Fear of Being Alone

I’m scared, ok? I’m scared that one day he’s going to wake up and not love me anymore. I’m scared that he’s going to get sick of my craziness and my need for constant reassurance that he’s not going to leave me. I’m scared that he’s going to get fed up with my mood swings and my panic attacks and my uncontrollable fits of sadness. Mostly I’m just scared that he’s going to see me the way I see myself.

I just really really don’t want him to leave me.

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The Demon Has Made An Appearance

The evil head of bipolar has decided to surface this week and it has forced me to my knees in brokenness. I spent the past 2 days curled up in the fetal position in my bed, a dog on either side of me keeping me warm. I am a walking zombie, experiencing waves of emotion that leave me crumpled over in tears. I’m so detached that I have no awareness of what’s happening around me, often not even hearing David say my name. Buddy has taken to lying on top of my chest and I welcome his weight and warmth as it’s the only thing reminding me I’m still alive.

Bipolar disorder is hard.

I’ve gone a while without having an episode but when I do, each one is truly a battle of life and death. Yesterday I took a handful of pills. Not enough to stop my heart but enough to induce a 19 hour semi coma. My husband came to find me in a very deep sleep, curled up in the fetal position, and drooling and he wasn’t able to wake me. After a while he pulled me to a sitting position and got me to drink water. In a fit of rage he flushed all of the medication, leaving me without any for the next 2 weeks, until I can get it filled again. I’m screwed.

Then he sat up all night. My husband sat up the entire night, watching over me, afraid that I was going to stop breathing. But I didn’t. I made it through the night and he left me in bed and went to work at 6am with zero sleep. And that’s where I stayed until 4pm today. My only accomplishment has been a shower which I cried the whole way through.

If you have a god that you pray to, I ask from the bottom of my heart that you would whisper a prayer for me. I’m not doing so good …. and I’m really scared. I don’t know how much I can handle.

Surgery in 3 Days

I can’t stop the thoughts. My mind keeps reeling through different scenarios, picturing that cold metal table she will be lying on as they shave the fur from the base of her spine down to her ankle and then make the incision in her skin. While she lies there, her breathing labored, her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. I keep imagining things that could happen. The surgeon slipping on the floor and accidentally cutting my girl in some random place on her body, blood pouring out of her. I keep thinking that the anesthetic is going to be too strong in her heart is going to stop. And never start again, ever. I just keep visualizing her lifeless body there on that metal table in that strange room, Without me there to comfort her. The thoughts. I just can’t stop these thoughts.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach is sour. Awful. If they call me with bad news and I answer my phone to hear your voice on the other end telling me that my baby girl did not pull through this surgery, I’m pretty convinced that it will be the end of me.

How Does Death Make You Feel?

In the midst of the times that I have tried to take my own life, I had no fear.

I was not afraid of dying.

I was not afraid of pain.

I was just not … afraid.

But today I find out that my health is really not that great. A couple of days ago I was diagnosed with pneumonia and sent for blood work and then today I get a phone call and I find out more bad news.

And now that a sudden death is a very real possibility, I am scared.

I’m afraid of dying.

I’m afraid of pain.

I am just very … afraid.

Haunting Thoughts

Sometimes, late at night when I can’t sleep, I sneak out of bed, making sure not to wake my husband or to stir the sleeping dogs, I go to the living room and take refuge in the darkness and sit on the couch with my favourite blanket. That way I can be alone as I try to figure out why I have these thoughts running through my head. I look at my thighs and my ankles and my stomach and my wrist and I picture thin lines of bright red blood oozing out of my skin. I feel the warmth of the blood as it bubbles up and then runs down my arm …….

I look around me. I am surrounded by wonderful things. My sleeping husband. precious dogs. Yet this darkness around me right now is deafening. The heaviness I feel weighing down on my chest makes it hurt to breathe.

I hate when this happens.

As The World Sleeps, Madness Rises

I’m lonely.
I’m going to die too soon.
I should write a will. Nah. I don’t have anything of value.
I’m such a terrible mother to my fur babies. Such a failure.
How am I going to survive spending 4 days travelling next week? Holidays should be fun.
All I do is worry. Worry, worry, worry.
I hurt. I wish I didn’t hurt. I hurt so bad.
Damn it, I forgot to put the clothes in the dryer.

I’ve spent too many nights of my life being an insomniac. Pain keeps me awake, but my active brain does a pretty good job of that, too. It’s dark at night, it’s lonely and I feel like there is no one else in the world awake, even though logically this makes no sense. My mind plays tricks on me. I’m tired all the time but I just can’t switch off. I have been through many phases of taking different sleeping pills, but even then I just wake up feeling groggy and like  haven’t slept for years.

The night brings out the worst anxiety; in the light of day I can rationalize, but the darkness brings with it a heavy depression that is pretty tough to shake. I worry. A lot. I don’t consciously think of anything, my mind just wanders from subject to subject.

I try to survive another dark night. I’m scared to go to bed, frightened of the battle with my body and brain. I don’t want to lie awake all night yet again. I lay there wondering what I did to deserve this. I’m a good person, I’m kind and compassionate. I have made mistakes like everyone, but this? What did I do to deserve this? I wonder about karma and the many gods I read about. Why do I feel like I’m being punished? Why me?

I just want to lie without pain, and sleep without repeating the same battle each night. I do everything right, have tried every suggestion anyone has ever thrown at me, but none of it works. I just can’t sleep and the longer the battle rages, the darker the corners of my mind I find myself in, trying to escape this hell.

The constant exhaustion that comes with being sick all the time is impossible to describe to anyone that hasn’t felt it themselves.

It’s beyond tiredness.
Beyond having flu for a couple of weeks.
It’s relentless.

There is no end and the beginning was so long ago, it’s impossible to remember a time that I didn’t feel like this. The fight with the dark feels impossible to win, night after night, trying to switch my brain off, trying so hard to find that happy positive part I know is there within me, but I lose it whenever the sun sets.

Am I going to get worse?
Will my heart stop beating?
Will I slip away while I sleep?
What will happen to my dog?
What will my husband do without me?
How can I save myself?
What can I do to fix this???

I long for the sun to rise, its warmth not only heals the world but also my tired, aching body and brain. I begin to relax as the hear birds begin their day outside my open window; I hear hope once more, arriving with the daylight. My body finally gives up and my mind clears enough for sleep to take over for a few short hours.

I wake up shortly after, groggy and heavy, my limbs weighed down and stiff as I struggle to stand, smile and face another day.

I’m alive.
I smile.

My day begins with the usual chaos that my labrador retriever brings: barking, whining as she impatiently waits for her morning kisses and snuggles, squeaky toys from one end to the other, and the madness of her hyperactive personality. I remember why I don’t ever quit, why the darkness will never be strong enough to absorb me. My amazing husband pulls me to him and kisses me on the lips. “How are you feeling hunny?” With tears in my eyes I tell him that I’m ok.

It’s incredible how my little family can create such distraction from the pain and my irrational worries. I smile, again.

I’m alive.
I’m fighting.
I’m living.

The darkness may be strong, but I am stronger.

I Sink Deeper

I am good for a while.
I'll talk more, laugh more, sleep and eat normally. But then something happens. It's like a switch turns off somewhere and all I am left with is a darkness of my mind.
But each time it seems like I just sink deeper and deeper. And it's scary.
I'm terrified that one Day I won't make it back up. I
feel like I am gasping for air, screaming for help. But everyone just looks at me with confused faces, wondering what I am struggling over, When they're all doing just fine.
And it makes me feel nothing but crazy.