Some answers...
Brandy asked me this today:
can I as a very personal question? and you don't have to answer, but I was wondering why you felt the need to cut yourself? I know you take meds and this helps with your "manic" urges but I never understood about the cutting?
I'm going to give you a very complicated answer.
Meds help with chemistry. Bipolar is about being manic and depressive. I take mood stabilizers to try and even out the manic from the depressive. I take an anti-anxiety drug so I am not so nervous all the time. However, neither of these drugs directly treats depression. I have adverse reactions to anti-depressive drugs. Some anti-depressants can trigger mania, which I have experienced, and some just don't work at all. It can be very complicated. I will be adjusting my meds for the rest of my life probably, I am a rapid cycler and my chemistry changes quickly, meaning that I don't go on traditionally long bursts of manic or depression, I cycle through a day. When I was undiagnosed I had so much going on at once that I rarely knew what was even going on around me. I have very few clear memories of these times. That, of course could be because I was either drunk or using any number of drugs all at once.
Drugs suppress the cycling, not get rid of it. There is no CURE for Bipolar Disorder. So I cycle regularly, I'm sensitive to it, I can still feel it, pulsing under my skin, waiting to get out. That is what I was referring to this morning, not cutting, not specifically anyway. Sometimes it feels like all I do is play a part, that I play someone who isn't me, because I take the drugs, because I'm compliant. Don't get me wrong, I want to lead a "normal" life. Whatever that is. But there are times when I feel so fake, so contrived, and for moments it seems like it might be better to just stop, and be who I am inside. I've been told over and over that the drugs "let" me be who I really am. I'm not so sure sometimes, this isn't who I would be if I didn't take drugs, so how can it be who I am? Its a confusing thought, one I'll probably always deal with. But I've seen how it hurts the people I really do love to be off my drugs. Combined with his bad decisions it broke me and E up. I can see pain in D's eyes every time I step off the wagon and have an episode. I see the same pain on my parents faces, too. My actions cause other people pain. So I do this, I take these drugs because I love them, I hope someday I do it because I love myself. That's what I go to therapy for I guess. Because drugs don't just solve life's problems. You have to work at it. Hard.
Now to address cutting specifically, which was of course the original question... I was not always a cutter. Some people have done it since high school, or junior high. I have only done it since last year. When I was younger I was what they call a "wrist banger" I hit myself over and over to release pain. I suppose that's what hurting yourself is really all about, a physical release of mental anguish. That's what the "experts" will tell you anyway. For me, it made it real. There it was, bruised and ugly, I wasn't just making the pain up. I cut because I used to believe that I could feel it oozing out of me. Because Brandy, and whoever else is reading this, it's like having a monster inside. To have a mental illness can be like having something evil inside you. Maybe that's just me though. There are a lot of bipolar people who enjoy it. That's why they resist medication, it makes them feel powerful. It made me feel powerful, powerful enough to really hurt people. People who have met me in real life might tell you I'm a nice person. People who REALLY know me will tell you I'm not. I will tell you, inside, off my meds, I can be downright cruel. I remember cutting myself for the first time, as blood dripped into the sink from my arms I almost felt religious. Like I was draining the evil out of me. In fact eventually that is what my suicide letter said; " I can't be so evil anymore, please forgive me." and a lot of other stupid suicide note shit. I have scars to remind me of those times. Sometimes its embarrassing. When it first started to get warm this year I remembered that I have scars all over my wrists. I don't care. I forced myself to live. Some days I'm not happy with that decision, I don't know what else to do but continue living. At this point, I might as well see what happens.
As for the earlier posted question: "what are you" by one eunice bijou, I'm going to give you the most honest answer I can think of:
I am a self-centered person, narcissistic in every way. I am generous at times when it suits me, the same goes for being kind. I want to believe I do things because I love people, but I really just want recognition. I believe that I am the world's most fantastic wuss. If I was brave at all I'd have cut deeper and faster last year on May 8th. I'll admit that when I whine and bitch I want someone to feel sorry for me. I take my drugs because I want to see what happens, just like all the other fucking drugs I've put into my system. Difference is these are approved by the FDA and all the coke I insisted on putting up my nose daily wasn't. I am manipulative and I play the victim. Lately I've used my disease to get out of a lot of shit I should have stayed and dealt with myself. I am weak-willed and I believe that I may have a slightly dysfunctional addiction to sex. I believe that I am smarter than a whole bunch of people in the world and probably prettier too. But I will never say it to your face. I am a liar when it feels good and far too honest when it doesn't. I could be lying right now I suppose but what would be the point? The TRUTH is that most of these things I'm ok with, I'm ok with them because I know that I want them to change. Some days I miss being crazy, I didn't have to be accountable for myself then, and that was a whole fuck-of-a-lot easier than this.
Any other questions may be addressed to me at archangel131313@hotmail.com and I will get on the answers right away.. Or of course feel free to post your questions in the comments section. Thank you and have a pleasant day.
