I’m Going Crazy
I honestly feel like I’m going crazy.
Today, I’m fairly sure that I’m sick. My throat is swollen…It’s hard, very hard, to eat or drink or even swallow spit! Then, my leg keeps cramping up, which, right now, is keeping me from sleeping. This is not a good way to start my weekend.
So, I was looking on Pinterest. And, one of my dear friends has been busy pinning things about mental health. I like to look at them. One really caught my eye. It’s a post, here on WordPress actually. “The Struggle: Working and Bipolar Disorder. What’s Going On?” As I’m reading it, I’m just thinking… “Omgosh! This sounds so familiar!” So, I message my friend, and, of course, I’m tired, so I’m not exactly making sense. She’s just like “what do you mean?” Grr. Not to her, but to me, not knowing how to explain what’s going on.
I feel like, when I try to explain myself to family, that no one believes me. I know that my mom is supportive, and my husband is supportive, but I don’t think that either of them actually believe in what I’m trying to say.
Example: Last night, at work, I was having a very hard time dealing with residents and my nerves. I actually had an anxiety attack, when I called my mom. I was really upset. I couldn’t breathe. I was trying to talk to her, but that’s really hard to do, in between crying and not breathing. She actually got mad at me. Or, maybe I just think she got mad at me. Her tone of voice changed drastically. She kept telling me to calm down, she sounded annoyed that I was panicking.
It’s not as though I want to have aniety attacks. It’s not as though I want to be depressed. I really hate when people say, “well you just need to cheer up.”
Work is really hard for me. It’s a trigger. Some days, I’m great. I do my best work and beyond, with little complaints. Other days, I can’t stand to be in the building. I call in as much as I can, I need the money, but I can’t stay at work. I get very agitated and almost aggressive. When I’m depressed, I can’t do my job. I can’t help residents like I need to. I feel helpless, lonesome, and irritated that I have to be there. It’s very hard to cope with what is going on when I’m having to deal with the problems of others. That sounds really horrible, but I can’t help it. I can’t help people when I can’t help myself.
So, what if I am bipolar? What if all of this is in my head? What if I really am going crazy? No one believes me anyhow! So why wouldn’t it make sense that I’m crazy. Do you know what my aunt told me? “You’re too happy to be depressed and bipolar.” Seriously? Where the fuck have you been for the past, what, 8 years? How can you not see that I shut down, or that I lash out? How can you not see the days that I can’t get out of bed? The days that I want to die, the days that I want to swallow all the pills in the house, or drink all the alcohol in the fridge. How does no one see this but me? How can you not see that I’m upset, depressed, anxious, self-loathing, suicidal? My husband sees it, a lot more than I would like to admit. He pulls me off the couch or out of bed when I can’t get up by myself. He pulls me close to him. He makes sure that I take my meds, when I have them. He loves me through it all.
I still feel like I’m killing him. Slowly, but surely, killing him with my condition. Wearing him down, until he’s little more than a shell of a person. How much can one person take?