it always gets worse before it gets better, and that’s true. even though i left my last post with a promising start on life and appreciation, my depressive episode seemed as if it never came to it’s end. the wednesday evening after, i tried to take my own life again, but this time with pills and mouthwash in the bathroom. it really felt as if it was the best thing to do at the time, i realised kidding myself into optimism wasn’t working, and although i knew i had this support for me and i knew i wasn’t lonely, the feeling was way too high to comprehend. i was taken to a&e again, along with my mum this time (who i lashed out on beforehand, even swearing which is something i’ve never done to my elders). i shouted and yelled and didn’t know where i was going until i landed in my bathroom. i came back out to get our medicine box in the kitchen, and i thought that was the end of everything. i screwed it up. entirely. it wasn’t even a whole fortnight until i tried taking my life beforehand, but i eventually calmed down and sinked into this huge isolation. i felt afterwards, throughout that weekend, that not taking my life was just a huge mistake, and if i had ended it there and then, there’d be no love lost, no feeling. my godmother had to break open the door with my brother and sister just seeing me kneeling besides the toilet, screaming, crying, and shivering asking what i had done to my mum, not really knowing what to do or what to say. and i was left there too, completely speechless.
that guilt, no matter how many times i’ve apologised, will always remain. i was prescribed mood stabilisers by my therapist to control it, and these pills have kinda worked in the long run i suppose, but kinda made it worse for a while. it’s like a slow-subtle version of weed, if i had to describe it. i ate a lot more, i slept a lot more, i was drowsy and tired and i missed loads of lessons in college because my enthusiasm and my lateness just made me think it wasn’t worth it. i became a lot insecure after that too, but i tried my best to hide it at college — which i always do, and hopefully manage successfully! i eventually picked myself back up, thinking that if i didn’t start living properly or at least trying to, i’d regret it when i got better — if that was going to happen.
i oversmoked, and anyone who knew me at the time would know that very well. i wasn’t enjoying music, just repeating the same songs over and over again (which is personally, and however pretentious it may present itself as, a sign that i’m not feeling too good). but this friday, i think it finally all went. my episode had worn off in it’s entirety, and i started feeling relatively normal again. and that was great, because any added stress i had which wasn’t mental illness related, i was ready to tackle — including college. the reason i make these posts is a reminder for me in general, a great way of me expressing how i feel to people, and to help other people who may have ANY kind of stress/depressive/anxiety related problem. isolation is the worst part of depression, the loneliness although not apparent, really does take it’s toll on you. the worst feeling is being in bed, tricking yourself to fall asleep but knowing your head is lost somewhere, but nowhere at the same time. this episode has lasted around 9–10 weeks, and when it feels like there is no end, there is.
i know my bipolar is something i’m never going to be able to overcome, and will stay with me for the rest of my life. that’s ok. because when it feels as if your sadness or whatever problem you have gets worse, and it recurs again at some other point in your life, you know what you can do to make yourself better. i’m not promising, no matter how dear my loved ones are to me and how much i want to, that this won’t happen again. i can’t. it’s out of my control, and it might sound defeatist to conclude that, but if you were to take my mind if i were in an episode — either manic or depressive — the madness is incomprehensible. it is for me, hence two suicide attempts in one month. it’s gloomy, it’s dark, it’s something we don’t want to talk about, but i think that’s where we should draw the line and start paying attention to mental illness. and believe me, when your life is on the edge and you know what it feels like to nearly have lost everything, you have nothing but admiration for the beautiful, stupid world we live in.
i’m better now, and i can definitely say that. we’ll leave it on an indefinite note as to whether this will happen again or not, and whether i might take my own life in the future. at 17, and feeling what i have already, it’s inevitable that it’s just going to get worse. but i promise you all, that i will do my very best to fight it as much as i can. nobody wants my life more than me, and i appreciate everyone who’s helped and i apologise to everyone who i’ve hurt throughout this whole ordeal. thank you for reading. x