With hate, Pacie.

I honestly can say there’s not a whole lot I hate about myself but right now there are two things driving me crazy with hatred: my weight, my inability to finish things.

Seroquel was a great medicine for me, mostly. The weight gain was something I couldn’t deal with though. Ten pounds in a month, the first month, turned me off and I couldn’t do it. Maybe I could have learned to live with it or busted my ass to get it back off and busted my ass to keep the weight from coming but from what I read that was just the beginning for most people and there was no solution for losing it and even less hope for “keeping the weight off”. So Metformin came into my life and was supposed to help, but it didn’t. And now I’m fifteen pounds heavier than I care to be.

I’m off Seroquel so surely the weight will fall off or I could work it off, right? Right, well, if I could ever commit and finish anything.

Not going to lie, I ordered diet pills from Canada. Is it illegal? I have no idea, I hope not. Was it expensive? Yes. Fuck yes. But I’m desperate.

But not desperate enough to take my fat ass to the gym and stay out of drive thrus. 

but I am.

And I want to work it off but every time I begin a workout plan something comes along and I quit. This time it’ll be the second job I just got, I’m sure of it. Today I wrote out a seven day plan. Basic exercises. Basic enough surely I can stick to it for a week, right?

Fuck.

Charleen & The B Word

Charleen.  A tall woman with grey-silver hair and sad eyes wearing black knee high boots that oddly looked comfortable called me to follow her down the hallway of the doctor’s office.  I thought she would be my one-time-therapist, somebody that would assess me and send me on my way to somebody else. I was wrong, she’s going to be the main part in my recovery. Charleen wants to sort through the trauma of my life to help find relief.  I haven’t decided if she is a friend or an enemy but right now I’m not excited about our relationship.  Charleen is already on my bad side.

My childhood isn’t for the faint of heart but I refuse to be pitied.  Despite the fact that I am riddled with mental illness I believe that I turned out damn good.  As I was explaining something to Charleen she stopped typing on her laptop turned her chair to face me and gasped as she told me she was so sorry that I went through that.  I hate when people apologize for my life. Charleen then told me that I was a really strong person, did I know that?, that I was strong because I survived.  I hate when people say that. I know I didn’t have the most amazing upbringing but I do not want people to feel sorry for me and I don’t want people to tell me I’m strong because of it, because I survived.  I might be alive but I hardly call what I have a life, is that really surviving? And at the end of our forty-five minute hour she dropped the B word.

Bipolar II Disorder. What the actual fuck, Charleen? I came in with BPD and now you’re giving me Bipolar Disorder too? Nobody has ever even breathed the word Bipolar towards me.  I have never looked into it further than my basic psychology class at the community college required me to. I don’t know anything about Bipolar Disorder really.  Nothing more than it’s an intense mood swing type deal, which does make sense in my life.  It’s got to be a better future than BPD, right? People live pretty normal lives despite the diagnoses.  As long as they stay on their medicines and follow doctors orders, everything is good.  Right?  Charleen said that Nikita would get me on the correct medication and that I’ve not had any positive responses to the antidepressants that Dr. Walker has prescribed me because it’s been the wrong kind.

My emotions are just a whirlwind right now.  Not only am I apparently Bipolar but I am expected to talk about my childhood to this stranger.  The medicine is changing soon and I’m going to have new side effects to swim through and more time to let the chemicals build up in my system before I can find some relief.  I seriously might just die. I don’t know how much more of feeling like this I’m going to be able to handle.  Every day is a struggle and I’m exhausted and defeated.  Borderline Personality Disorder was what I am used to.  It’s the topic of so many self-help books I’ve read.  But now there’s a new contender in the ring and to be honest, I’m terrified of it.

After my time with Charleen was up I went to K’s house to let her know how it went.  I should have just gone home.  K wants to spend less time together while I’m going through this.  Am I just that insane to think she’s wrong for this? It pierced my heart when she said that to me.  Less time together? Fine.  If she doesn’t want to be with me while I’m fighting for my life then I don’t want her to be with me.  It’s not like she was ever there for me when I needed somebody anyways.  My heart is completely broken but I don’t need her to get through this.  She’s going to regret this when I do recover and I treat the next one better than she could ever imagine being treated.  How could she do that to me? She asked me “What would you do?” and I was amazed at the stupidity in that question.  Whatever the fuck it took. That’s what I would do for somebody I love while they were fighting. Whatever it took. 

So now I guess the title of my blog should be Pacie & BPD & also Bipolar II. Just a girl and her mental illnesses.