There's something about the end of the year. Oh it feels like I've said this already, but who cares? I'm determined to write all the way until I'm better. I want to be cured. Screw anyone who says there's no cure. There must be. God must love us enough to want us all to be happy. That's maybe why I believe that we all go to a happy place when we die. I'm so delusional. Except delusion sometimes makes people happy.
Dream big. They've been showing this stupid tagline on Star World all month long. Oh yeah yeah American Idol. Changes your life. Seriously, how can anything change? How can I wake up one day feeling like I can change the world, and the next day I feel like I can't even help myself? And again, I feel like I've said this before. Again and again, round and round, around a mulberry bush I go. So let me sum it all up: I'm sad.
I'm sad because I've done absolutely nothing good this year. The truth is, I gave up so much to do law because I really want to be a lawyer. I want to be a lawyer because I sincerely believe I can change the justice system, enhance it, and fight for human rights. Malik Imtiaz is one of my inspirations. I believe God gave me the gift of eloquence and I should use it to my maximum potential. And I really really want to be a lawyer. And then my second year came, and it was time for exams. I had a severe panic attack. The month before the exams I was crying and vomiting and huddling in bed and under desks. I needed a safe place to hide. By my third paper, I simply broke down. I called my mum and literally begged her to allow me to quit. See, all my life I had been the perfect student, scoring on average straight A's, got myself into a local university and graduated with (although not a first class) but with an above average CGPA. But I'm tired. I was just so afraid. And I had to let my dream go. Would I regret not being a lawyer? Of course. I just hope the day will come when I regain my confidence to do it again.
Right now, I'm worried of going for auditions because I'm worried I'll have a panic attack. I am, however, working on a production, and I'm thrilled and excited to be on board.
But back to this past year. I feel like I had just let my life pass me by. 2008 was a great year for me. If I could I would relive it all over again. But I can't. And 2009 hurt me a great deal. Maybe all my life of downs was compensated in 2008 and I have to wait for another ten years for it to come by again. Can I be that patient? I told myself that by the time I'm fourty and have achieved nothing in my life, I would take my own life. It's probably the only thing I really have control over. Dare I let God take control and kill me anytime he wants to? I feel like by choosing my own death, I can at least prepare myself, say goodbye to the ones that I love, and spend the rest of my days happily before saying goodbye for real. Does it really sound that delusional?
Whatever it is, I have a family to think about, and a fiance who loves me and friends whom I think care for me, so I have to face the coming year with a fake smile on my face. No parties this year; I'm in a down phase. I'd like to be around people, but some of my favourite people are off to another country, and some other of my favourite people are spending New Year's eve in another state, and the leftovers have yet to come back to me on what they will be doing.
So you know what? I'm going to spend New Year's eve alone with my fiance. We'll order some pizza, watch TV and hold hands (we're staying celibate after two pregnancy scares; in which one I had to take a urine test in a hospital after I started excreting milk from my breasts which I later found out was due to an antidepressant I was under). Too much information? I'm sorry.
After obsessing over my nose piercing for so long, I decided to yank at it because I really believed I could magically "move" it to another position (thinking back I think I was on my manic phase). It led to severe bleeding and an infection. I went to a piercing parlour today (a different one from where I got it pierced because the previous one used a gun, and I was on my manic phase and simply threw caution into the wind despite knowing it was dangerous) and the piercer had to remove the piercing to allow it to heal, before I can re-pierce it again.
So, it's a horrible way to end the year. Not to mention that our bed broke, and now my fiance and I have to sleep on the floor, because we can't afford a new bed for at least the next month or so.
Sigh.
I just want 2010 to come already, so that I can be rid of this "end of the year" December feeling. I hope strength comes at the last minute as a sign that God exists. He must! He must! I need to know this so I can continue living.
I just thought I'd share what I wrote in December 2006:
Wake me up when December ends
Another year has passed us by...
I know what I was doing a year ago. December 2005: Sobbing into my mother's arms, I apologised repeatedly because of what happened; because of my stupidity, foolishness and trust for someone that has brought trouble to me - some form of trouble that has troubled my family as well.
I know how was it like a year ago. It took me almost a year to find the courage to finally spill the beans. I had expected yelling matches. I had expected disappointment from my parents' part. I had expected them to hate me and to disown me.
"You did nothing wrong," they'd said. "All you did was place your trust on someone who betrayed that trust."
I trusted the wrong person. But how was I to know? The guilt was too overwhelming, the hurt from being betrayed too much to bear.
You place your trust on this person just once. Just once. Just once but it was too much.
Most people would be glad for December. It is, after all, a month of celebration (Christmas) and sales (year end sales). But when I'm out shopping or staring at the display in Midvalley, I feel nothing. Zilch. Empty. I look out and I see people taking pictures with the trees and I feel nothing. I look around and I see people laughing, chatting, throwing their hair away from their faces and I feel nothing.
I feel nothing because the old me died in December. A new me was born in December 2004, and died the following year. A new me was born again in December last year. And every December, I feel like another part of me dies and another part is reborn.
But how many "rebirths" can a person have? How many more Decembers do I have to go through before I can finally pose and smile in front of the ornaments or even enjoy the sales as they are? How many more Decembers do I have to go through before I can finally forget the ordeal I went through? How many more Decembers do I have to go through before I can finally let go of the past? How many more Decembers do I have to go through before I can finally forget...?
