How much louder can I ask for help??

Gog here.

For several months Anon’s overall anxiety levels have been high, but worse is that about 4-5 days a week, she has the highest level of panic I have ever seen.

A lot of times she can’t even talk. She is overflowing with anxiety, is absolutely panicked and doesn’t know why, and if the slightest thing goes wrong (eg. she can’t find something she wants) she bursts into tears. When you’re already trying to cope with so much, it only takes one thing to push you over the edge.

Today she was so overwhelmed with panic that she was curled on the footstool with her arms over her head, just trying to survive minute by minute. It is excruciating to watch.

Anon cried at me today that she needs help, but we can’t get it as she is too ill to make it to any appointments, and the NHS are unwilling to help us overcome that – they have said no to home visits, email contact and video calls.

We can’t live like this.

Today I phoned our GP surgery and asked for an urgent telephone appointment, where the Doctor would talk with me. I’m getting a call back in a few hours, which is weird as normally they try make us wait 5+ days.

I’m nervous about this phone call. Firstly because the last time I had a telephone appointment, the Doctor was absolutely disgusting as he couldn’t talk with Anon. And also because if something goes wrong with this call, it will break Anon.

My hope with this phone call is that we will have an understanding and sympathetic GP.

I will spell it out: Anon is too panicked, anxious and scared to physically get to an appointment. This is our problem!!

Not only is she terrified of appointments after abhorrent treatment, but her terror is so bad she can rarely leave the house now, and certainly can’t cope with busy places (this is why dog walks are usually safe: Anon is with a dog (which almost always helps her), she’s in the countryside, there’s lots of open space and very few people).

Obviously we can’t get treatment until Anon’s panic has been reduced. I would like Anon to start on an anti-anxiety drug (such as an SSRI or Tricyclic antidepressant) to see if we can reduce her anxiety, and see how she is then. It’s my hope that we can then get further help and attend appointments.

Not too hard to understand, I hope.

I imagine they will bring up the point that Anon has been diagnosed with bipolar, and so a anti-depressant could trigger mania in her.

My response will be: At this point mania would be far easier to manage than this constant fear and psychosis. With mania Anon gains confidence and motivation, and in general low-down appointments are a breeze.

Secondly only one antidepressant has ever made Anon manic, and it wasn’t an SSRI.

Also we are not sure how much the diagnosis of bipolar really suits Anon anymore. She no longer has clear or long-lasting mood episodes (rather it seems she’s just constantly fucked mood-wise…) and she has constant psychosis. Not exactly bipolar.

Finally, if you’re not willing to prescribe something to help her panic…what do you suggest then?! Because all I’ve been advised so far is “just bring her to the appointment”, and that really isn’t happening.

The other thing I’m concerned about is that he won’t be willing to prescribe anything without seeing Anon at an appointment. I’d basically be replying that if he wants to see her he will have to do a home visit, and he’ll have to do it soon because we can’t cope.


Whilst reading about anti-anxiety medication I ended up discovering ‘panic disorder’, which was something neither of us had heard of before.

I’d always thought panic attacks were short in duration and usually involved hysterical crying / hyperventilation, but according to the NHS site with panic attacks…

“You may experience an overwhelming sense of fear, apprehension and anxiety. As well as these feelings, you may also have physical symptoms such as:

  • nausea
  • sweating
  • trembling
  • a sensation that your heart is beating irregularly”

Hmm, that’s a lot of Anon right there…

I hope this phone call goes well, and I’m almost 100% certain it won’t 😦


This isn’t real

Spacey-head ‘the world’s not real’ has struck.

I know 100% the world isn;t real. I know I’m not typing this I’m not thinking this I’m not in control of this. I know somebody is controlling me but sometimes their control slips and I know, I realise.

I know this. This is truth. I know it just how anybody reading this blog knows if they hold out a book and let go it will fall to the floor and not float to the ceiling.

People don’t understand that telling me things aren’t real and expecting me to go “oh shit, you’re right!” doesn’t work…because if I told you to look at the sky, and that the sky was actually red not blue, you wouldn’t believe it.

Me and my partner try have a thing where I believe him, whatever he says I have to believe him…if says something I’m thinking isn’t true or something I’m seeing isn’t there, I’m supposed to try my hardest to believe he’s telling the truth. But obviously it’s not easy. At all.

