No family, friends, other side of the world…

I’m bipolar II.
That’s like a bipolar I without the happies.

The fellow that I thought was one of my last friends always told me that if I needed help, I should not run away again, but call him.

I did.  I did not tell him that I had gotten much much sicker in the head.  I’d been hearing voices for a while and didn’t notice until now.  I was getting help from my doctor, but I wasn’t sure how far it would go.  Hospitalization?  I had no idea.

I was going to the hospital the next week, so I wanted to line things up with the fellow.  But when I called him, I had a feeling that I should tell him the doctor’s appointment was the current weekend.

He promised to be there for me.

Then wasn’t.

The perfect test.

Another friend just keeps his distance.  He heard me over the phone during some of my worst bouts.  He has his own life to live.

I’d really screwed one good friend over.  I’m no angel.  I’d done something unforgivable.  And I don’t deserve her friendship or the friendship of anyone around here.  They were my friends, too.  But I deserve that.  I will not stand here and act like I am some kind of saint.  I was a dick.  And for what I did there is no redemption.

Others due to my distance.

Some due to severe hardship within their own families.

Like I said: I’m bipolar II.  I get no happies.  I have depression… sadness… paranoia…  and now I realize that I’d had been hearing voices for I don’t know how long.

My depression had gotten horribly worse.  I fell asleep on the job.  This had never happened to me in my entire career.  My career is such that we naturally can endure 18-20 hour days for a almost a week before requiring recovery time.

I was only working 8 hour days and this happened.
And with full nights sleep. 🙁

I called my doctor at the time begging the nurses to help me.  That something is horribly wrong and I need help.  My meds are supposed to prevent me from  going down…  but I have fallen into something worse than I’d ever experienced.  I was incapable of getting through a day.

After finally go to the hospital…  I find the doctors there sticking me in CT scans and running all kinds of tests.  They have me on different meds for things I didn’t even know that I’d had going on in me.

But, it’s too late.

Tomorrow I might loose my job.

There is nobody at home who believes me.
Nobody who understands that bipolar II does not mean that I am schizophrenic or crazy or whatever.

When I realized that I was hearing voices — and possibly for a while — I went running to my old doctor.  He’s the one who’s been getting through the hospital process.

I have not lost rationality.  Now that I know what’s been going on, I keep a record of all the kind of audio events (I hear voices and music)  I experience as well as anxiety events.

I’ve noticed a total run away feedback loop that occurs.  It goes like this:

1. Day starts of OK.  All is good.  I hear no voices (literally in the room hear) or music.
2. Any stress of any kind occurs then I start hearing things.  Even when people are in the room, I hear voices.  I look up and everybody is like almost 3 meters apart from each other quietly working.
3. Voices wind me up.  Get me more anxious.  Sometimes it is just in my head…  and others I hear the voices like they are there.  That adds to the anxiety that I am already experiencing.  They say horrible things to me.  It makes me more anxious.
4. This adds to the stress.
5. Go back to step #2 and repeat.

If any other stress occurs, it just adds to the feedback loop.  By the end of the day, I’m a wreck.  And the voies don’t stop. 🙁

I discovered that even mild stress triggers the process.  That was the scary finding.

But, as you see, I am still rational.

But sadly…
We do have our breaking points.

I’ve been dreadfully alone for years, I suppose.  Aw, fuck, years.  It’s just gone to dreadfully++ over the past year.

I used to enjoy being around people.  Usually a small group…  like 1-3 max.

My sense of humor is based on a irony and playing on doing things that would not be considered normal…  things that are completely out of people’s prediction based on social norms…  but are totally harmless.  And that makes it funny.

I’d been so funny that at one point I had to actually leave a room because one lady couldn’t stop laughing.  She looked like she was literally going to pass out from it.  When she looked at me, the gag replayed in her head and she kept laughing.

I had to leave the room.
I had to really just leave for a while and go get a cup of coffee.

