Bipolar 1 Disorder

Growing up, I was academically gifted and graduated high school at the top of my class. My dad always pushed me to go to school and even offered to pay for it, so naturally I went to college. At age 18, before I could attend University, I had my first psychotic break that lasted nearly 6 months and took a year to fully recover from. It was frightening to say the least and easily one of the worst experiences I had thus far in life.

Still, I got back on my feet and enrolled at a local community college. I excelled there. I joined a sports team and worked two jobs while studying nursing. All was well for two years until I had another major psychotic break at age 22 which lasted 5 months and took another year to recover from. Still, I never gave up. I re-enrolled in school again once I was healthy and able to, and graduated with honors. I had been diagnosed by several different psychiatrists, with diagnoses ranging from Bipolar 1 with Psychotic Features to Major Depressive Disorder with Psychotic Features and even Schizoaffective Disorder. I was put on a strict medication regimen.

For the next two years I worked, and stayed on medication, until I unfortunately had another psychotic break due to stress and trauma. 2023 was one of the hardest years of my life as I spent most of the year in and out of mental hospitals and in active psychosis for months. For whatever reason, I firmly believed that the Mexican Cartel was out to murder me (I live in a safe white suburb and have no connection to the Cartel whatsoever) by burning me alive so I was desperately trying to find various ways to kill myself before they could get to me and take my life in such a horrifying and painful manner. This led to me overdosing on Fentanyl which I nearly did die from on January 7th, 2024. Luckily my friend found me and called an ambulance and I was resuscitated.

After I was administered a life-saving dose of Naloxone, I was rushed to yet another psych ward and I had so many false beliefs and delusions that the nurses and doctors there were gang / cartel affiliated and wanted to torture me. I had paranoid thoughts that cameras were following me everywhere, capturing my every movement and displaying my life to an invisible audience for their sick entertainment. I was so scared, alone, and confused.

Thankfully, as months went by, I healed again and came out of psychosis gradually. Despite everything, I kept moving forward. I began working again and currently am also in school again furthering my degree.

I guess I just feel behind in life, but I also can’t help but feel like I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for those god damn psychotic breaks I am prone to. I pray to any God who is out there, please never let me experience another one. They’re genuinely terrifying. I didn’t ask for this illness. I don’t even know how it developed. #Bipolar1 #Trauma #Psychosis

Growing up, I was academically gifted and graduated high school at the top of my class. My dad always pushed me to go to school and even offered to pay for it, so naturally I went to college. At age 18, before I could attend University, I had my first psychotic break that lasted nearly 6 months and took a year to fully recover from. It was frightening to say the least and easily one of the worst experiences I had thus far in life.

Still, I got back on my feet and enrolled at a local community college. I excelled there. I joined a sports team and worked two jobs while studying nursing. All was well for two years until I had another major psychotic break at age 22 which lasted 5 months and took another year to recover from. Still, I never gave up. I re-enrolled in school again once I was healthy and able to, and graduated with honors. I had been diagnosed by several different psychiatrists, with diagnoses ranging from Bipolar 1 with Psychotic Features to Major Depressive Disorder with Psychotic Features and even Schizoaffective Disorder. I was put on a strict medication regimen.

For the next two years I worked, and stayed on medication, until I unfortunately had another psychotic break due to stress and trauma. 2023 was one of the hardest years of my life as I spent most of the year in and out of mental hospitals and in active psychosis for months. For whatever reason, I firmly believed that the Mexican Cartel was out to murder me (I live in a safe white suburb and have no connection to the Cartel whatsoever) by burning me alive so I was desperately trying to find various ways to kill myself before they could get to me and take my life in such a horrifying and painful manner. This led to me overdosing on Fentanyl which I nearly did die from on January 7th, 2024. Luckily my friend found me and called an ambulance and I was resuscitated.

After I was administered a life-saving dose of Naloxone, I was rushed to yet another psych ward and I had so many false beliefs and delusions that the nurses and doctors there were gang / cartel affiliated and wanted to torture me. I had paranoid thoughts that cameras were following me everywhere, capturing my every movement and displaying my life to an invisible audience for their sick entertainment. I was so scared, alone, and confused.

Thankfully, as months went by, I healed again and came out of psychosis gradually. Despite everything, I kept moving forward. I began working again and currently am also in school again furthering my degree.

I guess I just feel behind in life, but I also can’t help but feel like I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for those god damn psychotic breaks I am prone to. I pray to any God who is out there, please never let me experience another one. They’re genuinely terrifying. I didn’t ask for this illness. I don’t even know how it developed. #Bipolar1 #Trauma #Psychosis

The days have passed, time has passed and little by little my days became more active as the year went by. In August I felt my first slight pang of happy I had all year, it had been daily darkness and no motivation before that. Since August I’ve kept going and the days improved until my other emotions started coming back. Sometimes so strong I didn’t know what to do with them and still sometimes don’t, they are overwhelming and I search for an immediate way to alleviate them but sometimes they just need to be experienced until they pass. The months are getting better, there is an improvement. Earlier this year every day was dark and the same it didn’t seem like it would change, but it does change. There is always change in life and we can only hope it’s for the better gradually over time. Some days are easier than others, and some days it’s learning to allow rest without feeling guilty, as I’ve grown up in a society that rewards movement and productivity.

Health is the priority.

