So as the title of the post would suggest, my mood has not picked up as yet and I am sitting in a pit of despair, otherwise known as by bedroom. I have barely left it in weeks and have been spending my days doing my newly acquired hobby: marathon sleeping. I seem to find it difficult to wake up and have been sleeping into the late afternoon and sometimes into the evening, only surfacing to go outside for a cigarette or if my boyfriend provides me with something to eat, he’s nice like that.  I feel totally pathetic to tell the truth, I feel like I’m just being lazy but I genuinely cannot seem to wake up, I’m not sure what’s going on but I think that it might be to do with the sodium valproate. When I spoke to the psychiatrist, he said that it may be reacting with the quietiapine I am already taking and making me sleepy so he reduced the quietapine dose but this has had no effect. Honestly, I am on the verge of stopping taking it, it has got that bad.

The other thing making life really difficult at the moment is that my thoughts don’t seem to be going in a straight line. They keep jumping about and its actually quite hard for me to string a sentence together (yes, writing this post is taking a really long time). Its funny but having thought disorder is actually a worse feeling than being suicidal: well maybe equal. The reason it is so bad is that nothing you do seems to come out very well; people can’t understand what you say half the time so you have to keep to short sentences. Writing is also quite a task and takes about ten times the normal time to write anything that makes sense.

My poor mood, excessive sleeping and thought disorder are all causing me some serious problems writing my thesis right now but I think I’m getting to a solution. I have found that sticking to the mathematics, statistics and making up tables, diagrams and graphs has allowed me to make progress in spite of how I’m doing right now in the health department and I guess I’m glad that I have been able to get going again as there’s not long to go now. I have to submit my PhD at the end of April. Wish me luck people!!!

NB: I apologize if any of the above doesn’t make sense

After about 5 days of what you could call happiness I have slipped back into a pit of depression again. I always know things are getting serious when I start looking up the lethal doses of various medications, a bad habit that I would advise against.  I just feel like crap again and have been having trouble concentrating on anything, even watching TV is not easy as everything just feels like a chore.

I really don’t have a clue what is causing all this fast paced mood swinging. I thought I was feeling better and that everything was going to be OK but it seems that this is not the case. All I want to do right now is sleep and nothing, even the might of energy drinks seems to be able to get rid of that feeling. I’ve got so much work to do it’s untrue and I just can’t seem to do any of it. If I don’t get it done I will be in a giant pile of steaming crap.

It seems ironic that over the years I have dished out so much advice on how to study but now when I need to most, I just can’t do any of it. I feel like such an idiot and a total waste of space. You all have my permission to ignore any of the bollocks I say.

Ok so the holidays are over. I successfully managed to avoid most of it: I did make Christmas dinner and bought a few presents but that’s about it. I don’t see why I should have to participate as I am an atheist and really hate how everything revolves around spending lots of money when I don’t exactly have vast quantities of the stuff and hearing of spoilt little teenagers complaining that their parents bought them the wrong color iphone. Why should I have to put up with this crap when I am in the depths of a depressive episode and the prospect of being admitted to hospital is never far from my thoughts.

Ok enough moaning…

I have had the weirdest week: I have been on sodium valproate for a few weeks and it had the effect of turning me into a zombie whose main goal is hibernation. That was until Tuesday, when I went to see my psychiatrist and told him of the sedation. He said that in combination with the quetiapine it could cause an excessive amount of sedation so he said I could decrease my quetiapine from 700mg to 600mg. This did not seem like a big decrease and I thought nothing of it really as I took my meds and went to my usual restless sleep that night. In the morning I woke up and was feeling rather energetic which was surprising but I just got myself together and went to work expecting the energy to go away. To my surprise, the energy didn’t go away and I did a full days work and after that went off to go and get my hair done. Even when I got home I was still not feeling at all sedated and proceeded to cook myself a nice dinner and dye my hair. When I went to bed I slept surprisingly well if not for that long.