Brandy asked me this today:
can I as a very personal question? and you don't have to answer, but I was wondering why you felt the need to cut yourself? I know you take meds and this helps with your "manic" urges but I never understood about the cutting?
I'm going to give you a very complicated answer.
Meds help with chemistry. Bipolar is about being manic and depressive. I take mood stabilizers to try and even out the manic from the depressive. I take an anti-anxiety drug so I am not so nervous all the time. However, neither of these drugs directly treats depression. I have adverse reactions to anti-depressive drugs. Some anti-depressants can trigger mania, which I have experienced, and some just don't work at all. It can be very complicated. I will be adjusting my meds for the rest of my life probably, I am a rapid cycler and my chemistry changes quickly, meaning that I don't go on traditionally long bursts of manic or depression, I cycle through a day. When I was undiagnosed I had so much going on at once that I rarely knew what was even going on around me. I have very few clear memories of these times. That, of course could be because I was either drunk or using any number of drugs all at once.
Drugs suppress the cycling, not get rid of it. There is no CURE for Bipolar Disorder. So I cycle regularly, I'm sensitive to it, I can still feel it, pulsing under my skin, waiting to get out. That is what I was referring to this morning, not cutting, not specifically anyway. Sometimes it feels like all I do is play a part, that I play someone who isn't me, because I take the drugs, because I'm compliant. Don't get me wrong, I want to lead a "normal" life. Whatever that is. But there are times when I feel so fake, so contrived, and for moments it seems like it might be better to just stop, and be who I am inside. I've been told over and over that the drugs "let" me be who I really am. I'm not so sure sometimes, this isn't who I would be if I didn't take drugs, so how can it be who I am? Its a confusing thought, one I'll probably always deal with. But I've seen how it hurts the people I really do love to be off my drugs. Combined with his bad decisions it broke me and E up. I can see pain in D's eyes every time I step off the wagon and have an episode. I see the same pain on my parents faces, too. My actions cause other people pain. So I do this, I take these drugs because I love them, I hope someday I do it because I love myself. That's what I go to therapy for I guess. Because drugs don't just solve life's problems. You have to work at it. Hard.
Now to address cutting specifically, which was of course the original question... I was not always a cutter. Some people have done it since high school, or junior high. I have only done it since last year. When I was younger I was what they call a "wrist banger" I hit myself over and over to release pain. I suppose that's what hurting yourself is really all about, a physical release of mental anguish. That's what the "experts" will tell you anyway. For me, it made it real. There it was, bruised and ugly, I wasn't just making the pain up. I cut because I used to believe that I could feel it oozing out of me. Because Brandy, and whoever else is reading this, it's like having a monster inside. To have a mental illness can be like having something evil inside you. Maybe that's just me though. There are a lot of bipolar people who enjoy it. That's why they resist medication, it makes them feel powerful. It made me feel powerful, powerful enough to really hurt people. People who have met me in real life might tell you I'm a nice person. People who REALLY know me will tell you I'm not. I will tell you, inside, off my meds, I can be downright cruel. I remember cutting myself for the first time, as blood dripped into the sink from my arms I almost felt religious. Like I was draining the evil out of me. In fact eventually that is what my suicide letter said; " I can't be so evil anymore, please forgive me." and a lot of other stupid suicide note shit. I have scars to remind me of those times. Sometimes its embarrassing. When it first started to get warm this year I remembered that I have scars all over my wrists. I don't care. I forced myself to live. Some days I'm not happy with that decision, I don't know what else to do but continue living. At this point, I might as well see what happens.
As for the earlier posted question: "what are you" by one eunice bijou, I'm going to give you the most honest answer I can think of:
I am a self-centered person, narcissistic in every way. I am generous at times when it suits me, the same goes for being kind. I want to believe I do things because I love people, but I really just want recognition. I believe that I am the world's most fantastic wuss. If I was brave at all I'd have cut deeper and faster last year on May 8th. I'll admit that when I whine and bitch I want someone to feel sorry for me. I take my drugs because I want to see what happens, just like all the other fucking drugs I've put into my system. Difference is these are approved by the FDA and all the coke I insisted on putting up my nose daily wasn't. I am manipulative and I play the victim. Lately I've used my disease to get out of a lot of shit I should have stayed and dealt with myself. I am weak-willed and I believe that I may have a slightly dysfunctional addiction to sex. I believe that I am smarter than a whole bunch of people in the world and probably prettier too. But I will never say it to your face. I am a liar when it feels good and far too honest when it doesn't. I could be lying right now I suppose but what would be the point? The TRUTH is that most of these things I'm ok with, I'm ok with them because I know that I want them to change. Some days I miss being crazy, I didn't have to be accountable for myself then, and that was a whole fuck-of-a-lot easier than this.
Any other questions may be addressed to me at archangel131313@hotmail.com and I will get on the answers right away.. Or of course feel free to post your questions in the comments section. Thank you and have a pleasant day.
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