I can sit here and think “this isn’t real, nobody’s controlling me” over and over until the cows come home…but I’m still not going to believe what I’m telling myself, because my reality is saying different.

I can;t work out if it’s me typung this or them.


Stuck stuck stuck

Gog phoned up Mind and Bipolar UK today, to ask for absolutely any ideas on how we can move forward in getting help…neither had any suggestions.

Mind was the most helpful surprisingly (in fact Bipolar UK kinda sucked, which shocked us because they’re normally *really* helpful). Mind told us to ring a different local branch of social services, and said they can send out one of their trained volunteers to offer support, as a kind of in-between step, a kind of practice appt.

I’ve had Valium a few times today, whenever my panic’s been suffocating. I can feel the fear bubbling beneath, but it’s not overwhelming when I’ve had a Valium, and I can let my mind rest and concentrate on other things. I’ve been colouring again.

I’ve had some wildly low moments today. I’ve had some incredibly angry and frustrated moments, and I’ve felt lonely and hopeless all day.

I feel stuck, and like my Bipolar has bested me once and for all. I’m ready to give up. Really, I just want all this fear and pain to stop.

I don’t know where we go from here, because I can’t get help, I can’t go to appts…I have a panic attack whenever I talk about them with my partner.

fucking hate Bipolar.


Panic and Valium

The past few days I’ve been taking Valium as needed.

I have Valium left over from when I was really psychotic, and all the crap GP we saw wanted to do was dope me out of my eyeballs…the first few days I took the dose he prescribed, and I was so zombied out I couldn’t move or talk.

We lowered the dose ourselves, so we have a lot left over.

I’ve been feeling so terrified these past few days that I’ve been taking 2.5mg of Valium whenever I need to, and it’s been immensely helpful. It winds the panic down to anxiety, which I can cope with.

This morning I’m so scared, for no apparent reason. I’m trembling, I feel sick, my heart is racing, and my palms are sweating. I feel on the verge of a panic attack.

I think what’s triggered this immense terror is that we’ve said we’re going to call the charity Bipolar UK today, and even though that shouldn’t be scary at all…apparently it is.

My mood is still extremely low. My psychosis has been worse than usual for a week or so now, so I guess the increase in anxiety could be linked to that too. I feel drained and scrambled.

I just raged at my partner because he talked about him ‘trying to keep me safe’, and I asked him if he realised how fucking cruel he was being. Yes, he’s trying to keep me physically safe, but he’s not lifting a fucking finger to try and help me mentally.

It’s TORTURE being unable to end this misery. I told him he’s like a zoo ‘rescuing’ an endangered animal, then letting it live for years in a tiny concrete enclosure. Sure it’s physically safe, but mentally it would have been better off dead.

It’s all well and good keeping me safe, but I also need help to fix my mental state. I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS.

Time to take half a Valium…



Panicking, don’t know why. I think because I’ve talked a lot about MH appts today and I really do think after all the trauma of those last appts, I’m damaged. I get so anxious.

Even thinking about those last appts has me panicked, trembling and nauseous. When my partner tries to talk about going to an appt in the future, I have a panic attack.

I’m sat here with my heart racing, head hurting; can’t think or sit still or concentrate. Don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with this.

I’ve been chatting to my parents and my partner, playing with my pets, for 45 minutes now and I’m freaking out worse than ever.

My partner gave me half a Valium (we still have some left over from the disastrous GP appt months ago), I really hope it will help calm me.

My mood is so extremely low. Tired of this struggle.



Hit me like a ton of bricks.

I can’t live anymore, I don’t deserve to live anymore, this isn’t a life.

I’m screaming and crying on the inside, but on the outside I can’t even talk. I look bored if anything. Gog asks me something; I shrug or shake my head. I can’t talk or let out any emotion, because I’ll break into a million pieces.

I think this is why nobody understands when I’m really ill, because I don’t show it…I’m not sat here in tears, or screaming…I’m blank. Closed off. In the past I’ve told social workers I feel desperate and suicidal, but they saw someone who looked okay and judged me on that.

I wish people understood.

I sat staring at a suicide prevention online chat for over an hour tonight, trying to work up the courage to talk to someone…I don’t deserve to talk to someone, I’d be wasting their time…I finally hit the ‘chat to someone’ button, but all the trained volunteers were busy. I suck at talking to people anyway.

Gog’s here so I’m not in danger, unless I planned and timed it all very well, but I don’t think he’ll leave me alone anyway now. He knows I feel pretty damn bad.

