I don’t actually sleepwalk. But my life over the last few months has become akin to one epic night of sleepwalking through every motion required by life. Auto pilot at its finest.

I had a huuuge and abrupt mood crash earlier. It didn’t last long but it took a couple of sporks right out of my hand. The doctor will blame it on the Lamictal failing but I think it relates more to how exhausted I am after six months of not sleeping through the night. I’m the dead walking. I’d be in a coma if the Cymbalta didn’t boost my energy. It’s just not putting me ‘over the top’ when it comes to the depression. I honestly do think I’m just sleep deprived. Which science has proven affects mood, energy, motivation, frame of mind, ability to make good choices.

When the mood bounced back ( ya know, from “I wanna die” to “Ugh, why am I still alive”) I ripped off the bandage and went ahead and mowed the lawn. Which I’ve put off and put off, all the while fretting about the landlord saying something and it looking like a frigging jungle. It is done now. I should be good for two days or so. Ugh. All this domestic ungodliness is a waste of time. Just like bipolar, it keeps going and no sooner than you’re done, the cycle goes again. Pointless.

Spook made new friends. I got brave and let her go play at their house for an hour. Wrecks my nerves but…I can’t turn her into anti social me. It;s like, she’s in my face, I’m stressed, she’s out of my sight, I’m stressed. I’m so fucked in the head.

My ever helpful dad called me today. To inform me there’s a property in town up for auction due to non payment of taxes and he thinks it’s this trailer park where we live. Could be. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. I have forty cents to my name, I don’t think that’s gonna cut it for a deposit for a new place to live. And whereas everything makes me panic, on this one i’ve just become resigned…He;s all like, “Not to scare you but maybe you should be thinking of a backup plan…” Yeah, that’s helpful. Backup plans require money. I’m not gonna start screaming about falling skies until given proof that it is indeed falling. I’m just too damned tired to freak out about it. When you rent, it’s just kind of a hopeful limbo that they won’t sell it out from under you and toss your ass into the street. I’ve got more than enough to worry about as is.

I didn’t do a damned thing today but mow the lawn. Not feeling it. I don’t feel guilty, either. Not about that. The guilt I’ve been feeling lately stems from my desire to learn about my disorders. Inevitably, borderline personality disorder is tied into bipolar and I am set off like a molotov cocktail. Because while I can certainly see traits of borderline when it comes to my relationships, again, it all ties back to the mood cycles. I meet someone during my manic/stable period, all is well. I start to come undone and even though they were warned repeatedly, the depression hits, I become irrational, and lather, rinse, repeat. Every single one of my relationships were started during  the spring/summer. And they all ended during one of my depressions when the wussies decided they couldn’t handle it.

Because yeah, they were absolutely flawless and not the least bit homicidal impulse inducing.

I just fail to see how behaviors present during the bipolar cycles, yet absent during other cycles, can be considered personality. And I’m getting goddamn infuriated with this shit. The audacity of creating a “disorder” in which the staple hallmark is a history of abuse/rape/molestation, is just laziness on the part of the professionals. If someone is traumatized, it stands to reason their personality is gonna be very different from that of someone who wasn’t traumatized. Jebus. And with borderline, I think there’s even more disdain than there is with other disorders.

I could be in denial. But I’m not. Because when I’m not in a relationship I don’t have much of that borderline stuff going on even with the moods. Relationships aren’t my thing, I wish they were. It’s not a disorder simply because I don’t like living with others and it turns me nasty. Or downright evil when in a mood cycle. It’s my personality, and it’s not a problem for me, so why label it a disorder?

Perhaps I have my quirks that are unhealthy and could be a disorder. Oh, I must have my nemesis to rail against, of course, but I’m a superhero, I deserve it. (my super power is sarcasm.) Just so sick of the professionals insisting chemical imbalances are real, meds are the answer, then invalidating their own argument by shoving therapy down our throats as if we’re to blame for having mood disorders and anxiety. What the actual fuck.

And the way they hand out the bipolar diagnosis like passing out candy to trick or treaters when sometimes, people have a reason to be moody or a situational depression or anxiety bout. Then those of us who have suffered for years and years get bombarded with the situationals spewing their “I’m cured, let’s barf up rainbows!” bullshit. It’s not my goal to offend or dismiss anyone’s struggle. But it’s arrogant to go through a two year depression because your marriage broke up, you lost your job, and now after some pills and therapy you are all better so it must work that way for all and you’re gonna forcefeed it to me.