This morning I woke again expecting to feel drained but the feeling did not come. I went to work wide awake and did another full day and even went out after. Even now as I write this I am feeling energetic and kind of normal. I have missed this feeling.

Another thing that has magically lifted is my mood. I can honestly say I feel happy again. It’s so strange, this has never happened to me before as I have always gotten better gradually but it just feels like someone has flicked a switch in my brain and everything is suddenly fine. I feel happy, motivated and most importantly I’m not getting any negative or suicidal thoughts.

I really hope that this feeling lasts as I really have to get writing my thesis. I don’t know what has happened in my brain chemistry but whatever it is, I like it.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
    My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
    One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
    But being too happy in thine happiness, –
        That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
                In some melodious plot
    Of beechen green and shadows numberless,
        Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
    Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
    Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
    Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
        With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
                And purple-stained mouth;
    That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
        And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
    What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
    Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
    Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
        Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
                And leaden-eyed despairs,
    Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
        Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
    Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
    Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
    And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
        Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
                But here there is no light,
    Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
        Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
    Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
    Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
    White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
        Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
                And mid-May’s eldest child,
    The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
        The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
    I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
    To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
    To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
        While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
                In such an ecstasy!
    Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain –
        To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
    No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
    In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
    Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
        She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
                The same that oft-times hath
    Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
        Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
    To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
    As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
    Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
        Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
                In the next valley-glades:
    Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
        Fled is that music: – Do I wake or sleep?

OK so I have been discharged from the crisis team. Not because I am well or in any way better but because they seem to think that my overall expression of annoyance with them meant that I was getting better. I did not fight the discharge from them as although I am still unwell with consistent invasive thoughts of suicide, visual hallucinations and racing jumbled thoughts, I had had enough of them and their complete inability to do anything that was of any use to me and communicating with them was like playing a rather unfair game of Chinese whispers where whatever I would say or ask for would be either lost or so distorted that it was not worth the effort. It’s not just me, they have been driving my social to distraction also; in some ways I find this comforting as it’s not me that they’re ignoring, they do it to everyone, even the professionals.

So I sat through a discharge meeting where the two people from the crisis team who I had never met before were telling me that my mental state was good enough to be discharged and I just sat there and nodded: well what else was I supposed to do?  To be honest, I would rather see my social worker and consultant once a week than see them every day; It’s not like they are going to be able to stop me from killing myself anyway, if I want to do it I will.

So now I’m back at the CMHT recovery team, which feels much better. I am a very private person and have trouble telling my inner thoughts and feelings to anybody let alone a complete stranger so having a long meeting with the social worker who I have come to trust over the many months I have worked with him tomorrow comes as a welcome relief. There is so much I need to catch up with him on; so many worries that need addressing that have been put off over the past weeks where everything has been at panic stations.

I am still not feeling good at all. It honestly feels right now like I’m lost out at sea, floating through the days just trying to stay alive.

I am plagued by thoughts of ending my life; these thoughts are strange and feel like they are coming from somewhere that isn’t me. I realize that they are from me but they feel alien: mostly because I can’t seem to control them. Its kind of like having a constant radio going on in your head but you can’t change the station, volume or turn it down. So I’m stuck with these thoughts of suicide in my head, going round and although I try to fight them, it takes up all of my mental effort and I can do little else.

I am also seeing things. The most benign is the “something in the corner of your eye” thing where I see things move at the corner of my vision but when I look there is nothing there. This effect, although it makes me feel jumpy and on edge, it is not as scary as the others. I see blood, on my body, mostly my hands and also on the surroundings. It is very strange and although it is disturbing sometimes I know it is not real and that is perhaps the weird thing about it: that I know its not there. As far as the senses that are involved, I can see it and feel it but I cannot hear it, smell it or taste it (yes I have tried). Finally is the strangest one where its like a flashback but of things that have not happened. I see myself committing suicide, in a flash, just like I am there. This can be anything from watching myself slit my wrist to seeing myself jump in front of a train or off a bridge. This is by far the most disturbing of the three as it does feel real and I am filled with the fear and adrenaline that I am about to die.

