Yesterday, I made a post about New Years Eve 2010 (that’s not a typo, I really do mean 2010). What I wrote was something I had written in my journal at that time.
The following day, on Saturday 1 January 2011 at 9:47pm I wrote the following…
A New Year is supposed to bring new hope, new promise, an optimisim about a better life, and all I can think is that I don’t want another year of this.
It might as well be self-inflicted. Afterall, it comes from my brain. It is set on pushing me down, pulling me apart, making me no more.
What sort of life is it to be constantly battling your own sanity?
I have spent years of my life wishing I would die, wishing there was something actually wrong with me so that I had a reason to be sad, a reason to feel nothing, and everything, a reason for my worthlessness, my failure, for being nothing.
Is it normal for a seven year old to fantasise about death, to want death, to plan ways to have it?
I jumped out my window once, but changed my mind half way through. I held on to the ledge, and I have been clinging to it ever since.
Far away, this ship is taking me far away, far away from the memories, of the people who care if I live or die
The starlight, I will be chasing your starlight, until the end of my life. I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore – Muse
On Sunday 1 January 2012 I was still on 275mg Quetiapine, and I didn’t write anything in my journal. I had nothing to write. I had nothing to write because I was happy. I was occupied. I was spending time with The Olympian and some friends. We slept in until the afternoon because we didn’t get to bed until 5am, and we spent the rest of the day relaxing by the lake. I was tired, but I was happy. I couldn’t be bothered doing much, but my mood was stable. It still is.
It’s strange for me. I haven’t been this stable for years. In the past month I have stopped my contraceptive pill, had my birthday, moved myself, The Olympian and my horse across the country back to my home town. I survived Christmas, I went away on holiday with some friends, I partied all night long, and I am fine.
I can’t believe I actually had a good Christmas, and a good New Year. I can’t believe I survived the hormonal changes of removing my contraceptive pill, and the PMS that followed. I can’t believe I stayed up until 5am, that I had a few drinks, that I am okay. I can’t believe it!
It’s not like I plan to go nuts, revert back to eating junk food and drinking and staying up all night long. I told myself I could do it on New Years Eve because I deserved it, because I enjoy it, and I have worked so hard this year. I wouldn’t have done it if I had been unwell.
But my mood was stable, the drug was on hold, and so I decided to loosen my restrictions, and be free.
Just doing it this one time, knowing that it is possible, knowing that all my effort and hard work toward staying well is working – that is all I need to reassure myself that life will not always be about ups and downs, holidays won’t always be ruined by mania’s and mixed moods, my mind won’t always be confused and sick and frightened.
When the next mood change rolls around – which let’s face it, it will – there will always be hope.
I may be chasing starlight until the end of my life, but at least I know that it gets easier. And when I reach it, when I get there, it was most definitely worth the effort.