#Bipolar1 #Recovery #MentalHealth #Depression #Anxiety

The days have passed, time has passed and little by little my days became more active as the year went by. In August I felt my first slight pang of happy I had all year, it had been daily darkness and no motivation before that. Since August I’ve kept going and the days improved until my other emotions started coming back. Sometimes so strong I didn’t know what to do with them and still sometimes don’t, they are overwhelming and I search for an immediate way to alleviate them but sometimes they just need to be experienced until they pass. The months are getting better, there is an improvement. Earlier this year every day was dark and the same it didn’t seem like it would change, but it does change. There is always change in life and we can only hope it’s for the better gradually over time. Some days are easier than others, and some days it’s learning to allow rest without feeling guilty, as I’ve grown up in a society that rewards movement and productivity.

Health is the priority.

#Bipolar1 #Recovery #MentalHealth #Depression #Anxiety

This woman is important. I need her to like me. I need her to buy these ridiculously expensive products that I don’t give a shit about.

I haven’t slept in days so when she orders a cappuccino I take a double espresso. The Lorazepam did nothing to slow my heart, ease my sweating, stop my trembling hands. So how am I going to drink it anyway?

Getting in the metro I could only think of the impending crash, the fire, the screams. I was terrifying myself with scenes I couldn’t shut off. And still, against my will I boarded my perceived coffin.

By the time I reach the cafe, I’m hanging on by a thread.

“Ingrid,” I say
Her face tightens.
“Oh, sorry. I was just speaking with an Ingrid a minute ago”
My apology sounds weak even to me.

This woman is smart and in control. She’s attractive in the way that comes from discipline, money, and long days. Her long blonde hair softening the signs of age, flowing around her oval face and dropping gently on her shoulders. You don’t get this far overnight. She could have me for breakfast, or this lunch I’m paying for.

I try to remember the proposal, but the situation is slipping away from me fast. Why didn’t I check her LinkedIn, why didn’t I Google the company? At least get some background. Now I’m sitting here spewing numbers that I neither understand nor hear myself saying.

She’s asking questions she knows the answers to. I nod, but I’m no longer listening.
Just over her shoulder I see it.
And I know I shouldn’t be seeing it.

A tree stump is crawling across the road on its dry, raw roots. Its roots move like an octopus pushing and dragging its body over the road. It’s as tall as a man, not an octopus, and with it’s head, not it’s legs, chopped off. And yet I feel it looking at me from that empty space above the dead brown wood.
A pedestrian steps over it. A bike rides across a thin root tip.

No reaction.
They can’t see it.
But it’s there.
Just for me.

Our lunch arrives, breaking the silence I wasn’t listening to.

We eat like two civilized business women, the small talk mechanical, automatic. As soon as words leave my lips I’ve forgotten them. I laugh appropriately at her quip and then forget what she said.
I avoid looking at the street but one quick glance.

Gone.
Good.

I leave her with the proposal I’m sure now she’ll never sign. I obsess and ruminate and sweat and shake; get lost and finally have a beer in my hand in the safety of my home.

What the pills won’t do the alcohol will.
#Addiction #Bipolar1 #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #Anxiety

This woman is important. I need her to like me. I need her to buy these ridiculously expensive products that I don’t give a shit about.

I haven’t slept in days so when she orders a cappuccino I take a double espresso. The Lorazepam did nothing to slow my heart, ease my sweating, stop my trembling hands. So how am I going to drink it anyway?

Getting in the metro I could only think of the impending crash, the fire, the screams. I was terrifying myself with scenes I couldn’t shut off. And still, against my will I boarded my perceived coffin.

By the time I reach the cafe, I’m hanging on by a thread.

“Ingrid,” I say
Her face tightens.
“Oh, sorry. I was just speaking with an Ingrid a minute ago”
My apology sounds weak even to me.

This woman is smart and in control. She’s attractive in the way that comes from discipline, money, and long days. Her long blonde hair softening the signs of age, flowing around her oval face and dropping gently on her shoulders. You don’t get this far overnight. She could have me for breakfast, or this lunch I’m paying for.

I try to remember the proposal, but the situation is slipping away from me fast. Why didn’t I check her LinkedIn, why didn’t I Google the company? At least get some background. Now I’m sitting here spewing numbers that I neither understand nor hear myself saying.

She’s asking questions she knows the answers to. I nod, but I’m no longer listening.
Just over her shoulder I see it.
And I know I shouldn’t be seeing it.

A tree stump is crawling across the road on its dry, raw roots. Its roots move like an octopus pushing and dragging its body over the road. It’s as tall as a man, not an octopus, and with it’s head, not it’s legs, chopped off. And yet I feel it looking at me from that empty space above the dead brown wood.
A pedestrian steps over it. A bike rides across a thin root tip.

No reaction.
They can’t see it.
But it’s there.
Just for me.

Our lunch arrives, breaking the silence I wasn’t listening to.

We eat like two civilized business women, the small talk mechanical, automatic. As soon as words leave my lips I’ve forgotten them. I laugh appropriately at her quip and then forget what she said.
I avoid looking at the street but one quick glance.

Gone.
Good.

I leave her with the proposal I’m sure now she’ll never sign. I obsess and ruminate and sweat and shake; get lost and finally have a beer in my hand in the safety of my home.

What the pills won’t do the alcohol will.
#Addiction #Bipolar1 #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #Anxiety