Loopy, Lonely and Lost

Posts Tagged ‘mood

Here it goes, I lose control.

I felt pretty good for a couple of days, and I didn’t question it, didn’t worry, couldn’t see anything unusual in it. Didn’t even think about it, really. Just enjoyed the breath of fresh air, the lifting of a weight.

Then all of a sudden things are too bright and loud and upbeat. I say stuff I wouldn’t normally, see eyebrows raising as I seem arrogant and presumptuous and overly-friendly and just generally weird. I go to work and try harder than everyone, get everything just so, becoming obsessive about it, never stopping.

Then I come home and talk, talk, talk and laugh until my throat hurts. Then my thoughts are racing, really racing, to the point where they get so fast they just become white noise, I can’t make anything out, like when things travel quickly in cartoons and all you see is a blur. Sweeping lines of motion but no discernible outline.

I can’t think anymore, my mind moving so fast that I can’t get purchase on any particular thought, they’re all whizzing past just beyond my reach, and there is simultaneously so much and nothing at all going on in my mind and I start to get afraid.

It’s 2am. I can’t sleep. I’m actually seriously considering hurting myself, just to shut my brain up. I know it’s stupid and self-destructive but it’s fucking tempting, the idea of harming myself just enough to induce that blank state in which I can collapse in to bed, mind silent, actually no thoughts at all, and sleep until morning.

What am I supposed to do? I can’t stop moving or thinking, everything going round in circles. Earlier at work my friends and I were looking at a puzzle and I couldn’t see the answer but now it’s come to me and it’s yelling in my ear, I’m fidgety and I’m mouthing it to myself and it won’t get out of my head, just a stupid meaningless phrase that repeats over and over again and keeps me awake.

Like a punch in the gut.

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Something must change.

I don’t know what, and I don’t know how.

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I’m sleeping really badly (it’s half past three in the morning and I’m wide awake and wired).

I’ve been going on long, rambling, self-righteous rants (mostly, but not exclusively, at my mother – pointing out hypocrisy and idiocy and everything that makes me angry).

I’m getting quite badly anxious, as well. My friend invited me out for his birthday, and before I could go I had to bombard him with texts: Who’s going? Will we be going on to anywhere else? What should I wear? What time should I arrive? When will I be going home? I’m so angry with myself that I can’t just get an invitation, say yes, grab a bag and go.

Another friend said she was going to come to my house to drop off a Christmas present. I stayed awake for 36 hours in blind terror that I might be asleep when she arrived. It made absolutely no sense, and I kept telling myself that, but I couldn’t switch off my brain.

I’ve got some time off work for Christmas, and that’s probably a good thing because my head isn’t in the right place, and they’re all expecting me to be good at my job (I got the pay-rise, by the way. Now they keep asking me what I want to do next, and letting me coach other people, and stand in for managers) and I’m terrified of being found out, of them realising that it’s all a lie and I’m useless. But maybe if I was at work I’d have something to concentrate on and my mind wouldn’t be whizzing around like a Catherine Wheel stuck on a fence.

I just want to relax. I want to spend the Christmas period hanging out with friends and watching TV and eating and drinking too much and laughing and chatting, calm and lazy and enjoying that I don’t have anything to do. Instead I’m twitchy and irritable and nervous, biting people’s heads off and over-thinking everything.

There’s a part of me, a tiny little part, that thinks I have some sort of future. There’s a person inside of me that believes I can stay alive, not just on a short-term, make-it-to-next-week basis, but for decades, for an entire natural life.

That person, she makes plans. She wants to find a house, get a mortgage, live alone. She wants to push on and succeed at work, do some volunteering, join a gym. She wants to create a little haven of calm, a home in which she’s not always watching the door, waiting for someone to barge in. She wants to learn to cook properly and paint some walls and organise her life. She wants something to organise, expenses to budget for, a diary to arrange and a life to keep in order. She dreams, vaguely, of writing something. Not for publication (even the dreamer in me is slightly realistic), but just an exercise in creativity, something to uncover her childhood enthusiasms which have been buried for so long.

But a dream is all it is. I fantasise about being a functioning adult human the way a child fantasises about being a film star or an astronaut or a Barbie doll. Having an actual life is about as realistic an aim for me as growing an extra arm. Read the rest of this entry »

I know I’m not being a particularly nice person at the moment. I mean, I don’t think my friends mind. They see me being sarcastic and cutting and brutally honest and they think it’s funny. I suppose it is, a bit.

But anyone who knows my family, even a little, will know that my mum doesn’t take well to that kind of attitude.

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Wherever I go, whatever I do, whoever I’m with, sooner or later, someone calls me crazy.

I know it probably says less about me than I think it does, and more about the fact that the easiest way to insult someone or make a joke at their expense is to question their sanity. It’s just, it’s always me.

People at work have been commenting.

A month, I’ve been there, and they’re noticing and commenting and questioning.

