Cyberfreak Posted August 31, 2008 Report Share Posted August 31, 2008 I was diagnosed with bipolar II a few years ago and BPD last december after a nervous breakdown and hospitalization.A few months ago I quit my enormous amount of medication as they were causing me so many excruciating side effects. Although this was initially going to be reduced with doctors supervision I went on a spate of what I can only consider self harm as I quit the meds cold turkey. I know that I wanted it to hurt, I thought that my illness made me deserve to hurt. None of the doctors had ever taken me that seriously and in one instance the doctor admitted to me he only ever gave me the meds to keep me quiet. They seemed to be under the impression that I wanted to feel as bad as I did, and that I wanted to have the things in my head that I did in order to gain sympathy.I doubt that many people can say that they have never overemphasized something in order to get some form attention, I know I have, but I also know that I never told my doctor or psychiatrist that anything was going on if it wasn't. I wanted these things to go away. Sympathy does not help and so soliciting it would have done me no good whatsoever.Anyway, things seemed to be going fairly ok for a little while once the withdrawals subsided. I took up my song writing and poetry again and even managed a little painting. Work was going ok, they had threatened my job but I had managed to argue my case successfully. It looked like, for the time being, I had found a way to co-habitat with my demons.Now they are resurfacing. My sleep is becoming increasingly disrupted. I find it difficult to focus on any one thing and nothing seems to bring me pleasure. Work provides a sanctuary, a distraction. Somewhere where I can convince myself that the facade is real, that I am coping. But my home life is a different reality. Thoughts bombard my mind, nothing makes sense anymore, self-harm and suicidal thoughts are resurfacing.All I want to do is cry but it seems that I am not even allowed that luxury. I crave pain, real physical pain that I can see and deal with. Something I can tend to and care for. If I had a broken leg I could go to the hospital and they would know just how to fix it, but this....this is like being from another dimension. Nothing to see here.....move on please.Nothing I can say can express what I see or the thoughts that plague me, and yet as it is an unseen force, unless I do something to harm myself or another, it seems to be an ok thing to ignore. If you can't see it it's not really there.Sorry for the essay as my first post I guess things have just been building up quite a lot. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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