Pity Parties

I wish I could explain to you guys how things are for me. I overreact…a lot. The stupid thing is that I can hear myself doing it, but I have no ability, whatsoever, to stop myself. I know everyone gets upset when things don’t go as they should, but does everyone end up crying on and off for several hours, lashing out at others, yelling at people who are just trying to understand and being rude to people who are just trying to help? I don’t think so…but that’s what I always do. So once I finally calm down, I spend the next 24 hours apologizing to everyone, because I know I was just overacting.

I turn 26 this year and that means daddy’s healthcare coverage gives me the boot. For a normal 26 year old this would mean you have to decide if you want to just pay the onetime fee from the government or sign up for some cheap healthcare coverage so that you have it for a “just-in-case” scenario. I had a complete meltdown the other day when I realized that this is not the case for me. I have to have insurance, period. Without healthcare I can’t afford my medications and I can’t afford any of my doctors, which includes my mental health physicians and my knee, foot and nerve doctors. So without insurance my life would most likely come to an abrupt halt, maybe not a suicide ending, but I would most certainly be in a hospital somewhere. When I realized that this isn’t something a “normal” 26 year old would have to worry about I added another crying session into my day. I was having a big pity part for myself.

I have these moments of breakdown whenever something comes to my attention that makes me realize how difficult life is/will be because of having bipolar disorder (and other conditions). Like when I mentioned to someone about having to leave work because of a panic attack and the individual made a comment that suggested that this wasn't a good reason to have to leave work. I wanted to scream at this person that they should try working like that! You try and work when you can’t breathe, are shaking, crying and vomiting while trying to hide in a stall in the bathroom long enough to gather yourself to leave the building so you can fall completely apart in the safety of your car. It doesn’t work like that. And I tried self-soothing, but I couldn’t get a grip on myself. There was one time when it happened that I did manage to calm myself, but that time it didn’t happen…so I had to leave work with a tear streaked face, lips pressed together, focusing on the door because if I started to think about how much attention my appearance was drawing to me, I was going to lose it again. So mentioned this and this person just doesn’t understand, so I am left feeling like a completely useless young adult and once again I realize I will never get to be like all the other 20-somethings out there.

My personal favorite meltdown was when I realized that I wouldn’t get to go ice skating ever again. You see with the nerve damage in my leg I can’t lift my foot, therefore there will be no strapping on skates in my future. And I feel foolish for admitting this, but I always had it in my head that I would find a guy and we would get to be one of those cheesy couples that holds hands and skates around the rink, while freezing our asses off and I realized that I wouldn’t ever get that and I sobbed into my pillow for the better part of an hour over it.

Or when I realized that I didn’t need to be living with a roommate anymore. Not a roommate as in someone you share an apartment with, but a roommate as in someone that sleeps in the same room as I do. You see, I overreact as it is and when I am overreacting and mentally unstable it can be a volatile situation. Just ask my old college roommate who told our RA and RD that she was afraid of me…and to be honest she needed to be afraid of me…I wanted to do very awful things to her and I came close to doing some of them too There was one instance when she stopped sleeping in the room (in hindsight, the fact that she stopped sleeping in a room with me was proof that she wasn’t as dumb as I thought she was). I love her now, but back then I…well I wanted her dead. So yeah…when my meds aren’t right…I can be a little on the homicidal side of things. I know now that if we had, had separate rooms it wouldn’t have gotten as ugly as it did because I would have had a place to escape and calm down, but having to share a room with her and me not being mentally stable…well it wasn’t pretty…you can ask her if you don’t believe me.

So I have had my fair share of pity parties. But the truth is no one’s life turns out the way they hoped it would have. I got a friend that thought she would have a career working with computers, now she’s going to school to be a nurse. I got one friend that wanted to have graduated 3 years ago and be teaching by now, but life has made some turns and she is having to live with her mom right now. All of these people have had their pity parties over the hands they have been dealt One of them, God had a different idea for her life, the other God wants her in a different place for this season of her life and me…well I’m still figuring it out. I don’t know why I’ve been dealt this hand. I couldn’t tell you why I became bipolar my second year at Emmanuel, or why I started having psychotic features when I went to Lee or why I injured my knee, but I have to keep hoping there is a reason.

So when I figure it out I will let you guys know, but for now I’m just trying to learn to self-soothe. I’m trying to remember that I need to breathe and not strangle the person talking. I’m trying to remember that no one has it all together and that in places where I have it together other people struggle, and the opposite holds true as well. So I guess what I’m saying here as that we are all trying to figure it out, we are all playing it by ear and we are all flying by the seat of our pants on this journey called life.

Love, Randi