Bits ‘n Pieces in the eye of a storm
Because my divorce was finalised late last year, I expected this year to be wonderfully light and fun and easy. But it hasn’t been. It’s been a confusing year. It’s been a hairy, smelly armpit of a year.
I could feel there was something off, but couldn’t put my finger on it. I tried to be the amazing-finally-free single woman – living it up, kicking ass and taking names. But I wasn’t. So with sheer force of will, I launched myself out into the real world….. with disappointing results. I dated, with disasterous results.
I cycled so quickly I was mistaken for a tropical storm and the World Meteorological Organization named me “Bits and Pieces”. Up, down, inside out and back to front, I was hauling ass all over the mood chart. Comfort eating grew out of control and out of my budget. And I grew out of my waistline. If I wasn’t sleeping endlessly, I was trapped in insomnia for weeks at a time. I couldn’t focus – reading/writing was impossible. I became more withdrawn… if that was even possible. Something was not right – I was supposed to be happy and carefree goddamnit.
I had been keeping a very simple weekly journal of symptoms and triggers for my new psychiastrst. To give him an idea of the pulse of my bipolar. It was after reading this, that he dropped the bombshell. I have early stage symptoms/early onset psychosis. At that point I stopped digesting what he said. I couldn’t hear him over the screaming in my head “NOOOOOOoooooooooo”. He became a man with a moving, silent mouth.
I wrestle with the fact that my bipolar disporder is degenerating. I wonder what my fate will be? Will my life run parallel to that of my mother’s? In her 40’s, psychotic, institutionalised and dead by her own hand at 49 years old – at 43 I’ve not much further to go. So I’ve decided not to look ahead, but to live only in the present. Don’t get me wrong, I’m freaking out on the inside, but I’m putting my head down and my shoulder into it – to live only one day at a time.