Sometimes we really want to get better and the world seems to say no.
I was initially diagnosed with Bipolar 2, this is not a set in stone diagnosis, according to my former psychiatrist.
I went on 4 years taking meds. It did help, but my treatment begun right at the start of the pandemic. So, I didn't do the follow ups. I still took the initial dosage for years, regularly. At that time I also found a nice therapist, but had to put it on hold and by the time pandemic was over, she was retired. It was a pity because I really liked her.
The meds help me a lot, but I think I needed to work into the dosage. By the end I was having suicidal thoughts.
I divide suicidal thought between emotional and rational. When it is driven by emotion it will be that desperate cry of pain inside you and outside you. When rational it is more "well, this is my ultimate destiny, it is just a matter of time, this life is just not for me in practical terms." together with researching methods and even making a plan.
By the end of the year I had an opportunity to move to a bigger city, to live right near one of the worlds most famous urban beaches and most beautiful too. By that prospective, I thought meds were already not working that well, so I might start new. I know, it is classical stuff we always want to see how is life outside medication at some point.
So, I did stop it, it has been more than two months. There was energy in me to have a new approach, but of course change is never easy. It starts with the surrounding people who always seem to make it difficult to change, to apply change. The move also brought on practical stuff, like, I wanted to cook my own healthy meals, but till today I cant use the stove because I need to make changes in the kitchen and it costs money.
I am exercising, taking cold showers to bust energy, I'm trying to have a routine, I desperately need a routine, I'm trying to stay away of bad habits. The only way I now how to do it is by imposing myself a military way of living. I have to wake by 6am, have I slept well or not, no options, if I have options I will be all day in bed. In so it goes own to another aspects of my life.
This takes a toll in me, but the other option is like a said: I will do nothing, I've been doing nothing for years and this is also the path of self destruction. My life is anhedonia. Everything ends up meaning nothing to me.
Now, I want to go back to meds, not to using them as an escape, but to help me not feeling like life means nothing from the moment I'm awake to the moment I go to sleep. Thing is, it is hard to make an appointment, I have insurance but this makes me like a second class patient, they always make private (meaning u pay for the session upfront) a priority. I don't have money right now. I don't even know I would have money for the meds right at this moment.
I learned life is hard work, there is no escape, this is proven to me over and over, but it seems so ironic that even when you really want to do the work there are always those little things to make it harder. I mean, I am so lacking of energy and now I have to fight to get a consultation, they don't have a date, they told me I should call back next week. Sure I'm trying other people, but all so slow to reply.
I am not at the stage I will really kill myself, I don't want to do that to my loved ones, but I wake up and the fantasy hits me that would be so good if I was gone, this is just a losing battle.
One part of me wants to be that success story, the one who could fight the adversities and rebuilt a new, nice life. But as it happens to many desires and dream, they start to die when you realize they are only wishful thinking.