Bipolar/PTSD and ME
Disclaimer: I’m not a doctor, I don’t make recommendations, I share my experience. If you need help, please reach out to your doctor or local clinic. Resources linked below.
This is a day* in the life of my mental illness…
Today I woke up with an ache in my head and a humming in my body and ears, trembling of hands, and a high sensitivity to noise. Even some of my favorite sounds like the birds outside the window or the breeze grated on me, giving me a cringing sensation near my jaw. On this glorious day, seventy-five and sunny, I had the windows closed to keep out the chirping of the birds and the street traffic. I lint rolled inside my shirt because it was itchy, and I straightened up all the furniture to help me concentrate. But it didn’t really help.
Today my cognitive ability and executive function is in and out like a bad telephone connection with different levels of static with moments of clarity. The same goes with my emotions: laughing one moment, crying the next, then feeling rage toward myself because of my limitations and fluctuations. I’m embarrassed to be like this in front of my kids—who thankfully are grown and self sufficient. I could not provide for them, nor could my family afford the help we would need if we had to hire assistance. As it is, my husband stayed home with me for nearly a year as I recovered to the point I could be left alone for long periods.
Today, I also flinched aggressively at my husband’s embrace, and I was afraid to drive anywhere alone. I was tired and frustrated—irritable.
Today I listened to a friend read an excerpt of a story and couldn’t follow along. I felt the word patterns and dichotomies but couldn’t recall a single detail when they were done—as a student of literature, long time lover of reading, and ELA educator, this is always frightening.
Today I felt like dying, stopping, taking THE big break from it all. But I didn’t. I keep pushing.
Today, I took my medication because my team and I decided the RISK of not taking them is worse than what I experience in unwanted side effects—though I am not always sure that’s true (see below). It is easy for them to say that but totally different to experience it and arrive at the same decision.
Today, one good thing is that I have HOPE to get back to myself, or as my therapist says, “not back,” but “on to the next chapter.”
Issues with My Treatment: “Sometimes the therapy is worse than the disease.”