I may have forgiven him for what he did, but I will never forget.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
electroconvulsive therapy - a suggestion
I'm starting to get desperate. What bums me most is the fact that one minute I can be breaking down, brimming with tears, and the next: I am completely fine. Today was my second appointment with the new psychiatrist, whom we shall call Dr J. I must honestly say that I feel much more comfortable with this new doctor, because he listens and doesn't seem judgmental. I think I cried at least seven times in the span of 45 minutes to an hour that we spent in his office. It really is painful. I had a rough evening yesterday, and I ended up crying and huddling up in the couch while talking to my fiance. Sometimes I just break down for no particular reason. The doctor says that it's normal for people with bipolar disorder to feel down with no particular trigger. Symptoms like irritability and anxiety are among the symptoms of the "down" phase.
It was the little things that got to me: my nose piercing not being in the right place, my imperfections (including the scars I got from self-mutilation), how everyone else seems so mature and confident while I seem to be falling apart. He explained that even the most mature of persons may feel down, and the down phase is simply more painful for people suffering from bipolar disorder, most likely due to the rapid cycling phase (the ups and downs in spurts of now and then, I'd say).
I started opening up. I became more honest. I told him the truth - I wanted to die. I felt like it seemed too easy to just let go and that I believed that if I died, I would go to a happy place where everything will seem fine again. I know it sounded absurd, it still does, but I really do believe that when I die, I will go to a happy place and all these pain will just... go away.
Perhaps my desperation gave it all away - I suppose it was a cry for help. Maybe I want help. I mean, I don't know (which is also a phrase he suggested I stopped using, maybe he thought I should acknowledge how I really felt to deal with it). But I really don't know. At one point or another, I feel like letting someone help me would make me feel better again. But sometimes, I worry about losing control. I need to get what little control I have of my life.
Dr J suggested a "quick fix" for my suicidal thoughts - electroconvulsive therapy. According to him, I would have to be hospitalised for two weeks while I undergo a series of four to six sessions of electroconvulsive shocks. These shocks will send signals to my body, I may experience seizure and memory loss. I might not recall incidences that happened the day before, or hours before. I may become disoriented, but he claims that the success rate is 100%. Of course, he said that there would be risks when it comes to anesthesia. My fiance wanted me admitted immediately, I think he was really worried for me. But I wanted to take some time to think about it; it is, after all, a decision that would mean I have to let someone else take control. He said, right before we left, that sometimes I should "let others take control". I think he's probably right. He also mentioned to JJ that he should monitor my medication intake just in case I decide to overdose on them. That actually put a smile on my face.
Anyway, I put some thought into what he said and did some research. Wikipedia's the most convenient place to obtain information and this is what I got:
"Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), also known as electroshock, is a well-established, albeit controversial, psychiatric treatment in which seizures are electrically induced in anesthetized patients for therapeutic effect. Today, ECT is most often used as a treatment for severe major depression which has not responded to other treatment,[1] and is also used in the treatment of mania (often in bipolar disorder), catatonia and schizophrenia. It was first introduced in the 1930s[2] and gained widespread use as a form of treatment in the 1940s and 1950s; today, an estimated 1 million people worldwide receive ECT every year,[3] usually in a course of 6–12 treatments administered 2 or 3 times a week."
They also name cognitive deficits and memory loss as side effects of the therapy. And some famous names who have subscribed to this method of therapy include Judy Garland, Carrie Fisher (yes, yes it's Princess Leia), Paulo Coelho, Ernest Hemingway, Sylvia Plath, Vivien Leigh, Yves Saint-Laurent and Edie Sedgwick.
Given the long list of names of people who have undergone this form of therapy, I would personally consider it if the situation gets worse. The only sad truth is that I may not be capable of making that decision when I am at my lowest point. Dr J, did, however, mention that I could get admitted without going through the therapy in case I needed to be monitored. I would like to think that I still have little control over my mind, and with some motivation and strength, I pray that I will be able to get through, with or without medication.
As an update, I am now on Remeron, Lamictal, Lexapro, Rivotril, Xanax and I've just started on Lithium. I would update the dosages later, and will update accordingly on whether they work. If anyone is reading this at all, and especially if you're going through the same condition as I am, share with me your thoughts please. I feel so alone, and I don't want to be alone. There must be someone out there who knows what I'm feeling.
Until then, love to all. And goodnight. I certainly hope I would be able to get some sleep tonight.
It was the little things that got to me: my nose piercing not being in the right place, my imperfections (including the scars I got from self-mutilation), how everyone else seems so mature and confident while I seem to be falling apart. He explained that even the most mature of persons may feel down, and the down phase is simply more painful for people suffering from bipolar disorder, most likely due to the rapid cycling phase (the ups and downs in spurts of now and then, I'd say).
I started opening up. I became more honest. I told him the truth - I wanted to die. I felt like it seemed too easy to just let go and that I believed that if I died, I would go to a happy place where everything will seem fine again. I know it sounded absurd, it still does, but I really do believe that when I die, I will go to a happy place and all these pain will just... go away.
Perhaps my desperation gave it all away - I suppose it was a cry for help. Maybe I want help. I mean, I don't know (which is also a phrase he suggested I stopped using, maybe he thought I should acknowledge how I really felt to deal with it). But I really don't know. At one point or another, I feel like letting someone help me would make me feel better again. But sometimes, I worry about losing control. I need to get what little control I have of my life.
Dr J suggested a "quick fix" for my suicidal thoughts - electroconvulsive therapy. According to him, I would have to be hospitalised for two weeks while I undergo a series of four to six sessions of electroconvulsive shocks. These shocks will send signals to my body, I may experience seizure and memory loss. I might not recall incidences that happened the day before, or hours before. I may become disoriented, but he claims that the success rate is 100%. Of course, he said that there would be risks when it comes to anesthesia. My fiance wanted me admitted immediately, I think he was really worried for me. But I wanted to take some time to think about it; it is, after all, a decision that would mean I have to let someone else take control. He said, right before we left, that sometimes I should "let others take control". I think he's probably right. He also mentioned to JJ that he should monitor my medication intake just in case I decide to overdose on them. That actually put a smile on my face.
