Monday 22 August 2016

I wanted a Title, that Title came at a heavy price

When I blog I listen to music, the first day it was A Tribe Called Quest that started things off, the second day it was Low Roar, then the next two blogs where a combined effort split over a day, making it easier for people to digest. Bon Iver started me off and then I couldn't get out of that vibe, I'm rather excited for the new album 22, A Million.

Anyway, Sertraline, I started on 50mg, then 100mg, then 200mg. The 200mg period didn't last very long but I'll get to that and what I remember soon.

The 3-4 days of coming off one anti depressant and going onto another one was a strange one. One minute my parents turn up and I'm standing on the top of the sofa convinced I could fly and spinning around like a giddy child, then I would be in a ball on the floor crying for hours, my emotions use to over come me and knock me completely the fuck out.

I used to run, apparently this is a trait of people with bipolar as they tend to work out, I put on some music, and I'd pick it apart, layer by layer, track by track, then I'd go home.

Two reasons how I knew something was up. One was the fact that I left the house because the idea of stabbing myself was literally moments away from happening and second, I just plain fucking hate running.

What became more current was me having full blown anxiety attacks at work. I mean fall on floor, lose of sight, my hands getting stuck like claws, no feeling from my knees down and hysterical crying and hyperventilation that would last for potentially hours.

When I was at work I was in my fortress, I was the loud, over the top, eccentric, centre of attention. Everything my real personality wasn't. I was a hyper exaggeration of myself and I sold that idea so much so that I was openly telling people when I was going home I was going to cut my wrists and they'd laugh and think it was some funny joke, no one thought I had this severe depression that had started to really claw its way into my work life.

I hid it so well, at least I think I did, It became even more apparent that shit was going south when I'd just say I couldn't work. sometimes my brain couldn't do what came very naturally to me, I'd start to forget things and make mistakes. Now if I forgot to take my medication in the morning it was apparent within two hours as everything would go full shit storm and I'd just become a nightmare to work with.

Three months into the year I had my medication upped to 100mg. Six months after that it was maxed out at 200mg. This brings me to September or October 2014. We would shuffle the rota around at work to make it work for me when I had these episodes that would lead to a week off work, just to cool my jets and calm my brain. Nobody knew a whole new beast was about to be born, a sickness so dark it was like staring into a pot of Marmite.

It should have been apparent, My speech was at so fast and erratic people complained that I made no sense. I'd gone completely over the top. Sleep became less and less but these conflicting moods had started to come back down again. I honestly think I was manic only for a few days but nobody knew or saw the signs, why? because I hid.

I stopped washing, my appetite had disappeared and I was sitting playing Dragon Age Inquisition, I remember that fact but fuck me I can't remember a thing about that game. I didn't go to work, I didn't tell anybody where I was and I stayed at somebodies house and just kept to myself, I was obsessed about a crack in a T.V so I spent £500 on a new one and sat. I hadn't realised or began to question the fact that someone was in the garden watching me, every time I changed my glance and tried to catch them looking at me they had gone, I spent a lot of time with the doors locked and the curtains closed after that because they were out there and I didn't like that they were apparently as fast as shit when it came to moving out of the way.

My parents turned up one day, I remember that. I think my manager had spoke to my Mum saying I'd kind of disappeared. where I was hiding had now been compromised, had the person spying on me told everyone where I was? No, the owner of said hiding place had rang my parents as well because I was scaring them. I don't know what I had done, I dread to think of it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact I hadn't slept in just over a week.

So a few facts I'd missed out up to this point is that when my medication was upped to 100mg I'd started telling the doctors they where idiots, that If you asked anyone that knew me and put the key factors of someone with bipolar in front of them they'd agree with my thought process and methods of deduction. I'm not Sherlock Holmes, I'm just smarter than most idiots reading personalities off computer screens that in my mind have frankly given up. They just tell you to move on until the next ant walks in convinced they're dying then tell them to take paracetamol and ibuprofen.

This doctor cracked and got me a one to one with someone from Danetree mental health team, this woman was a moron. I'd judged and assessed the situation before I had even sat down, I knew what was about to happen. I fill in a form and everything is red, this is apparently not good at all. She tells me I'm fine, Before I get up and walk out of the office I tell her I'm going to walk in front of a bus just  to prove her wrong. Maybe that was the day I tried to drive my car into something really fast. I can't remember If I'm honest but I'm not happy at all.

Now the doctor I saw when my medication had been upped to 200mg, I went back and saw a week later asking for sleeping pills, he was the man that was alarmed, I wound him up, he said I was a danger, I laughed at the fact his phone was broken, everytime he left the room I'd fuck with his stuff, un plug phones, pull out cards from his computer. move something. why? because he wouldn't tell me what I wanted to hear, I needed confirmation, a title.

Now the title came at a heavy price, taking sleeping pills and managing to stay awake for a week is something I'm pretty sure shouldn't happen.

I remember screaming and banging my head on the floor, I remember talking to someone on the phone that said my name wrong and called me Josh, This lead to her telling my parents on the phone that I'd made it up and she hadn't called me Josh, I went fucking apeshit, How could someone dealing with an extremely suicidal paranoid insomniac also claim I was a liar. Oh did I break, I remember being emotionally ruined on the floor completely broken in a pool of tears and spit. I'd just crack my head on the floor and scream more and more. My dad lost his temper when she finally said she'd called me the wrong name. I don't remember what happened after that. At all. Like nothing at all, I think that's when the cork had popped out, only with a lack of celebration.

I felt like I had super powers, everything was heightened and this isn't a joke, my hearing became so good I could hear people pulling up, closing the car door and walking to my door before it had even happened.

I'd say things would happen before they would.

I remember the 6th of November 2014 and then I start to remember things from around the 26th December 2014.

I'll try and put a path together of pieces of what I remember but I'm clearly splitting this into three.


My Twitter is @winslowbateman
My Instagram is www.instagram.com/fi5h5tick5/
also I have Twitch www.twitch.tv/fi5h5tick5/profile

Peace and love.

Caleb, FI5H5TICK5 and every name inbetween.

The response so far has been amazing with the blog being read over 500 times just for 2 updates, which doesn't seem like a lot but it's something and the message that's started of small gets bigger with each update. I hope it shines some light on such a dark subject thats completely ignored in the work place, schools and every other social situation. 

Thank you again 

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