This is one of those posts. The is honesty. This is transparency. This is terribly sad. This is triggering. This is heartbreaking. This is episodic.
This is not my end.
This is an absolute for me when I’m so utterly low, depressed and anxious.
I’m furious with how much I hurt; how often I’m in pain and its intensity. I’m beginning to feel overwhelmed with having to continue in pain every single day, especially when considering how rapidly my body is breaking down, and knowing it will only get worse, according to doctors, but more reliably my experience.
I’m starting to hear that faint voice again. I hate her. She’s very much the sexy seductress. I’ve heard her before. I’ll hear her again. She’s whispering to me, trying to manipulate me.
And so, I give my husband all of my medications for him to hide and protect in case she becomes wholly and completely convincing. That way I go to sleep knowing that tomorrow I will not swallow all those pills. 💊💊💊 And that takes a lot of strength right now because I really want out. A lot of strength. 💪💪💪
Preventative measures and plans are important for those with any mental health issues during times they experience crippling despair. If you don’t have a plan, I recommend working with your providers, family and friends to put one together and to use while you still have your senses about you. For example, I give my husband my meds. I know to speak to my therapist straight away. We can make an appointment with my psychiatrist if need be. We even know which mental health facility I would be checked into if things became too far out of control. I’m held accountable to family and friends.
(MY3 Suicide Prevention)
I urge you to consider putting together a Safety Plan in order to spare both you or your friends and family members a devastating loss.
So, some of my psych meds ran out a week earlier than my scheduled follow up. (Still not sure how that happened.) On top of that, I’ve been significantly ill. Now, I’m experiencing days reminiscent of the past. The Bipolar-Unmedicated kinda life, and my freakin’ gosh. I had forgotten just how awful that is!
Bipolar can be a deceptive (sorry, not sorry) bitch and lie to you, telling you that you were great before meds.
Lying torment of a disease, it is.