Quiet, isn’t it?

March 13, 2011

It’s been rather quiet on here recently. In fact, I’ve been rather quiet everywhere of late. I switched off Facebook chat because I got scared by people actually talking to me and I didn’t know what to say. I don’t talk on Twitter because I struggle to catch up with conversations and worry about saying the wrong thing and I’ve stopped replying to emails because I can’t plan a sensible, coherent response that covers everything I want to say. Plus the effort involved is just phenomenal. Yet on the other hand, I complain that nobody cares about me because they don’t speak to me any more. Even my twisted logic can’t make any sort of sense of that contradiction.

Overall, my mood is definitely better than it was a few weeks ago. Much as I hate to hand them anything, I think the new drugs may be helping somewhat. The only catch is they’re giving me horrible fluttery heart palpitations whenever I push myself slightly too hard which is disconserting. I’m having an ECG next week to rule out any underlying problems but I don’t think it’ll show anything and I’ll just have to put up with them and hope they fade with time.

Despite a general mood increase, I feel very all over the place. Sometimes I’m so high it feels dangerously out of control. I laugh at everything, bounce around, make plan to change the world. Other times, I’m so low I’m suicidal. The changes are getting boring to be honest because I never know which Ana is going to wake up in the morning and which one I’m going to be by the time I go to bed. Unfortunately, I don’t think this is something any drug in the world can fix.

I need to change my default reaction whenever anything deviates slightly from my black and white view of how the world should be. At the moment, the instant urge is to self harm. To cut, to bleed, to suffer because it’s what I deserve and because it will stop the uncontrollable guilt and anger. If I don’t (and I’m really trying not to because it completely freaks out the boyfriend), it deteriorates over the next half hour or so to ‘I may as well just kill myself because no matter what I do, I always end up feeling like this’. My past behaviour, has unfortunately made suicide a viable alternative to me and that’s exhausting to try and ignore and overcome.

In happier, more exciting news, we get the keys for the new house on Tuesday. There’s an awful lot of work to be done so I’m afraid I’m probably going to be around even less for a while. I shall be armed with a sledgehammer, cheerfully demolishing walls.

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