The deterioration of self…

I feel as though I’m disappearing quickly and all that is left to see and feel is mania (though one day I’m sure that mania will be replaced by depression). It’s quite a dramatic thing to think and say but it is by no means the statement of a drama queen.

Last week I went away off to London/Kent for a few days with my wonderful dog who came to live with me as a rescue last year. About 6 weeks after he arrived I made a similar journey with him and he coped admirably but last week was totally different. His first visit was made whilst he was still timid and not sure of who I was or that this was his new life and last week he was brimming with confidence, playfulness and a need to demonstrate that I was his mum. It was exhausting.

On the way back home we got to Paddington station early so he could calm down and sit in the waiting room peacefully instead of the hour in Hyde Park that I’d planned. It would have been fun but he’d have been so hyped up it would have been nearly impossible for him to sit still on the train. While we were waiting for our train the sad news filtered through that there had been a death on the tracks just outside of Reading and that meant changes to the journey. We got on an earlier train and that meant a 40 minute journey at the other end by bus before a 20 minute walk home – small changes compared to somebody losing their life but the impact on me was bigger than I expected.

I found myself sat on the train crying which, being in a chronic period of mania, is unheard of these days. I felt confused and unable to cope with getting off the train, walking 100 yards and getting on the rail replacement bus. It felt as though I was facing an arduous journey. Luckily I was able to talk to the train manager and show him my railcard that states I’m disabled and he made sure I got to my bus safely.

Almost a week later I’m still exhausted. After talking to my GP this morning it’s obvious that my ability to cope with small changes has disappeared; I can no longer cope with small changes in my routine. Five years ago I’d wake up really early and go off out for day to who knows where and not think about the impact on myself – I could cope with change. Even without a dog in tow I couldn’t do that now.

I had forgotten that I had an appointment with my doctor today until I got a text reminding me. It has thrown out my plans for the day because it was a small change. It has shifted my day by about 45 minutes but my brain tells me that I can’t have the day I’d planned because the timing has changed. I get a physical feeling on one side of my head as I try to reason with myself that I can still do the things that I’d planned but it doesn’t work.

It’s acknowledged that this isn’t me, this is bipolar disorder – I want to do the things that the illness is telling me that I can’t. A friend reminded me this morning that we all have limitations and that we can’t always do the things we want or need to because we can’t get our head round them and that’s true, I’m not special or unique in that way. I struggle a little more perhaps because the illness gets in the way. It’s hard going from being a spontaneous and chaotic person to somebody who is no less chaotic but is less able to embrace it.

People often say that it’s the little things that count and in my case it’s the little things that count against me.