Whoa! Hold up! Wait a minute. I want off this bus. Can I get a transfer? I’m afraid I’m heading down a dark road (again). It’s subtle so far. Going to bed at 7:30 a few nights in a row. Coming home from work sitting on the couch and not moving. Talking less and less to my husband. Tears for no reason. I just feel heavy. Oh and there’s that nagging feeling of wanting to disappear.
I’m faking my way through work. Still no concentration or memory. I hide in the bathroom when I need to and if it’s really bad I walk to the end of the street. Only missed 1 day in the month I’ve been back. Things are becoming overwhelming and stressful. But seriously who doesn’t face that at work. I feel like a loser even mentioning that. I’m not very good at telling my boss I can’t handle any more projects. I want to be able to handle them, I want to be strong and smart and capable. But in reality, the sad sad reality, I just can’t anymore.
I found out 2 weeks ago my hair is falling out. I guess I had a blind suspicion as more and more hair was falling out in the shower or when I brushed my hair. I of course was in denial this was the case and it was my shampoo or some fluke thing I was doing wrong. When dry, my hair was beginning to look terrible. Very brittle. What I would call “ratty.” I have curly/wavy hair and now it was just a frizzy mess. I made an appt w my hair stylist who informed me the back of my hair was thinking and falling out. When she she looked underneath she reported bald spots. All along I suspected this was due to medication. She also thought medication was the culprit. I sat in her chair w tears in my eyes. She suggested we cut it short, bring it up to where it seemed strongest. This would mean several inches. I was so pissed. So resentful. So tired of bipolar disorder and medication. What was I supposed to do? I felt trapped. So of course I cut my hair.
You may be thinking it’s just hair. True. You got me there. But, this didn’t feel like my choice. My intention that day was not to cut my hair into a bob. It was to get a trim and have my stylist work her magic to fix me up. She recommended some vitamins. Bless her heart. Now I have vitamins to combat the side effects of my medications. When does it end?
So instead of dealing with any of this or talking out my frustrations, I go to bed. If I didn’t have a husband, I don’t know that I would ever get out of bed. It’s true I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’m constantly battling my own mind. I see myself stand on the bridge over and over. I’m not convinced I belong in this world. I don’t know what I’m doing here.
123 RV, RW, PA, SA, JW