Anyway, I put some thought into what he said and did some research. Wikipedia's the most convenient place to obtain information and this is what I got:
"Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), also known as electroshock, is a well-established, albeit controversial, psychiatric treatment in which seizures are electrically induced in anesthetized patients for therapeutic effect. Today, ECT is most often used as a treatment for severe major depression which has not responded to other treatment,[1] and is also used in the treatment of mania (often in bipolar disorder), catatonia and schizophrenia. It was first introduced in the 1930s[2] and gained widespread use as a form of treatment in the 1940s and 1950s; today, an estimated 1 million people worldwide receive ECT every year,[3] usually in a course of 6–12 treatments administered 2 or 3 times a week."
They also name cognitive deficits and memory loss as side effects of the therapy. And some famous names who have subscribed to this method of therapy include Judy Garland, Carrie Fisher (yes, yes it's Princess Leia), Paulo Coelho, Ernest Hemingway, Sylvia Plath, Vivien Leigh, Yves Saint-Laurent and Edie Sedgwick.
Given the long list of names of people who have undergone this form of therapy, I would personally consider it if the situation gets worse. The only sad truth is that I may not be capable of making that decision when I am at my lowest point. Dr J, did, however, mention that I could get admitted without going through the therapy in case I needed to be monitored. I would like to think that I still have little control over my mind, and with some motivation and strength, I pray that I will be able to get through, with or without medication.
As an update, I am now on Remeron, Lamictal, Lexapro, Rivotril, Xanax and I've just started on Lithium. I would update the dosages later, and will update accordingly on whether they work. If anyone is reading this at all, and especially if you're going through the same condition as I am, share with me your thoughts please. I feel so alone, and I don't want to be alone. There must be someone out there who knows what I'm feeling.
Until then, love to all. And goodnight. I certainly hope I would be able to get some sleep tonight.
Monday, December 28, 2009
addiction
I'm sitting here after lunch/dinner and I feel like puking. I think it's wired in my brain that I need to, although logically my brain tells me I shouldn't. Breathing exercises help me control the urges, but I also know I should stay away from the bathroom, just in case I lose control. A lot of people think that we choose this, but more often than not, it is difficult to simply stop it. It's like an addiction, I need to do it to feel better. And I feel nauseous and jittery waiting for the wave to pass.
For some reason, I am feeling a little down today. When I am on the downs of my bipolar disorder, I sometimes feel like I don't want to do anything - I usually end up just lying in bed, waiting for the feeling to go away. The clock ticks ever so slowly, and time seems to pass by so slowly. But you know it's going to go away. The only question is when. And it's just so hard to wait. I think I'm just being impatient. That is how I ended up sleeping the entire day, waking up at 5pm and feeling a heavy pull in my heart. I want to know the medications are working, but there is no indication that it is. JJ says he notices some changes, but I hardly feel any changes at all. I still feel the same.
I've been having dreams that are violently sexually charged. I've yet to act out on them, I'm being celibate after all. But these dreams drive me crazy. I wake up, and they instantly disappear - the urges as well as the repressed feelings. I need to wake up and see the world as it is. That, however, is too painful to bear.
For some reason, I am feeling a little down today. When I am on the downs of my bipolar disorder, I sometimes feel like I don't want to do anything - I usually end up just lying in bed, waiting for the feeling to go away. The clock ticks ever so slowly, and time seems to pass by so slowly. But you know it's going to go away. The only question is when. And it's just so hard to wait. I think I'm just being impatient. That is how I ended up sleeping the entire day, waking up at 5pm and feeling a heavy pull in my heart. I want to know the medications are working, but there is no indication that it is. JJ says he notices some changes, but I hardly feel any changes at all. I still feel the same.
I've been having dreams that are violently sexually charged. I've yet to act out on them, I'm being celibate after all. But these dreams drive me crazy. I wake up, and they instantly disappear - the urges as well as the repressed feelings. I need to wake up and see the world as it is. That, however, is too painful to bear.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
obsession
It's funny how you tend to focus on the smaller problems in life when you have bigger issues. Like battling bipolar disorder. Or the fact that you're still fat despite eating much less.
Right now, I'm obsessing over my nose piercing. See, I finally remembered why it took me so long to get my nose pierced - I always thought my nose was ugly. The problem is, I still do, though. And with the nose stud in place, I look at photos and find that it exaggerates the shortness and roundness of my nose. I'm thinking of re-piercing it a little backwards so it doesn't appear too round. But then I start obsessing about the fact that I may not like the new placing, or what if it gets infected, or what if it migrates and ends up in the same spot as the old one.
I don't like obsessing over the small things, but it really feels significant. I mean, this is my face and I see it every day, and what little control I have over the way I look, I'm taking it, man! Right now I even feel like just walking to the bathroom and poking a new hole with my own needle. Rationality is sometimes thrown out the window. I actually wonder why I haven't actually done that.
My mood for today is just... difficult to explain. It's not high it's not low, it's just... somewhere in between. More on the upset part, actually. Although yesterday I did overreact when an argument ensued resulting in me jumping out of the car at a traffic light. I always feel like I need to run away. Between yesterday and today, I have thought of suicide at least five times. I want to just swallow some pills and get it over with.
Right now, I'm obsessing over my nose piercing. See, I finally remembered why it took me so long to get my nose pierced - I always thought my nose was ugly. The problem is, I still do, though. And with the nose stud in place, I look at photos and find that it exaggerates the shortness and roundness of my nose. I'm thinking of re-piercing it a little backwards so it doesn't appear too round. But then I start obsessing about the fact that I may not like the new placing, or what if it gets infected, or what if it migrates and ends up in the same spot as the old one.