I don’t think I can take any more disclosure this evening so I will leave you with one of the most controversial songs ever written and is genuinely regarded as the most depressing songs ever written. Many versions have been released since its original recording in 1935 but the most infamous was by Billy Holiday in 1941. There is a popular urban legend surrounding this song that many people have committed suicide whilst listening to it.

Sunday is gloomy,
My hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless
Little white flowers
Will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of
Sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought
Of ever returning you
Would they be angry
If I thought of joining you?

Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy is Sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I
Have decided to end it all
Soon there’ll be candles
And prayers that are said I know
Let them not weep
Let them know that I’m glad to go
Death is no dream
For in death I’m caressin’ you
With the last breath of my soul
I’ll be blessin’ you

Gloomy Sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep
In the deep of my heart, dear
Darling I hope
That my dream never haunted you
My heart is tellin’ you
How much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday

I haven’t updated the blog for quite a while. This is because I am not very well and have been feeling a complete lack of any kind of creativity and have really wanted to hide from the world.

I don’t have time to be unwell; I have a PhD thesis to write. 100,000 words isn’t going to write itself you know. The strange thing is that even in the depths of a depressive episode as I am right now; I still want to complete my PhD. I promised myself I would finish it, that I would get through it and to be honest, despite all the good things I have in my life, it is my PhD that keeps me alive now. I think that this is because I am so incredibly stubborn and if I drop out now, whether by leaving the research or by leaving this world, I will see myself as an utter failure. It might sound strange to you all but when I promise myself I’m going to do something, I am damn well going to do it.

I wonder what will happen when I finish: when I finally get my “title”. What will I do then? Will I end it all as I have nothing left that I want to achieve? That thought really scares me and I do fear what will happen. I guess I will have to find something else that I can strive for, perhaps even something that will make me happy.

OK so time for some brutal honesty…

I am currently under the care of the Crisis Resolution Team (CRT) who come round once a day and talk to me about how my mental health is and supply me with drugs so I don’t go and overdose on medication they are supposed to be prescribing while not taking into account that I have large amounts of opiates in the cupboard which they haven’t gotten rid of: enough in fact to kill me about 20 times over (I’m good at pharmacology). So they come round and expect to hear the gory details of my depressive episode but the thing that makes it really uncomfortable is that you see different people every day, sometimes a complete stranger will ask me the contents of my hallucinations (more later) and my innermost thoughts and feelings which right now, when I am feeling like withdrawing from the world and I am barely to tell my partner what that’s like is a pretty nasty prospect.

The crisis team are also some of the most disorganized people you will ever meet. They don’t seem to know when to order your medication even though it says right there on their goddam chart and I was supposed to have been started on Sodium Valporate two weeks ago and am still waiting for that to materialize.

Ok, so that’s the crisis team. My mental status is currently terrible. My mood is at rock bottom, I am constantly thinking of killing myself and I am getting visual hallucinations which are really frightening and nobody seems to know what to do about.

Overall I’m in the shit

I will try and get up the courage to talk more about everything in more detail in the next couple of days.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

So over the past month or so I have been in the throws of a mixed affective episode which has been extremely unpleasant. I have been violently swinging from the depths of depression to something not far off mania and I have been trying really hard to get on with life.

My care plan (that I hate having) is based around the sensible theory that comtinuing with my work and the rest of my life is best for my mental health in the long run. The last time I was in hospital was in March and although there are three times when I could have easily been put back there since then, my social worker and I are working on staying out as much as possible which involves the cooperation of my boyfriend who locks away my medication and other sharp implements while I am unwell and also monitors me on a daily basis. I don’t envy him really but he is good about it and I trust he has my best intentions at heart (bless). I also have to continue to work on my PhD as much as possible and just generally keep going. This is really tricky as although everyone knows I am bipolar I still feel that they wouldn’t want to be burdened with the knowledge that I am hearing voices telling me to kill myself, so I try and keep a brave face on and get by the best I can.