Okay, I’ve gone off on a tangent. Whatevs. My brain is filled with too much garbage and it must be spewed. I wish I could spew it in a more organized fashion but..Organized is not a word that describes me in the least. I am chaos in every way.

I don’t view it as a personality disorder.

I actually think all my quirks, good and bad, are what makes me, well, me. If people can’t appreciate that…Fuck ’em.

Back to my itchy welts courtesy of a bug that got in the screen. One bite, ten welts. I am frigging special. Oh, wait, that’s magical thinking, another disorder.

I reiterate…FUCK ‘EM.


16 Responses to “Sleepwalking”

  1. My moods change within a matter of seconds to minutes to hours, every day. They happen side by side with the big moods. I don’t have seasons, I don’t have warnings, and while many things are justified, I admit a lot aren’t (as far as my reactions go.) Today I wanted to cancel an appointment I had and the nurse tried to explain that my GP wanted to see me because it’s been 6 months and the doctor wants to talk with me about how I am doing on the psychiatric treatment. That pissed me off. It wasn’t like a small annoyance. I was full blown pissed, shooting lava, and completely beyond myself angry. I responded aggressively and told her to shove the appointment up her ass, and I also told her I would be looking for another doctor.

    Now that I am back to my non-Hulk self, I realize I was out of line. She wasn’t mean, she wasn’t saying she wouldn’t cancel, she was just reminding me about what I had already agreed with the doctor. I notice it. I have a faulty response mechanism. I react only in two ways: anger or panic, to everything.

    If my mother reminds me something, I bite her head off. Sometimes she reminds me because I ask her to, and I still bit her head off.

    My relationships are always, always unstable. And I have to admit that most of the time they have been there for me, they haven’t abandoned me, but I am the one who constantly believes they will, so I push them to either test their resolve or get rid of them before they hurt me. Experiencing what I have with D, who is by far one of the better choices of victim, I can definitely see that I have serious, serious issues. I am now wiser than to accept things with my ex fiancé were all my fault, but I am not blinded to what I have done to all my relationships either.

    I’m destructive, out of control, and easily triggered. I can get pissed by being asked how my day is. Things that shouldn’t piss me off do, things that should piss me off do, and the intensity with which I respond is never quite as proportional to what’s going on. Because me-me believes unworthy people shouldn’t even get a reaction from me. They do though. And I will not let it go.

    In many ways, based on just reading you for the last few months, I really just see a woman who has a firm sense of herself and doesn’t take people’s shit, much less their brainwashing intentions. Oh. And she has bipolar disorder. Granted I haven’t seen you at the worst with my eyes, so my opinion is limited to the text, but I truly believe you’re just a woman who doesn’t take shit and the world just isn’t used to females like you.

  2. My psychiatrist mentioned borderline personality disorder, but said that professionals are hesitant to diagnose personality disorders probably for the reasons you mention. My borderline tendencies tend to present only when I’m in a relationship too. But idk if it’s all because of being bipolar or not. It’s confusing.

    • I know I have limited social skills and the only real relationship example ever set for me was my parents’ 28 years of screaming I hate you b.s. So yeah, I have issues. Just find it odd that I’m so fabulous to my “partners” when I am manic, but become a monster during the depressions.
      Think they just prefer happy fun ball hypersexual Niki to “doesn’t get dressed for a week” Niki.
      I’m not a fan of the latter, either, but I have to deal with both. I don’t get to walk away.
      It is all confusing, and to this day, I think all the therapy has confused me more since every therapist seems to have a different diagnosis. But you’re getting help and it’s a start. It’s a liberating experience when you stabilize enough to realize you’re not crazy, there simply was an imbalance that needed corrected.

  3. I totally get all that you’re saying. I too am chaos-no rhyme or reason, it just is. Tired of sunshine spewing rainbow assfucks. Come live in our heads for a day. Yes my marriage imploded, but I had issues way before hand. I wonder about borderline myself, but I think that’s too much research for me. I tend to go off on weird tangents/impulses but it’s just my brain. I’ve been traumatized and no one seems to think that’s affected me. Assfucks. Triggers are triggers and all the CBT, DBT, desensitizing therapy doesn’t work for all. Just like meds-one size does not fit all. Rambling..brain is squishy this morning. Started my new meds yesterday…I wanna road trip outta here. I’ll bring you my atarax for your itching

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