Overcoming Mental Illness

So there I am on a Friday afternoon in Melbourne.

Completely knackered.

It’s been a long day already and it’s only about 2pm!

I’ve been bothered by a nasty cold all week so my physical health is drained, and what with the myriad of other physical problems I deal with each day, colds are not at all just minor niggles for me. It hurts - and I mean hurts! An after effect of the fact I struggled to overcome glandular fever but that’s a whole other story!

I’m also going through this vicious mixed episode and the ridiculous roller coaster of manic-ups and treacherous lows every second, minute and hour of the day. Will I ever be able to just be on an even keel? But again, that’s a whole other story!

Thus my mood isn’t great when I haul my reasonably cute butt out of bed in the morning and go through the whole process of getting up and trying to battle on with the day ahead. Not easy at the moment. It would be easier should something be there to look forward to, but an early morning escapade to the outer eastern suburbs of Melbourne is not something to really look forward to when you’re battling mixed episodes, physical pain and physical illnesses. Anyhows, I have to do it all in 2 hours, due to momentarily forgetting that if you scan your 2hr metcard through the machines just after the hour it takes the 2 hours to be from the next hour (so if you swipe it at 10:01am it takes the two hours from 11am, thus you get three hours for the price of two - bargain! - whereas if you swipe it at 9:56am it takes it from 10am, which is what I did yesterday. Dope!)

I get out there, do my business of checking out places to live and have forced conversations to try and make myself out to be someone who at least has some reasonable grasp on his sanity. Not easy right now. And then have to rush back to the chaotic wonder of the city before the metcard runs out and I get slapped with either buying a new ticket or forced to pay a fine upwards of $150 because I didn’t think to wait five minutes!

By the time I drag my reasonably cute butt back to the hostel I’m completely knackered, legs wobbling from all the exertion and pain firing away from all corners of my body. It’s been like that for a fortnight really, so much to do, so little fun. So I end up leaning against the wall of the shower having a bit of a knackered cry before deciding to go down the self-harm route to at least give me the release I need to get through the rest of the day.

I don’t like doing it. Sometimes though when you’re working so hard and making so much effort and those mood swings keep oscillating I just end up doing it. Nothing too serious, a few slices here, a few cuts there. I have antiseptic wipes, plasters and bandages on hand to clean and wrap so it’s not as if I don’t know what I’m doing.

So when I get back to the room I am in a bit more pain than I had been before, but this is manageable pain, this was the pain I needed to help calm me down and refocus before my afternoon onslaught in the rebuilding of Addy’s life. I just hadn’t countered on an impromptu 45 minute phone interview which came with no warning.

Now remember all those old-adages about when you’re nervous imagine people naked. Well I was nervous, and keeping a close eye on the cuts and blood, but I wasn’t imagining the person at the end of the phone naked - I was naked. As I was through the whole interview, whilst trying not to let the blood drip too much onto the bed and whilst attempting to apply a bandage unsuccessfully with one hand. Not easy. In fact proved impossible. So I gave up at the 20minute mark and I’d deal with the pain and blood stain later, as long as I came off on the interview as reasonably sane.

Interview done I throw myself back down and check the cut, the blood has pretty much stopped but it hurts and it needs a wee bit of attention. So I grab the antiseptic wipes and being somewhat delirious from fatigue and emotional/mental exhaustion go to sort it out. BRING BRING. BRING BRING. Another phone call. Which I have to answer ’cause it’s the job agency I’m with so again have to sound all professional and with it, which I attempt, and sure the phone call becomes the most random I think I’ve ever been on the phone. All confused blabbering and incoherent speech. I can’t even really recall what I’d been saying. Annoyed with that I apply the treatment to my cuts, grab my jacket and swing out the room. (Or rather, when I say ’swing’ I mean hobble, as the majority of the cuts were on my leg so walking was a little difficult.)

I

Need

Alcohol

!

Which really isn’t a good idea given the mixed episode, cold, physical health issues, recent self harm, stressed mood and cavalcade of frustration: but after three whiskys and three Coopers I’m rather bouncy. Who wouldn’t be. After a fourth Coopers I’m positively, well, hyper, and well, manic. Hypermanic in fact.

I end up in my usual internet place randomly inviting anyone I fancy to be my Facebook and Myspace friends, typing obscure wall messages which I can’t remember and then cracking onto a few people in various different forms, forums and groups. I really don’t remember much after that aside from prancing around the city occasionally breaking into song and tap dance routines perfected in the Adelaide casino last year whilst cracking onto people in the flesh this time and getting the odd slap (good and bad) in return.

You see that’s why alcohol, medication, self harm, bipolar, physical & mental health problems do not a good combination make.

Alcohol is a depressant, but it’s one of those lovely and weird depressants which makes you high first - and with the on-sweep of emotion, fatigue, pain and ever-changing-moods I’d been experiencing all day - it was only ever gonna do two things. Make me too sick to move or induce a manic period. Fortunately the manic period has faded a little and as I type this am feeling what can only be described as a bitch of a hangover and ever so somewhat fading back into my shell of depressed loneliness.

At least though I know how to induce small periods of mania if I want to, maybe I should experiment and see if I can make them last longer, people seem to like me when I’m manic. I don’t like myself much, but other people take to me far more than when I’m just being “me”. Is there a lesson there I should learn? Maybe if I didn’t have a hangover I’d be able to see it a bit more clearly.

On the upside I have ended up with a few more Facebook friends, I have no idea who they are or anything about them but they’re there, and I’ve got a few more MySpace friends as well which is kinda cool. No fall out yet from the other stuff I did; haven’t quite had the nerve to check my messages yet.

Maybe later.

Maybe I’ll need some more Coopers afterwards :)