The only thing is that my contact with the mental health services is vastly increased and I am seeing my psychiatrist and social worker on a weekly basis (which is alot for an NHS psychiatrist). So many appointments really get in the way of life but better that than the alternative I suppose.

So I have had my lithium carbonate put up which has had the unfortunate side effect of giving me a tremor in my hands. Its actually quite bad and I’m having trouble sending a text on my phone because my fingers don’t go where I tell them to. I also have a bad case of vertigo which is really unpleasant. This could either be the lithium or a viral infection, but whatever the cause, it’s not pleasant.

I will also be going on Sodium Valproate to try and add to the regulation of my mood but I can’t have that until I sort out my contraception situation as it can cause birth defects which is not ideal (lithium can do this too by the way). I don’t know whether going on another mood stabilizer is a good idea but I have rapid cycling which is notoriously resistant to treatment and to be honest right now I’m feeling a little desperate. I just want this to stop. I haven’t been stable in my mood for such a long time and am right at the end of my tether to tell you the honest truth. Anything that can help me right now is a blessing.

Anyway, I thought I’d share some rather old lyrics with you from a song that means an awful lot to me when I’m feeling fragile:

Summer stretching on the grass
Summer dresses pass
In the shade of the willow tree
Creeps are crawling over me
Over me and over you
Stuck together with gods glue
It’s gonna’ get stickier, too
It’s been a long, hot summer
Lets get undercover
Don’t try to hard to think, don’t think at all

I’m not the only one,
Staring at the sun.
Afraid of what you’d find
If you took a look inside
I’m not just deaf and dumb
Staring at the sun
Not the only one
Who’s happy to go blind

There’s an insect in your ear
If you scratch it won’t disappear
It’s gonna itch and burn and sting
You want to see what the scratching brings
Waves that leave me out of reach
Breaking on your back like a beach
Will we ever live in peace?

‘Cause those that can’t do
Often have to
And those that can’t do
Often have to preach

To the ones
Staring at the sun
Afraid of what you’d find
If you took a look inside
Not just deaf and dumb
I’m staring at the sun
I’m not the only one
Who’d rather go blind

Intransigence is all around
Military still in town
Armour plated suits and ties
Daddy just won’t say goodbye
Referee won’t blow the whistle
God is good but will He listen
I’m nearly great
But there’s something missing

I left it in the duty free yeah
But you never really belonged to me

You’re not the only one
Staring at the sun
Afraid of what you’d find
You step back inside
Not sucking on my thumb
I’m staring at the sun
I’m not the only one
Who’s happy to go blind

I really hate birthdays for many reasons, but here are two.

The first reason I hate birthdays is quite a common one. I get huge amounts of anticipatory anxiety that noone will remember or even care. That I will receive no cards, emails, texts, tweets or Facebook messages at all (except from my parents and boyfriend of course but that’s a given). In the days up to my birthday I genuinely feel like Eleanor Rigby, like nobody cares and why would they? I’m not worth the effort. I get this feeling anyway when I’m depressed but it’s magnified around birthday time, regardless of mood.

The second reason is that so far in my life I have spent 2 of my relatively recent birthdays in the psychiatric ward and not only that, I was under constant watch on both occasions. The first birthday I spent in Springfield Hospital I was totally alone. My boyfriend was having trouble dealing with the situation so he didn’t even come and see me. I think that perhaps this horrible day is the reason behind my very big problem with the first reason. The other time I was in the psychiatric hospital on my birthday was also nasty and I felt like crap but at least I got a visit from my boyfriend.

In a nutshell, I find that birthdays remind me of my inherent feeling of distance between myself and others. Like I don’t quite belong in the world.

So this year, against my better judgement,  I have agreed to spend the weekend with my parents. Not looking forward to it but I live in hope that my brother will make an appearance and make it worthwhile.

One good thing about my birthday this year is that its 09/10/11 which is actually kind of cool.

Also the fact that I got to put the Portal cake on my blog actually makes me smile a bit.