I don't like obsessing over the small things, but it really feels significant. I mean, this is my face and I see it every day, and what little control I have over the way I look, I'm taking it, man! Right now I even feel like just walking to the bathroom and poking a new hole with my own needle. Rationality is sometimes thrown out the window. I actually wonder why I haven't actually done that.
My mood for today is just... difficult to explain. It's not high it's not low, it's just... somewhere in between. More on the upset part, actually. Although yesterday I did overreact when an argument ensued resulting in me jumping out of the car at a traffic light. I always feel like I need to run away. Between yesterday and today, I have thought of suicide at least five times. I want to just swallow some pills and get it over with.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
i have nothing
The end of the year bites me like a scorpion. It really stings, and hurts for days, if not weeks. I look back at past achievements, and often feel so small, like I've done nothing at all. I woke up this morning with a nightmare; I remembered something many others may have forgotten. December 2004, the day my car was stolen from me by a person I considered friend and trusted; the same day the Indian Ocean tsunami hit most of Indonesia, India, Sri Lanka and Thailand and several other countries including Malaysia. It was Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. Every year, I am reminded of this incident and I feel instantly down. While everyone else is celebrating around the world, there are people who are reminded of their lost loved ones, and are feeling sad around the world. How do we really move on?
The Christmas lights blink in front of my eyes. I see them clearly, even when I am not looking. The path of emptiness is one I have to travel alone. So maybe I can help what I think, but I can't help what I feel. But life has to go on, even if betrayal and hurt line my past and eat into my soul day after day. I have loved and lost. I have trusted friends and been hurt. But today, I am loved. Shouldn't I be thankful and just be happy? But why can't I?
It's raining outside and my stomach hurts like crazy. I woke up bloated again today, possibly from consuming a lot of food yesterday. There's not a day without bloating and it really gets to me. It may seem like a normal thing, but seriously, when my stomach is bloated I can sometimes look like I'm at least three months pregnant. It's really demotivating, and pulls me down, and everything I try on doesn't seem to help. I can't wear most of my clothes; either they don't fit or they make me look pregnant. I've been hiding them under loose and baggy clothes. The weight gain doesn't help too, really. I really can't wear at least 70% of the clothes in my closet and I feel so hopeless. I just want to be cured of everything. I want my bipolar disorder to go away so I can be happy and really enjoy Christmas and all the other days in the year. I want my weight to go away, so I can be thin and enjoy looking at myself again, and I don't have to resort to vomiting to be thin. I want my bloating to go away, so I can wear clothes that are tight around the tummy, or to be able to show off my cute belly button ring.
But God doesn't seem to listen. And I am beginning to feel impatient. So really, what do I do now?
The Christmas lights blink in front of my eyes. I see them clearly, even when I am not looking. The path of emptiness is one I have to travel alone. So maybe I can help what I think, but I can't help what I feel. But life has to go on, even if betrayal and hurt line my past and eat into my soul day after day. I have loved and lost. I have trusted friends and been hurt. But today, I am loved. Shouldn't I be thankful and just be happy? But why can't I?
It's raining outside and my stomach hurts like crazy. I woke up bloated again today, possibly from consuming a lot of food yesterday. There's not a day without bloating and it really gets to me. It may seem like a normal thing, but seriously, when my stomach is bloated I can sometimes look like I'm at least three months pregnant. It's really demotivating, and pulls me down, and everything I try on doesn't seem to help. I can't wear most of my clothes; either they don't fit or they make me look pregnant. I've been hiding them under loose and baggy clothes. The weight gain doesn't help too, really. I really can't wear at least 70% of the clothes in my closet and I feel so hopeless. I just want to be cured of everything. I want my bipolar disorder to go away so I can be happy and really enjoy Christmas and all the other days in the year. I want my weight to go away, so I can be thin and enjoy looking at myself again, and I don't have to resort to vomiting to be thin. I want my bloating to go away, so I can wear clothes that are tight around the tummy, or to be able to show off my cute belly button ring.
But God doesn't seem to listen. And I am beginning to feel impatient. So really, what do I do now?
Friday, December 25, 2009
christmas is here...
Okay, so perhaps my last posting was a little uncalled for. We managed to clean up the house a bit, and decorated the front door, and everything is all good. My fiance and I went to my uncle's house last night (since it's already morning), and just got back about an hour ago. It was great fun singing Christmas songs. I love Christmas songs. And I love singing. So the combination of Christmas songs and singing them seem fun. Especially with lots of people.
It was also a time for our families to get together and get to know each other, so yeah we brought our parents (or rather, his dad and my mum) to get to know each other. There was a Christmas tree, lots of food, and cake. And I think I am rather on the high right now, which is probably why it would take me some effort to fall asleep.
Merry Christmas, everyone! And before you know it, it'll be New Year's!
It was also a time for our families to get together and get to know each other, so yeah we brought our parents (or rather, his dad and my mum) to get to know each other. There was a Christmas tree, lots of food, and cake. And I think I am rather on the high right now, which is probably why it would take me some effort to fall asleep.
Merry Christmas, everyone! And before you know it, it'll be New Year's!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
rubbish, rubbish, all around
I honestly hate it when people use my bipolar disorder as an excuse to not do something. I've been awake since earlier today, while my fiance JJ continued to sleep until almost 4pm. What irritates me is the fact that we have a tea time appointment at 4pm with his dad and his granny, and he's completely oblivious to the fact that: a) we might be late, b) we've yet to put up decorations for the party tomorrow, and c) the house is very unkempt, and not to mention we have a dinner with my family at 8pm tonight. The dishes are piling up in the sink, and I've to do them, sweep the floor, mop the floor, take out the trash, etc. There are worksheets all over the front table (his, not mine), and pizza boxes and medications (his, not mine) all over the dining table. And he's taking it so calmly. The fact that his dad is staying over tonight also means that it'll be harder to clean the house while he's around, and we should have the house clean by then.