She later told me that that was the best laugh she’d had ever.

I’m not some kind of comic genius.  But I’m just trying to say that I am not dilusional here.

Well…  I have no one to enjoy this with.
Haven’t for a very long time.

I tried to join in with an odd thing that someone had suggested — it was just to write a number on your arm and see how people reacted.  And it was just one of those safe things that are unexpected within a culture that I had to do it.

I posted that I actually tried it and the results.

Nobody responded,
They went on to notice some lame post that I’d made after my update., but nobody responded to what I did.

It hurt.

I’e been reduced to talking to myself…  being the way I am with my own gags, but with myself…  for a year.

My humor still works.  When I meet random people and chat-up for a while there is a back and forth with talk and humor.  And I get a laugh from them….  and they from me.

But these are always in passing…  just random people I meet in a park or coffee shop.

Well….  now I am getting a litte sick in the head.

I did one of my classic weird things that kind of make sense sort of, but is still weird things…  but there is nobody to notice:  I’ve been wring on the rest of my body.

The pattern started with my knees.  I wrote an “R” on the right one and an “L” on the left.  Then said, “Hey, I might forget.  This will, like, help me to remember…  just in case.”

I was still OK.  It was a classic kind of thing I might do.  Somebody would ask, why the “R” and “L”, then I would give the reason with a straight face, “I might forget,  This will help me to remember…  just in case.”

Classic me.  A part of me sees it as rational…  because it is…  and this lets me give the answer, then go on to defend it.  And that helps to build the joke.

Well…  I had a stressor.
I’m a member of groups online.
These are not friends.
They don’t know me.
And things have been going wrong in different ares for weeks.

And what happened about an hour or so ago pushed me over an edge.

I’ve been writing on my leg the different body part names and reference arrows for their motion and stuff.

I keep doing it and repeating: “I might forget.  This will help to remember…  just in case.”

Loneliness does make you sick.

It does.

Lately, I’ve become so sick.

It’s a good thing I wear a suit to work…  nobody will see the writing.

But, my head is strange now.

I might find that I will loose my job tomorrow.

I can’t go home.

I don’t know where else to go.

If the worse happens.  I will simply funnel all my money to this country (it is SO not a fortune).  Use it to enjoy myself….  doing what I like.  Coffee shops…  reading…   Then find a place and time in a place  that I enjoy…  and kill myself.

Life is like this.

No amount of wishing or want…  and even hard work or detrrmination…  can make a difference sometimes.  Sometimes, things in life are what they are.  And it means that you will not even get to eek the semblance of a normal existence.

 

I will not let myself return to America just to live homeless under a bridge.  My family would let this happen.  They would think that if I could not find a job that it was my fault.

They would put a time limit on me and say that if I don’t find a job by that time, that I would have to leave.  As if I was being lazy and their push would make a difference.  Fuck, college grads are lucky if they get a job in Walmart.

No.

I will not return to be ridiculed and scorned by the rest of my family.

I will not return to have my parents tolerate me until they decide to put me out.

I will die here.

I will not allow there to be a body to be recovered, if I can help it.  I must find a way to make it so that they government here just disposes of my body as just some random dead foreigner.

I’m sick.

Well…  I’m going to be.

Tomorrow, I will likely loose my job.

With that…  my apartment.

I will still have my car.

The economy is crap.  I’m pretty much done.

If by some miracle I still have a job tomorrow, then I will have the time to fix my head.

I have an appointment this come Saturday with the doctors.  One has tagged a physical medical condition that might be responsible for other health issues…  another report is looking for other potential problems.

If these come up negative, the what’s happening  to me is 100% my mind deteriorating.

Damn…  I’m going to stop.

I have to sleep.

Can’t be late to loosing my job
(See what I just did there?  What I said is completely reasonable…  I can say it with a straight face…  but there is something just wrong about it.  Might not be comedy gold, but can be good to put a smile on somebody’s face.)