nuggets so I can make sure these young actors have a really great time and develop their improvisational skills.

Instead I’ve done fuck all and it hurts.

I just pray that I can pull something out of the hat tomorrow morning and get something together that won’t make me look like the complete and utterly stupid idiot and worthless please of shit that I feel I am right now.

Ho hum.

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Yep, well that’s about it. Just a done a word count and I’m well over the two and a half thousand mark which means it’s about time I shut the fuck up and went to bed.

God I hate this shit.

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Oh, and that up down up down, round and round stuff?

That’s my life: Up down up down, round and round. I’m stuck on a wooden horse in the fairground going up and down, up and down, and all the while round and round, round and round; never getting anywhere in life.

All around me everyone else is having a great time and I’m just waiting and praying I can get off this sodding not-so-merry-go-round and have a someway decent life like most of the rest of the population.

I’ll reach the big four-oh on December the first. They say life begins at forty. Well I fucking well hope so because if this up down up down, round and round shit is all I’ve got to look forward to, then I won’t be hanging round for another forty, I can assure you!

Oh well, as depressing as this post has been, at least I know I’ll be reading it in a few days time when I’m up again and I can laugh at how stupid it all sounds.

Welcome to my world.

Oh, and if you got this far, thanks for reading. You didn’t have to, but thanks anyway.

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This entry was posted on Sunday, May 25th, 2008 at 3:22 am and is filed under Bi-Polar II. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.