But JJ just woke up, and went straight to take a shower, which means that the tasks fall completely on me. I hate domestication and the fact that the "woman" has to do all the chores of the house, even though the "woman" also has to work a day job. How is this fair?
And then he uses the excuse that I "do not live in the now". And to "live in the now", he was going to take a shower and figure out the cleaning up later. What rubbish! I mean, sure, I may be ridden with some sickness but that doesn't mean that I don't function like a normal human being. And normal human beings feel irritated too when their fiance decides to wake up so late in the evening (which is so abnormal) and then go on doing his normal business without caring about the house. I mean, WTF! At this point of time, I must officially say that I hate men. And sometimes I don't know why I officially put myself as a slave to any man - apparently commitment puts you through that. Sure, it's different if you have a husband/boyfriend/fiance who co-operates with you, but otherwise having such a relationship is too difficult.
So yeah, Christmas eve may be today, and Christmas may be tomorrow, but I'm not the most excited person in the world. Santa can leave me alone, thank you very much.
But JJ just woke up, and went straight to take a shower, which means that the tasks fall completely on me. I hate domestication and the fact that the "woman" has to do all the chores of the house, even though the "woman" also has to work a day job. How is this fair?
And then he uses the excuse that I "do not live in the now". And to "live in the now", he was going to take a shower and figure out the cleaning up later. What rubbish! I mean, sure, I may be ridden with some sickness but that doesn't mean that I don't function like a normal human being. And normal human beings feel irritated too when their fiance decides to wake up so late in the evening (which is so abnormal) and then go on doing his normal business without caring about the house. I mean, WTF! At this point of time, I must officially say that I hate men. And sometimes I don't know why I officially put myself as a slave to any man - apparently commitment puts you through that. Sure, it's different if you have a husband/boyfriend/fiance who co-operates with you, but otherwise having such a relationship is too difficult.
So yeah, Christmas eve may be today, and Christmas may be tomorrow, but I'm not the most excited person in the world. Santa can leave me alone, thank you very much.
a second opinion
Today, I went to see another psychiatrist to obtain a second opinion. He confirmed that it was definitely bipolar disorder; there was no doubt about it. But I must say, I feel more comfortable with this doctor, and he's willing to talk and listen, and even has a witty sense of humour, which I believe would be very helpful towards my condition. I have decided to stick with this new doctor, and will be seeing him again soon. I like his nonchalant way of looking at things. When I told him I was also bulimic, he nonchalantly said that it was okay as long as I didn't vomit my medications out. And then he went on to explain that the bulimia issue would have to be resolved after this bipolar disorder was better managed.
I liked the fact that my mother and fiance were both there to support me - two of the most important people of my pathetic life. I actually feel like I am someone when I am with them, otherwise I feel so small and useless. The doctor explained that people with bipolar disorder need better medication to control the lows, because when people with bipolar disorder experienced lows, they feel much much lower than people with unipolar depression. Bipolar is starting to sound much scarier, honestly. I was mainly just crying in his office, not being able to say anything or answer his questions. I felt like I was put in the witness stand, and really, thank God for JJ for answering all the doctor's questions.
He asked if I hear voices or experience psychosis, and he asked if I feel like I have magical powers while I'm on my highs. I guess I never really gave much thought to it - I usually don't realise much when I'm on my highs, but I realise now that whenever I opened my windows whenever I felt high, I sometimes believed that I could fly. I would have idealistic views like wanting to open a school, a cafe, a bakery, a blogshop, anything! But when the lows hit, I instantly crawl back into my comfort zone and feel lowly, as if I cannot do anything. It is self-demoralising, and very devastating. It's like constantly having a battle with my own self.
The medications have been increased, and he suggested adding on lithium to the combination. He gave three options, and told me to go home to think about them. I guess I'll have to make my decision, and he'll deliberate. I told the doctor I needed someone I could reach whenever I was feeling down - I needed someone reliable. He gave me his cellphone number and told me I could call him before 5pm every day, but even if it's after I could still send him a text message and he would reply me or call me the day after. It was reassuring.
I have faith that this time around, it will work. I've been battling this since I was 16, I really want to know that there is an end to this. I have read that there is no cure for bipolar disorder, but I am hopeful - I want to believe that I could at least live a more fulfilling life despite this disorder. I want to have more high days than the lows.
On another note, I changed my new nose piercing today and it started to bleed. I actually realise I enjoy the pain, because it makes me feel alive. I need to feel alive so badly sometimes, I would die for it. That's the irony of my life.
Until my next posting, I'll keep my fingers crossed that tomorrow will be a better day. If you are reading this, I would really appreciate it if you could keep me in your thoughts and prayers.
I liked the fact that my mother and fiance were both there to support me - two of the most important people of my pathetic life. I actually feel like I am someone when I am with them, otherwise I feel so small and useless. The doctor explained that people with bipolar disorder need better medication to control the lows, because when people with bipolar disorder experienced lows, they feel much much lower than people with unipolar depression. Bipolar is starting to sound much scarier, honestly. I was mainly just crying in his office, not being able to say anything or answer his questions. I felt like I was put in the witness stand, and really, thank God for JJ for answering all the doctor's questions.
