I really do miss blogging.
This past week, I realized how much it helped me when I was depressed and posting a lot. It was part of my support system.
I would share how I was feeling or what I was going through and people would respond. It assured me I was not the only one in that situation or having those thoughts or unpleasant experiences.
When I could not sleep at 2 or 3 in the morning, I would start blogging.
One time while I was going through major depression, I sat at my computer and blogged. It was a safe place for me to be. I was expressing how I was feeling and being there kept me from harming myself. I knew others would read what I had written and respond with encouragement. When they did, it was of great comfort to know that someone understood what was happening to me. It felt like I had a listening ear that would not interrupt me.
Once I got better, I stopped blogging. I did not think I had anything to share unless I was depressed or manic.
Recently, I was starting to go up and down. You know the pole I am talking about. I did not waver to much but enough that my therapist strongly suggested I start to blog again, so a few weeks ago, I started posting again.
I really miss having the internet at home. It was why I was able to post so much. Hopefully, by the winter I will have it again. In the meantime I will have to be at the mercy of the library ‘s computer use.
Last week, I really got into some trouble with stinking thinking.
I was having a great day. It was late one evening when I had to return a phone call and then it started. The phone call quickly went south and then another call went south and then stinking thinking started. The person said to me, ” I could say some things about you, but I don’t.” They did not say good or bad, but because they made that statement and did not clarify it, I started taking it in a negative manner because they were annoyed with me for calling them out on something they were doing.
I was using tough love speech to wake them up about their life because I care about them. When you see someone doing something that you know is destroying them, you speak out because you care. Sometimes you just want to shake them and say “what the hell are you doing?” That is what I was doing with my words. I was trying to shake them.
They shook me without even knowing it. They turned the table on me. This person knows that when you make a statement like that to me you have to say what it is and they did not. My mind is always trying to figure out what someone means when they make an open ended comment. Unfortunately, I always, always, think the worse.
A switch in my mind turned after the call ended. Everything that is logical became illogical. I started beating myself up with thoughts of self hatred and disgust. There was nothing I liked about myself. Everything good anyone had said about me, I turned it around to something negative. I started sending crazy off the wall text messages to this person. I was expressing how disgusted I was with myself (there was nothing logical about what I was doing). In the end I begged the person to forgive me and to call me and let me know I was forgiven. The call never came. I was so upset and distraught that I took 3 Ativan (for anxiety). I started hallucinating that one of my friends was in the house with me and I was asking her if she wanted coffee. When I turned around for her answer I did not see her so I thought she went to the restroom. After a few minutes I realized she was never there.
Things got a little hairy when I thought to myself, ” I wonder what it would feel like to cut my arm. Not a deep cut, just the surface.” It was then that I reached out to one of my friends who worked late. They came over and listened and assured me I did nothing wrong. They told me to leave it alone. They prayed for me and left. It was the first night in 3 nights I had more than 3 hours sleep.
Lack of sleep the previous nights was throwing me into the beginning of mania and I did not realize it. Once thinking stinking started, I was going downhill. Thank God for supportive people in my life whether or not they know I have bipolar, they are there for me without question.
Never be afraid to reach out to your true friends. They are the ones who are available by phone or in person whenever you need them. For me, they are turning into a rare breed of people.
The person I was trying to help: the next day I was still shaken so I went to my therapist. She asked me if I thought this person’s ex would agree with what I said about their life and I said, “Most definitely”. That really made me realize, I did nothing wrong except to reach out to them in love and what I said struck a cord. They took a shot at me to turn the tables. It worked then, but because I used my support system, I was fine in the end.
Love to all
pb aka peanut butter