I describe my heaviest time, the time when my illness was most severe. A
time when full blown mania struck and lifted me to euphoria, a state in
which I felt like I was touching clouds. An activation is how I
remember, my senses reaching a level like...
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I describe my heaviest time, the time when my illness was most severe. A
time when full blown mania struck and lifted me to euphoria, a state in
which I felt like I was touching clouds. An activation is how I
remember, my senses reaching a level like never before. At the same time
there was a fierceness to my being that is hard to accept. Suddenly, out
of no where I feel forced by something, compelled to accomplish things
in an absurd style, like an urgency but I don't understand who or what
is pushing this urgency. Mental illness is pushing me, Manic depressive,
Bipolar. I welcome guests into my home and entertain with a new baby on
very little sleep, charged up and ready, ready for what though? At the
time I never asked myself this, it was like my state wasn't apparent. I
somehow know though to 'cover up' to people how little sleep I'm having
with a new baby, cover up that I've been up most of the night inbetween
feeds sorting out what I know later as unnecessary items in the fridge,
cupboards, ferociously running about in a state. My euphoria keeps me
feeling looked after, like the energy provides a wholesome state of
being, it's beautiful in a sense. Little do I know the drop down from
this height will be the biggest drop I've ever experienced. I awake with
feelings saturating me, feelings of absolute guilt. Guilt in extreme
that I deserve punishment, I'm caught in my own brain and no one around
me see's it. They see a new mum coping with a well looked after bub,
impeccable house and clean washing. No one knows this mum is a tortured
soul underneath. I go into the back yard and sit in the winter sun. I'm
unable to wan't guests anymore, the once excited entertainer has lost
her capability. I just want my baby boy and I and try will all my might
to keep up appearances when people still visit. I'm compelled to wear
the same pants, the same shirt, it's like the illness wont let me change
them for days on end, something takes away my personal appearance. But
as time goes by the clothing becomes a habit, some force keeps me. I
have no energy, lethargy is like no other time in my life. I've become
homebound, exhausted and trapped venturing out only to health visits.One
day I decide to make the easiest dish, spaghetti for my husband and I.
For some reason my brain can't cope. I cant put it together. Depressive
side has won. My mind starts giving messages that I'm linked to fraud
somehow. I start calling lawyers. This illness, cruel.
How do I talk to my doctor?