He asked if I hear voices or experience psychosis, and he asked if I feel like I have magical powers while I'm on my highs. I guess I never really gave much thought to it - I usually don't realise much when I'm on my highs, but I realise now that whenever I opened my windows whenever I felt high, I sometimes believed that I could fly. I would have idealistic views like wanting to open a school, a cafe, a bakery, a blogshop, anything! But when the lows hit, I instantly crawl back into my comfort zone and feel lowly, as if I cannot do anything. It is self-demoralising, and very devastating. It's like constantly having a battle with my own self.
The medications have been increased, and he suggested adding on lithium to the combination. He gave three options, and told me to go home to think about them. I guess I'll have to make my decision, and he'll deliberate. I told the doctor I needed someone I could reach whenever I was feeling down - I needed someone reliable. He gave me his cellphone number and told me I could call him before 5pm every day, but even if it's after I could still send him a text message and he would reply me or call me the day after. It was reassuring.
I have faith that this time around, it will work. I've been battling this since I was 16, I really want to know that there is an end to this. I have read that there is no cure for bipolar disorder, but I am hopeful - I want to believe that I could at least live a more fulfilling life despite this disorder. I want to have more high days than the lows.
On another note, I changed my new nose piercing today and it started to bleed. I actually realise I enjoy the pain, because it makes me feel alive. I need to feel alive so badly sometimes, I would die for it. That's the irony of my life.
Until my next posting, I'll keep my fingers crossed that tomorrow will be a better day. If you are reading this, I would really appreciate it if you could keep me in your thoughts and prayers.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
purging
I forced myself to puke again today. Stuck my finger down my throat, and it felt really good after. I started off the day wanting to change, hoping that I could somehow hold it all in. But whenever I eat, I feel guilty for eating. I can't help how I feel.
Battling bulimia is not something new for me. It started when I was about 14 in secondary school. I had to take steroids to cure my asthma (which still bothers me till today), and my weight just ballooned uncontrollably. I discovered bulimia via the beauty of the internet. I was on Bolt.com (which is now dysfunctional) and found out that someone forced herself to vomit to lose weight and that it really worked. The best thing about it was that it was hard for people to notice what you were doing unless you told them. But back then, it was an occasional purge once in a while, anytime I felt too fat or if I felt like I ate too much.
The condition became worse when I was 19. I had just finished STPM, and the stress of waiting for the results killed me. I felt like a piece of Chipsmore cookie in a cup of milk, just melting away with few trace of ever being. That was the way my body worked too. I would vomit after every meal, until one day I weighed myself and realised I was a bare 33kgs at the height of 153cms. I knew I needed help. Together with my troubled mind at the time (the stress of waiting for my STPM results made me depressed), I had to see a psychiatrist who told me, like everyone else, that forcing myself to puke was wrong. But how do I tell myself that it is wrong when it feels so right?
Being bulimic to me is no big deal, really. I would occasionally throw up when I feel like I've overeaten, but I haven't been doing it for a long, long time until recently. I recently put on 14kgs in one year, and started going into a downward spiral (which was also due to my law degree pursuit that ended with me going into depression mode). About a week ago, I just decided I would throw up to try to lose some weight. But once I started, I couldn't stop. I made a mistake my mentioning it to me fiance and mother on Sunday, because now I feel paranoid that they will try to stop me. A part of me, though, wants to stop. But today I just couldn't help it. I had eaten a lot of pizza and dessert and the best way was to purge my body of them. It seemed so easy to just puke these days, sometimes I don't even have to put my fingers in my throat. It feels like second nature sometimes.
A part of me knows that I am wrong, but I hate making excuses for myself and I am guilty as charged. I feel fat whenever I look at myself in the mirror, and I see my arms as being huge tree trunks and watching the TV or going out make me feel horrible. I look around and everywhere I see thin people, who seem so happy. I am just plain slouchy, fat and ugly. Some people say otherwise, but how can I help how I feel? This is what I see, and that's the end of the story.
I am willing to try other methods to rid myself of this fat, but how much do I need to lose to feel okay again? And what if I'll never feel okay? I am so worried about the future, I feel like I'm losing grip sometimes. I don't need help or reassurance. I need someone to look at me and say, "You are so fat you deserve to die."
Right now, I am feeling faint. I feel weak everytime after I force myself to puke. I'd feel dizzy sometimes, and I'd just go lie down. I sleep more because I feel more tired, and the antidepressants don't help, at least not in convincing me that I will be okay, even if I were fat.
I just long for the day when I could be thin again, and then I can stop this bullshit of a habit.
Battling bulimia is not something new for me. It started when I was about 14 in secondary school. I had to take steroids to cure my asthma (which still bothers me till today), and my weight just ballooned uncontrollably. I discovered bulimia via the beauty of the internet. I was on Bolt.com (which is now dysfunctional) and found out that someone forced herself to vomit to lose weight and that it really worked. The best thing about it was that it was hard for people to notice what you were doing unless you told them. But back then, it was an occasional purge once in a while, anytime I felt too fat or if I felt like I ate too much.
The condition became worse when I was 19. I had just finished STPM, and the stress of waiting for the results killed me. I felt like a piece of Chipsmore cookie in a cup of milk, just melting away with few trace of ever being. That was the way my body worked too. I would vomit after every meal, until one day I weighed myself and realised I was a bare 33kgs at the height of 153cms. I knew I needed help. Together with my troubled mind at the time (the stress of waiting for my STPM results made me depressed), I had to see a psychiatrist who told me, like everyone else, that forcing myself to puke was wrong. But how do I tell myself that it is wrong when it feels so right?
