So, I have been experiencing the dreaded “mixed” episode for about a month now. This one has been particularly bad. The last one I had that even comes close was 8 years ago. The main problem with the mixed episode is that you cannot medicate yourself out of it the same way that you can a psychotic or manic episode. Depressive episodes are a category all their own. I would gladly give a body part for this to go away. The main problem with the mixed episode is that you are stuck between mania and depression. Your sleep habits change, your eating habits change, your whole structured life is ruined; this helps the mania, but does little for the depression.
I am freaking annoyed and pissed off at people for no other reason than that they cannot seem to understand that I am trying as hard as I can just to survive this. Another one of my little tells that let me know where I am on the Richter scale: Am I listening to Alice in Chains? And…….wait for it……wait for it…….the answer is yes. My absolute all-time favorite I am pissed off at the world so I am going to listen to songs that are as angry as I am. Yes, I realize this is childish. But, so is contemplating the amount of medication I have at my disposal. No, I am not suicidal, so do not get your panties in a bunch. I am just exceedingly tired of feeling like this. I am tired of presenting the happy face to the world. I am tired of pretending that I am not really that sick so people will leave me alone, I am just tired. What a cliche ~ I am sick and tired. Except it is true. I am sick. I am tired. It takes a lot energy to appear as if you are in remission (because it never really goes away, now, does it?) or at least to appear to be functioning, and that you do not mind that everything about your life is fucked.
Yeah, I can pretty cheerfully say, “Oh, I really do not mind having no car in a city where public transportation is a joke” or “No, I don’t mind hauling 50 pounds of food on foot one mile to my apartment” and “No, I really don’t mind living on $6.00 an hour”. I can easily and believably say all this bullshit, because that is what it is. Bullshit comes easy to me. If I can make the head of Children’s Psychiatric services at the University Hospital here believe that I am okay and that I don’t need to see him anymore, and then turn around two weeks later and try to kill myself (I was 16, and it was my first serious attempt), then I can make anybody believe anything. This guy was supposed to be a professional. I also had convinced that I didn’t do drugs as I sat stoned in his office. Am I that good, or was he just that stupid?I think, personally, he was just that stupid, because I sure as hell am not that good.
And, I am tired and absolutely sick of people telling me I need to get a car, and a job. Well, people, if I had a normal fucking brain like the rest of the sheep on this planet who want nothing more than a 9 to 5 job, a house, 2.5 kids, and a dog, then maybe I wouldn’t get fired from every job I have ever held. I have been fired from a Temp agency. How the fuck do you accomplish that? How many people do you know that have been fired not just from the temp assignment, but from the agency itself? I mean, that takes skill. Serious skill.
How many people can honestly believe that I do not want to work? I have taken to talking to myself just to keep myself from going absolutely insane as opposed to the semi-sane state that I am currently in. Why can’t people see that? What is it that makes the people in my life so fucking blind that they can’t see that I am pretending to be well? I am not well. I am manic, I am depressed. Come on people, I don’t sense things the same way you do. My perception of emotion is fucked up. I don’t just have a bad day, I have bad years. I don’t have good days. I rise to heights that would scare tightrope walkers and I spend weeks there. And, somebody wants to employ that combination? What the fuck planet are you from? I do not even want to live that combination, but here I am, living it as successfully as I know how. Fuck you all…….get back to me when I am well…..or maybe when you are not operating under some delusion that I am just like everyone else. Everyone else does not see the world through a chemical cocktail designed to keep you as level as possible. Everyone else does not have wild, unpredictable mood swings. Everyone else is not addicted to anti-anxiety drugs that you take just to get through the day without having some form of panic attack. Everyone else is not on anti-psychotics that are supposed to keep you grounded to this planet, and wreak havoc on your body.
Come on, you fucking normal people, try to get a clue about the different people in this world and your life. I am sick of fucking “normal” people telling me what to do. Just because I look “normal” with my painted nails, made-up face, straightened hair, and well thought out clothing choices does not mean that I am anywhere near freaking “normal”. I am just a well-groomed freak. I am a well-groomed waste of space. But, at least I am well-groomed. That’s not even funny. Talk to me about being “normal” when the voices in my head have stopped talking, and my moods are not on a see-saw. I do not even know where I am going to be on the scale from moment to moment, let alone for my whole life. Yeah, I am fucking employable. At least, I don’t have any more monkeys on my back. That may be the only healthy thing about me right now. Please get a clue, step outside for a minute and realize that I am pretending to be okay. I am most definitely not okay. Far from it. But, I will be. I always am. Because I have to be. I apparently have no choice.