Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Posted on: August 16, 2015

I guess my level of self-awareness has been lower in recent months than it has in a long time. This stems from a conscious decision, I think, not to think of myself in terms of mental illness. I am uncomfortable thinking of myself as mentally ill, and ideas of diagnosis and recovery that, many years ago, seemed to represent some sort of hope or light at the end of the tunnel, have in recent years become more meaningless and futile.

It used to be that at my worst, at my least aware, I would think I feel this way because of how the world is. I would explain and justify my feelings in terms of external factors, and believe that my feelings were a sensible response to the world around me.

Now, I rarely even realise what I’m feeling.

Looking back, squinting hard, something like a pattern emerges. Weeks of misery. Heart-clenching anxiety, taking hours to raise the courage to speak to anyone, heavy-limbed exhaustion and fantasies of suicide. But during those times I wasn’t thinking about my feelings. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I didn’t even fully realise what I was experiencing. I just lived it. It was real. I was scared. I was tired. I should have killed myself. No logic or sequence or causality. Just life.

Then only realising what I’d felt when it lifted. A few weeks of feeling lighter, like a literal weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Things becoming easy. Chatting and having opinions and thinking about options and the future. Staying up until the early hours with repeated thoughts going round my head, mouthing imaginary conversations to myself. Being quick and smart and funny.

Then back to the beginning again.

I don’t know what normal is. Maybe this is normal. Maybe it only seems odd to me because I’ve actually taken time to think about it for the first time in months.

I wish I was more assertive. I wish I was more consistent. I wish I wish I wish.

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2 Responses to ""

I know what you mean about that depression-sized weight. Gravity is not kind to the depressed. All week, I felt like my bones had turned to bricks, & I just wanted to lay down & sink into the ground. & then today, I was jittery & chipper & my mind was all over the place. It felt chaotic, like being stuck in a room filled with strobe lights. It’s exhausting.

I think it can be especially confusing when you’re always kind of skimming the surface between dysfunctional and functional. Dysfunctional enough that if it were possible to will yourself to die, you’d be dead, but functional enough that you still get yourself out of bed in the morning because of the obligations that come along with living (it was school, for me. now, it’s work. -_- fun.)

Yeah. I really have nothing helpful to say. I get it.. I think. Well, if I don’t get it, I feel like I get it. More importantly, I feel for you as a person, & not just some far away concept, & that’s because of how well you’ve told your story on this blog. I’ve always loved how eloquently you’re able to channel your feelings into written word.

Take care.

Hi, my name is Kirstin. I’m 28 and was recently diagnosed with cyclothymia. I’ve experienced the crippling lows and incredible, manic highs all my life. Only now, it has an official name. I’m beginning treatment. I’m terrified because I don’t know what to expect. I understand your feeling of not wanting to consider yourself mentally ill. To me, it feels like now it’s a permanent marker of defectiveness. It breaks my heart. I’ve cried and cried. I started a blog because I read yours about cyclothymia last week and decided it could be a good outlet. Maybe we can keep in contact? Like a support network…only if you’d like. My blog is iamkirstin.blogspot.com. Feel free to message me whenever. I’m also on Facebook – kirstin jacklyn perez

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Hello

My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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