Okay, I admit it, lately I’ve been a little…boisterous. Tip-tap-tapping away on everything, and talking too loudly and laughing so hard and making jokes and talking to strangers as if we’re good friends, and being…fierce, never backing down, never letting people walk all over me, never accepting anything I have reason to doubt, and doubting it loudly and aggressively.

And people have been commenting. From a confused “I don’t know where I stand with you” to a teasing “you can get help with that”. From a laughing, exasperated “bloody hell, calm down”, to a probing “do you think of yourself as quite stable?” (“Stable as a horse!” I replied, and waited for the – crap – joke to sink in, so we could laugh and I wouldn’t have to think).

I can push away the questions and the comments relatively easily, if a little irritably, at the moment, because I feel strong and alive and energetic (sleeping badly but not noticing the lack of rest, just getting annoyed because I can’t keep still and I can’t switch off and it’s boring, lying around and wondering whether sleep or the ring of the alarm clock will come first). However, I am vaguely aware that I won’t always be so adept at responding to the way everyone so casually says crazy and mad and mental and you act like you’ve got multiple personalities when I’m around.

Yeah, you read that right. I have a job. I start in three weeks.

It’s not necessarily ideal. Not particularly exciting.

But it seems interesting, challenging but not demoralisingly difficult, and it seems like a happy place to be, full of friendly, laid-back people. And there’s the money, of course – not brilliant, but it’s comfortably above minimum wage, with plenty of potential bonuses. And it seems like something I could do – a job where I could actually cope and learn and have ideas.

And, well, I’m not entirely sure what I want to do with the rest of my life, so I might as well fill the time while I’m deciding doing something that’ll look good on my CV (experience, and training, and proving that I am actually slightly employable). And if I never make a decision, at least I have a job.  Read the rest of this entry »

Things are going okay. I’m having snatches of my mood lifting…an hour or two here, an hour or two there. To be honest, most of the time I’m feeling reasonably cheerful. It’s interspersed with bursts of absolute panic re: everything but – horrible as those times are – at the moment, feeling okay is taking up more time.

I had another counselling appointment on Friday. If I’m being perfectly honest, it wasn’t particularly useful. I had a lot of difficulty understanding what she wanted me to talk about, and even more difficulty actually talking. I can’t find the proper words. Everything feels like either an understatement or an exaggeration, and I just sort of sit there, casting my mind around for something I can say without having to clarify it or follow it up with “…sometimes” or “I think” or “I’m not sure that makes any sense”. She keeps asking for explanations, too. That doesn’t particularly bother me – obviously it’s best if she actually understands what I’m talking about – but the more I try and fail to explain properly, the more frustrated I get with myself. It’s like there’s a brick wall in front of me every time I speak, or else a switch that flicks in my mind and stops my thoughts from reaching my mouth. When I speak to her, I feel more than ever like I’m being vague or making strange comparisons or just saying the wrong things in the wrong way…I listen to my words and I don’t think I‘d be able to get it, if I didn’t have access to my thoughts too.

I suppose she must be good at her job because, unlike with pretty much everyone I’ve ever tried to talk to about this, talking to her doesn’t immediately make me want to throw myself off a cliff. There’s only time for two more sessions, anyway, so I might as well keep going. I suspect that maybe it’s the fixed, short-term nature of the thing that stops me from panicking: it doesn’t matter what happens, because soon enough I’ll never see her again.

I went to my friend’s party on Saturday night, too. It went reasonably well. I was alright. I spoke and laughed and it was all okay, although I kept getting distracted by the sky (I don’t know what it is about night skies. They feel weirdly significant, and I tend to get lost in them easily). The people who were there who I knew already were lovely but kept asking where I’d been, why I hadn’t been in touch…why we hadn’t spoken for six months. I don’t know where that time has gone. It worries me that half a year can pass and I’ve done nothing and not contacted my friends and not really noticed anything. I worry that a whole lifetime could pass that way.

The people who were there who I didn’t know were a bit of a problem, too. Well, not a problem, as such. I just get annoyed when, within seconds of my reaching a place, people are grinning at me and laughing and talking at me in that way that feels like they’re prompting me, trying to get me to say something ridiculous. And then, a couple of hours later, they were listing the funny things I’d said (apparently several entries for their Quotes of the Day), and casually telling me I’m “a bit strange”, as if it’s a completely obvious and uncontroversial point. Don’t get me wrong, they were nice people. I just tire of everyone’s first impression of me being exactly the same (a friend once introduced me to his girlfriend as “Laura. She’s crazy”, and I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been introduced to friends of friends and they’ve raised an eyebrow and grinned and said, “yeah, I’ve heard all about you”, and later, “[our mutual friend] told me you’d be like this!”). I don’t even really understand why it happens. I mean, I’m not that weird, am I? There are definitely people weirder. It just saddens me a bit, and sometimes makes me feel more like free (and slightly bewildered) entertainment than a friend.


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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