Gotta Fix It

So, on Friday I went to the doctor about this mania I talked about the other day.

She’s just a regular GP, so doesn’t have any expertise when it comes to bipolar and introducing new meds. GPs just tend to continue prescribing what your psychiatrist prescribe once you’re no longer seeing them. Unfortunately, this means that when you need something to be changed, they really have no idea.

My GP was fully upfront about this, and wasn’t comfortable with prescribing anything for the bipolar directly. However, she was willing to do something about the insomnia. Now I’m on 25mg/day of Seroquel for 30 days. Seroquel is actually a second generation antipsychotic, which is prescribed at higher doses for bipolar. It’s used off-label for insomnia.

So far it’s dealt with the insomnia, almost a little too well, and I’m now getting about 12 hours of sleep per night, as opposed to the five-ish I was getting before. It takes a week or so for it to start working on the mania.

My GP also sent a referral to the Mental Health Unit, and said I should contact them myself too. Having just spoken to someone there, I should get a call tomorrow about an appointment in the next few days.

I always feel silly when I describe what’s happening to me. Like it’s not actually that bad, and that I should just be able to deal with it. Maybe that’s because I’m comparing myself to the way bipolar etc is portrayed in the media, which I know is always the extreme. But then I start thinking, is it though? Is there actually something wrong with me? Maybe I’m just not a nice person, and the “quiet nature” I have (to quote my GP) is all just a facade, which cracks over time, showing people what I’m really like until I’m able to patch it up again.

It’s not like I’m violent, or I’m going to hurt myself, or anyone else.

Maybe all of this is a cry for attention. The irrational behaviour I’ve been having is all just quietly calculated.

But that doesn’t really make sense. And isn’t exactly the actions of a normal, mentally healthy person. And it honestly isn’t until later that I realise how irrational some of my behaviour has been. At the time, I think my actions/reactions are perfectly justified.

And I still can’t write anything for NaNoWriMo. It would seem I peaked on my first day, which is really disappointing. I know I can write. I think it’s another case of me thinking everyone else who succeeds in that area is so much better than me, better than I’ll ever be, so why even bother. I’ll never achieve that greatness.

I have all the ideas in there. I know the bare-bones of it all. But I’m too impatient to put all the connections in, to bulk it out into something that others would actually find interesting, that would pull them in and make them want to read more, to find out how Matti Howarth gets to be running through that forest. And I just don’t think I’m good enough to do it. Everything I write just seems to amateurish. I don’t know how to write in a descriptive manner that brings it all to life in the reader’s mind.

I know it takes time, and practice. But I want it all to be amazing right now. I’m far too impatient to piss around with substandard beginnings. I want things to be brilliant, and I want them to be brilliant right now!

I think that’s my problem with everything I try. If things aren’t fantastic and amazing from the get-go, then I give up. I can’t see what the point is. Which is stupid. I know it is. But I can’t get around the problem. I don’t know how. It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy. I don’t think I’m good enough, that I can do it, so I can’t. And I don’t know how to change that faulty wiring.

Maybe I should just try some stream-of-consciousness-type writing. That’s what I initially thought I would do for this first NaNoWriMo. But I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get away from the need for structure. It’s so frustrating! I can do it for non-fiction writing (just look at this post for example, it’s all over the place), but when it comes to fiction, for some reason everything needs to be precise and perfect. I know I could do it, if I could just get out of these restraints I’ve made for myself, or at least I’m pretty sure I could. Maybe. And there’s that self-doubt again, constantly following me round like some demented faithful dog. In this instance, I would definitely prefer an aloof, uncaring cat.

I know that getting another pill isn’t going to magically fix things, though I wish it would. At least this one makes me feel pleasantly stoned in the period after I take it before I go to bed.

Stronger Than I Think

Gah!! The image link is broken. Sorry folks, pretty sure it’s gone forever. The post still makes general sense though, I just can’t provide the source of the inspiration.

After this post on Monday, I had an interesting conversation with @_HannahTweets_:

Note: You read this from bottom to top, in case you are unfamiliar with Twitter

This got me thinking. One of the issues stemming from my fight with depression is that I care way too much about what others may think of me. Compare this to the way I present myself to the world, and there’s a giant contradiction. I stand staunchly by my beliefs, though not completely blindly, and try to help others become aware of the vast number of social problems that plague this planet. The way I dress, my hair, my piercings and tattoos are all a giant shout out to the world on behalf of my own self identity. Almost begging (for lack of a better word) for others to take notice.

And yet, in my dark and uncertain times I constantly worry about what others must be thinking about me, the anxiety completely taking over. I mean, of course they must be judging me, I don’t really give them much of a choice.

Surprisingly, I almost never worry what others may think of my weight. Is this because I am always seeing other people who are a lot larger than me? Perhaps.

It doesn’t really make sense how I can be confident, while at the same time have this doubt swimming around inside of me. Though this doubt does seem to filter through to my relationships with others. I struggle to make and retain friends. Maybe this is due to the combined effect of both the confidence and the doubt.

Dealing with this strange combination (I think it’s strange, though it’s probably much more common than I realize) is much easier in the wide world of the Internets. There’s a much larger pool of people from which to make contact with, making it more likely to find others who think and feel about things the same way you do. It’s because of the internet that I became aware of my interests in women’s rights, queer rights, human rights, fat acceptance, sex-positivity etc, and it’s through the internet that I was able to find others like me.

I think as I’m getting older, becoming more in tune with my own self, my confidence will out shine the doubt more and more. In the meantime, I’m going to fake it ’til I make it, belief is half the battle after all.

Fat Positivity & Fat Phobia

I wrote this post yesterday. It generated this most fantastic response post by Aeval.

I have been considerably lucky with regards to fat phobic comments. Though Mum always says as we were growing up, she was constantly trying to get me to stop eating so much and my younger, much slimmer sister to eat more, I have no memory of this. It was my sister who used to steal food and hide it in her room. I don’t remember getting teased at school until end of Form 2 (Year 8), and that was one boy calling me “fatty” once. Maybe it was just so terrible that I’ve blocked it all out, but I’m guessing I was just lucky.

Since then I’ve had the “are you pregnant?” comments (seriously, if you’re not 100% sure, you really shouldn’t ask), and comments from family members (particularly my Mum) saying that I should lose weight, though not in so many words, and that they only say it because they “care about me”. I’ve had a couple of fat phobic doctors, but generally I’ve been pretty lucky with that too (and my current doctor is fantastic!).

I don’t know where the confidence that I seem to have comes from. It’s part of the giant contradiction that I seem to be. I like to stand out from the crowd, by what I wear, the colour of my hair, my spiritual beliefs, my social beliefs, maybe I use my weight as part of that. Then we have the part of me that worries about what other think about me, what they say about me behind my back (yay, social phobias!).

Ever since I met J though, the self confidence has been easier. It’s easier to think like this. This is even in the face of my social anxieties becoming more profound once I got my depression under control.

It’s through this blog and getting my Bachelor in Political Science that I hope to reaffirm this self confidence and to help other realize their own self confidence and accepting themselves for all the awesomeness that they are.