I’m just too tired to talk. I physically can’t get the words out.

I’m extremely depressed. I’m anxious. I have this burning self-hatred and I feel like I’m drowning…I’m not good enough to live. I’m not good enough to talk to Gog. I don’t love him enough. I don’t tell him he’s good enough. It’s my fault things go wrong; it was my fault our puppy hurt her leg. I deserve to feel like this. I don’t deserve help. I’m a lazy, selfish, horrible bitch. I am disgusting.

I’m being worn down. I’ve been worn down.

This blog is so eloquent and I’m such a mess, I don’t understand it. I feel like this blog reads how I look on the outside.

I’m not in danger, that’s not the worry here. I wish it was the worry, I wish I could act on this…not knowing how long this is going to last is possibly the worst thing.


I’m not Bipolar

I always accepted my Bipolar diagnosis, because I fit all the criteria.

Before 2014 I was diagnosed with MDD, but when that didn’t explain the manic symptoms, they tried BPD…but I missed the key symptoms there, like fear of abandonment and black and white thinking.

Even so that damn label stuck for several years before they slapped me with Bipolar, and after looking it up online, I agreed.

In fact it felt reassuring to finally know what was ‘wrong’ with me, and not have to repeatedly explain why I didn’t feel like BPD was right…with Bipolar I had the symptoms, the pattern; everything made sense.

Now, some six years after first presenting Bipolar symptoms, I don’t fit the diagnosis anymore.

My mood is all over the place – at some points in the day I am wildly energetic and speeding, at others I am suicidal and tearful.

My mood doesn’t respond to triggers – one second I’ll be happy, the next suicidal. Or sometimes tiny triggers cause huge shifts in mood. Sleep makes no difference in my mood, for example after sleeping so much last night I spent the first half of today speeding.

Earlier in the day I cut all my hair off – not in my usual manic  way (I have a habit of shaving my hair really short when manic), oh no, this time I used a strimmer to get it as short as possible, then used Gog’s shaving foam and a razor to get all my hair off.

I was anxious and racing and energetic. I cut my hair because I was bored, because I was sure it was a great idea, and also so that if I became ill and lost my hair…well, it would already be gone!

Now, five hours later, I am incredibly catastrophically low. I can’t talk or answer questions with anything other than a shrug, a ‘yes’, or a ‘no’.

I’m feeling destroyed about things that happened in the past; some happened months ago, some years. I’ve always sucked at letting go of the past, things I did at primary school still mortify me…it’s always been a downfall of mine.

I’m still having psychotic symptoms 24/7. You don’t get that with Bipolar.

My sleep habits (try to) change all the time; not just the amount I sleep but when, too. For no reason sometimes my body tries to be nocturnal – when I let it, I’d go from sleeping 11pm-9am to 6am-4pm overnight, and it would last for months before changing back.

My personal hygeine is shot to shit, no matter the mood…either I don’t care, I’m too busy, or I don’t have the strength to shower and brush my teeth. At least I don’t have hair to bother with anymore…

Everyday it feels like things change and get a little worse.

I honestly don’t think I have Bipolar anymore, I don’t think my symptoms can / should be classed as that. I do think anti-psychotic medication or possibly a mood stabiliser would help, but that’s not a possibility.

After continuously fighting for a psychiatric evaluation since November 2015 and not getting one (but repeatedly been promised one in a few weeks’ time), I don’t have the strength to continue that battle anymore. Besides, the ball’s in their court, they’re the ones who’re supposed to be ringing us!

I won’t go to any mental health appts anyway. These days they freak me out too much. At this point I feel like some of the worst appts have traumatised me…I bruise easily.

I honestly don’t believe getting professional help does anything positive. I’ve spent years doing everything they wanted me to; taking every medication, going to crappy accupuncture that I hated but did to shut my bullying SW up, going to pointless meetings with social workers every few weeks and sitting in silence as they either offered bland advice or drove me to tears…those years of jumping through hoops left me just as ill as I am now, in different ways.

I don’t need to be told to ‘keep fighting’ or ‘just try one more appt’ or ‘just phone the service up and ask what’s happening’…we did all that for months, and now I am past the point of being able to cope with any of it.

If I get any comments that advise me to phone someone / keep trying to get professional help, they’ll either be deleted, ignored, or given a nasty response…I apologise, but that is not needed right now.