Being bulimic to me is no big deal, really. I would occasionally throw up when I feel like I've overeaten, but I haven't been doing it for a long, long time until recently. I recently put on 14kgs in one year, and started going into a downward spiral (which was also due to my law degree pursuit that ended with me going into depression mode). About a week ago, I just decided I would throw up to try to lose some weight. But once I started, I couldn't stop. I made a mistake my mentioning it to me fiance and mother on Sunday, because now I feel paranoid that they will try to stop me. A part of me, though, wants to stop. But today I just couldn't help it. I had eaten a lot of pizza and dessert and the best way was to purge my body of them. It seemed so easy to just puke these days, sometimes I don't even have to put my fingers in my throat. It feels like second nature sometimes.
A part of me knows that I am wrong, but I hate making excuses for myself and I am guilty as charged. I feel fat whenever I look at myself in the mirror, and I see my arms as being huge tree trunks and watching the TV or going out make me feel horrible. I look around and everywhere I see thin people, who seem so happy. I am just plain slouchy, fat and ugly. Some people say otherwise, but how can I help how I feel? This is what I see, and that's the end of the story.
I am willing to try other methods to rid myself of this fat, but how much do I need to lose to feel okay again? And what if I'll never feel okay? I am so worried about the future, I feel like I'm losing grip sometimes. I don't need help or reassurance. I need someone to look at me and say, "You are so fat you deserve to die."
Right now, I am feeling faint. I feel weak everytime after I force myself to puke. I'd feel dizzy sometimes, and I'd just go lie down. I sleep more because I feel more tired, and the antidepressants don't help, at least not in convincing me that I will be okay, even if I were fat.
I just long for the day when I could be thin again, and then I can stop this bullshit of a habit.
holding it in
I know this isn't much of a start or an introduction, but I suppose I'll start off by explaining a little about this blog. I want to write about the conditions I am forced to live with. I call them the three B's - bipolar disorder, bulimia, and bloating (or Irritable Bowel Syndrome).
Today's post is about the bipolar disorder I have to live with. It's now 12.53am, and the past two days have been eventful. You see, I never asked for bipolar disorder to happen to me; I was chosen instead. All my life, it has been my constant companion.
I don't want to start at the very beginning, but I will write as I go along, and see where this takes me. I want people to know more about my condition, and how it affects me and the people around me, especially the ones I love.
The most recent attack happened on Sunday. On Sunday, I woke up feeling low. I tried to shrug the feeling away but I just couldn't. See, the funny thing is, even as I'm writing this, I have somehow blocked off the memory of the events that have taken place. I simply cannot remember. I have to really squeeze my memory to try to remember the sequence of events. So I woke up on Sunday and felt really low. This is the kind of low one feels when feeling squeamish and sick in the guts. To avoid feeling horrible, I tried to put my mind off things by working. I thought that if I cleaned the house, I would be able to put the feeling aside. But I couldn't. I cried in the arms of my fiance, JJ, but what really ticked me off was the moment when I complained about my weight, he said, "You are not gaining weight. You are a constant 54 (kg)."
God knows what happened next but something like a time bomb just went off. I kicked him hard and a struggle ensued. I wanted to open the door to the balcony and jump off but he tried to stop me. That made me even madder. He said, "Grow up. Stop having all these fits". That really upset me even more. I knew I had to get away, and I locked myself in the room.
Suddenly it felt as if I could make a rational decision. I called my friend and told her to pick me up so I could check myself into the hospital. I thought a few days away would fix things or make me feel better. Then she came, and I was reluctant of staying away. But I went to the hospital anyway with the hopes of seeing my psychiatrist. They couldn't summon him, and I didn't feel like going home. The thought of seeing JJ repulsed me. It made me sick to the stomach. I was hurt and didn't want to face him.
We went to watch a play instead, and I went home, thinking I would just ignore him. But he didn't leave me alone and asked me a whole bunch of questions instead. So I lost it, and blurted it all out. "I have been throwing up for an entire week everytime after I ate", "I hate you, and I feel sick when I see you", "You disgust me". I ran out the door and my mum called. A lengthy conversation didn't make me feel better, it just made me feel worse. A friend came to my rescue, and we sat in his car for hours just talking. I felt better, but this wasn't the first time I felt that way. It would come and go, come and go, without my control. This was something I have very little control of.
Everyone says we go through ups and downs every now and then, but it is hard to explain to people what I feel. I don't control the ups or downs, they come as they like and go as they like. I could wake up one morning feeling numb, then feeling ecstatic, then going from happy to sad like there's a switch in my head. I would do things one day, and wake up the next day feeling regretful over what I've done. I had my nose pierced three weeks ago during a bout of high; I knew getting a piercing with a gun was dangerous, but I did it anyway. I couldn't rationalise when I am riding on my high, or even on my low. I have thought of suicide, swallowing pills just to make it all go away. I would think that if I died, I would go someplace else where everyone is happy. But who am I kidding? Soon after, the door opens and I have to face the world again. I have tried to look for others like me out there, but I have yet to know another (at least not very well). I have looked up "support groups" online, but all I read is about people who have to give up their jobs and lives to deal with this condition. This is not what I want for myself.
I know famous people like Vincent van Gogh and Virginia Woolf lived with it, and created beautiful works. But let's look at Vincent; he cut off his own ear and sent it to his lover, and Virginia; she drowned herself to death by putting pebbles in her pockets. I don't want to end up like either of them, even if it meant I would produce great works in my life (which, due to my low self confidence, I doubt every day). I need people to know that there are people like me in this world, and we try everyday to be happy but it's just harder. Believe me, if we had a choice, we would want to be happy.
