You ever feel dead? You ever feel like that the things that once made you happy can't even give you joy anymore? I've felt like that. Multiple times. And part of me is still there right now.
Here's the thing about Bipolar Disorder: you go up and down. Imagine riding a drop tower at an amusement park, only it doesn't stop. You're always going up and down, up and down, even past the point of nausea. But that's only part of it. Sometimes the seats get stuck at the bottom, and you want to get out of the seat, but you're strapped in. You're stuck, and nothing you can do can bring you out.
I've felt stuck lately, especially in my writing. Sure, I've worked on ideas, and did some writing exercises, but little to no progress was made on my novels. I've been going to the doctor for my meds, and taking them properly. I've even started seeing a therapist. But it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel if you're in the blackest pits of depression.
When I went to the therapist, I learned a few things about myself that relieved me and terrified me at the same time. They gave me a lot of answers, but also raised a lot of questions, too.
Instead of Bipolar II Disorder, I actually have Bipolar I Disorder, which means that my episodes can last up to two weeks at a time.
There's also Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, triggered by a sexual assault which occurred a year ago. I'd have nightmares where I'd see their faces, or that same fear would creep up on me when I'm out in public, hiding, praying that they weren't there, that they wouldn't see me. And when the episodes from PTSD hit, they can also trigger Bipolar Disorder episodes.
And it doesn't help that on top of that, I'm also on the Autism Spectrum. It may not seem like it, but it's actually hard for me to talk to people; the way I act at book signings comes from a lot of coaching, both personal and from others. I can't read people or understand sarcasm; you have to tell me explicitly what you're trying to say, especially if you're joking or flirting. I could tell you everything about animation in film and as an art form; I've been called a walking encyclopedia. Hell, just last week, my boyfriend and my sisters and I were watching my favorite movie, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I was listing off facts left and right, quoting the movie from memory. I was even saying the names of the specific pieces from the score whenever they would begin playing, and singing along with the Latin choirs, and then going on to translating the Latin. Yeah, you might want to take a personal note not to let me watch animated films with you. Although I think if any of my books were turned into an animated film, I'd have a FIELD DAY with the commentary. XD
But sometimes sensory overloads can trigger an episode of Bipolar Disorder, which can cause me to work myself up to having a PTSD breakdown. And sometimes when I start talking about my interests, I'll work myself up to a slight hypomania. It's like a dangerous chain reaction, a triple threat, if you will.
I know I usually don't write stuff like this on this blog. I guess the main reason for this post is to just get all of this off of my chest. To be honest, I feel pretty raw right now, and a little shocked. That's probably what's thrown me off. Whatever you believe in or don't believe in, whether you pray or just send positive thoughts, I could really use those right now. You all have done so much for me, and I'm thankful that you all are there for me.
Love and Coffee cups,
Rebekah