Perhaps it is not sympathy that we want. This is not self-pity. I simply want people to understand that sometimes, I really don't have a choice. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night crying and I cannot understand why. I only know one thing's for sure: I have to live with it, or die with it. I want to be cured, and I'm hoping that this blog will chronicle my conquering of this disease, and if I will never be fully cured, I hope that people like me are able to read this blog and understand themselves better, and for people who love them to try to know what they are facing. Perhaps all I hope from this is some awareness. I am hopeful; I want to be cured, and I want to write (hopefully) every day until I finally am able to be cured of this condition.
I want to be hopeful. I want to live. Today, I managed to hold in food for the first time in at least one week. I ate a meal and naturally instincts kicked in to throw up, but with support from JJ, I managed to sit down, sip a little water, while telling myself not to. It's not easy, everyday's a struggle, but I know I will try. As you can see, today's note ends on a high, but I dare not say the same for tomorrow. But I will just be hopeful.
Goodnight, world. And I hope that if you read this and know someone living with bipolar disorder or bulimia, give your loved one/friend/family member a hug, because they really need it. More than anything, they need your patience and understanding and love.
Love,
Sharon
Today's post is about the bipolar disorder I have to live with. It's now 12.53am, and the past two days have been eventful. You see, I never asked for bipolar disorder to happen to me; I was chosen instead. All my life, it has been my constant companion.
I don't want to start at the very beginning, but I will write as I go along, and see where this takes me. I want people to know more about my condition, and how it affects me and the people around me, especially the ones I love.
The most recent attack happened on Sunday. On Sunday, I woke up feeling low. I tried to shrug the feeling away but I just couldn't. See, the funny thing is, even as I'm writing this, I have somehow blocked off the memory of the events that have taken place. I simply cannot remember. I have to really squeeze my memory to try to remember the sequence of events. So I woke up on Sunday and felt really low. This is the kind of low one feels when feeling squeamish and sick in the guts. To avoid feeling horrible, I tried to put my mind off things by working. I thought that if I cleaned the house, I would be able to put the feeling aside. But I couldn't. I cried in the arms of my fiance, JJ, but what really ticked me off was the moment when I complained about my weight, he said, "You are not gaining weight. You are a constant 54 (kg)."
God knows what happened next but something like a time bomb just went off. I kicked him hard and a struggle ensued. I wanted to open the door to the balcony and jump off but he tried to stop me. That made me even madder. He said, "Grow up. Stop having all these fits". That really upset me even more. I knew I had to get away, and I locked myself in the room.
Suddenly it felt as if I could make a rational decision. I called my friend and told her to pick me up so I could check myself into the hospital. I thought a few days away would fix things or make me feel better. Then she came, and I was reluctant of staying away. But I went to the hospital anyway with the hopes of seeing my psychiatrist. They couldn't summon him, and I didn't feel like going home. The thought of seeing JJ repulsed me. It made me sick to the stomach. I was hurt and didn't want to face him.
We went to watch a play instead, and I went home, thinking I would just ignore him. But he didn't leave me alone and asked me a whole bunch of questions instead. So I lost it, and blurted it all out. "I have been throwing up for an entire week everytime after I ate", "I hate you, and I feel sick when I see you", "You disgust me". I ran out the door and my mum called. A lengthy conversation didn't make me feel better, it just made me feel worse. A friend came to my rescue, and we sat in his car for hours just talking. I felt better, but this wasn't the first time I felt that way. It would come and go, come and go, without my control. This was something I have very little control of.
Everyone says we go through ups and downs every now and then, but it is hard to explain to people what I feel. I don't control the ups or downs, they come as they like and go as they like. I could wake up one morning feeling numb, then feeling ecstatic, then going from happy to sad like there's a switch in my head. I would do things one day, and wake up the next day feeling regretful over what I've done. I had my nose pierced three weeks ago during a bout of high; I knew getting a piercing with a gun was dangerous, but I did it anyway. I couldn't rationalise when I am riding on my high, or even on my low. I have thought of suicide, swallowing pills just to make it all go away. I would think that if I died, I would go someplace else where everyone is happy. But who am I kidding? Soon after, the door opens and I have to face the world again. I have tried to look for others like me out there, but I have yet to know another (at least not very well). I have looked up "support groups" online, but all I read is about people who have to give up their jobs and lives to deal with this condition. This is not what I want for myself.
I know famous people like Vincent van Gogh and Virginia Woolf lived with it, and created beautiful works. But let's look at Vincent; he cut off his own ear and sent it to his lover, and Virginia; she drowned herself to death by putting pebbles in her pockets. I don't want to end up like either of them, even if it meant I would produce great works in my life (which, due to my low self confidence, I doubt every day). I need people to know that there are people like me in this world, and we try everyday to be happy but it's just harder. Believe me, if we had a choice, we would want to be happy.
Perhaps it is not sympathy that we want. This is not self-pity. I simply want people to understand that sometimes, I really don't have a choice. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night crying and I cannot understand why. I only know one thing's for sure: I have to live with it, or die with it. I want to be cured, and I'm hoping that this blog will chronicle my conquering of this disease, and if I will never be fully cured, I hope that people like me are able to read this blog and understand themselves better, and for people who love them to try to know what they are facing. Perhaps all I hope from this is some awareness. I am hopeful; I want to be cured, and I want to write (hopefully) every day until I finally am able to be cured of this condition.
I want to be hopeful. I want to live. Today, I managed to hold in food for the first time in at least one week. I ate a meal and naturally instincts kicked in to throw up, but with support from JJ, I managed to sit down, sip a little water, while telling myself not to. It's not easy, everyday's a struggle, but I know I will try. As you can see, today's note ends on a high, but I dare not say the same for tomorrow. But I will just be hopeful.
Goodnight, world. And I hope that if you read this and know someone living with bipolar disorder or bulimia, give your loved one/friend/family member a hug, because they really need it. More than anything, they need your patience and understanding and love.
Love,
Sharon
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