Let me note that this my trigger. Let me also note that I am not suicidal.

I am doing fine now. A couple of days ago the normal stress of normal stuff got to me. I cut. It was stupid and I recommend not doing it. I started in early high school for attention, not any attention. I knew something was wrong, I wanted to scream out to the world "Please, somebody, notice that something is not right with me, notice I am struggling, notice that I need help." But no body noticed, perhaps because I appeared very cheerful, aside from random bursts of anger, frustration, and depression. My grades were always good, I emerged myself in study and music. Music always was steady. Practice and you do well. People didn't see the depression very often. They just thought I was weird. Society is very cold. One person saw, one person helped. I can't understand if it was the kindness in his heart or the fear of guilt. He is not mentioned anymore, because his sight is blinded and his heart is cold. Sometimes I dream about him, how I always imagined him, not how he is. He kept me going through high school where I had no diagnosis, no answers.

Now I do have answers, I should know better and know how to control myself. No one tells me about coping skills. I haven't seen my therapist yet and my psych people are very...right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing and have some pills. Very frustrating. I called the crisis center. For the first time someone helped out side me and Fiance.

Fiance was furious, upset, betrayed. He almost sent me to be 96ed, though it wasn't suicide it was just frustration. We almost went to the hospital because it was a deeper than normal cut. It wasn't hospital worthy, just a little scary. I don't blame him, though. I was stupid and made him worry. He should leave me. Sometimes I believe I am unfixable or I don't want to be fixed. Sometimes I give up. I think he stays because I keep trying, I keep looking for how to live and be normal when my head is not. I love him very much and it is hard to go through this and know that he is having to be stronger than most to be with me. Sometimes I want him to go, to be happy, but I cannot bear the thought of being alone, as Fiance is my best friend and the first person to treat me right and understand me and it the best he can. He Who Was Mentioned Before tried. I think it was some kindness and some love, but not the same as Fiance. Which is why Fiance is a named so (eventually we will have to change his name, hopefully.) I have such hatred to myself for putting such a burden on him and such a fear that it will be too much and I will be alone. I must get better. I do not know how long I can be sick before something horrible happens and I do not know how much more he can stand of sick days.

General update: I'm on pristiq and Invega and doing very well generally. I can finally stay awake all day. I get things done.

My problem is with my mom. Specifically her respect towards my stuff. She lost a Scentsy plug in Fiance's mom bought me last summer. She said she "threw it out." I don't know what you think "to throw out" means, but to me it means to throw into the trash, to go to a dump, to sit there and rot. To my mom it means "to put away." That's something that's always bothered me, that something is thrown away when it doesn't need to be. Thinking about an object, a beloved teddy bear, a Barbie, anything, sitting there alone in the dump; birds pooping on it, the wind, the weather beating on it. Perhaps this object has some sort of feelings, once feelings of a loving home now turned to bitter regret, wishing "mommy" would come and save it. I really like my personal items. I don't like throwing them away. I'm not a hoarder, though my house is a little messy.

My mom threw everything on my bedroom floor into a bag. She was going to throw it away. She ruined a pair of PJs because a pen was open. She almost threw away my most worn favorite pair of shoes. I must have been around 12. I had a feather boa and fan from Cracker Barrel (the south is littered with them) and I loved them. My mom threw them away because I didn't put them away. I had a debate tournament that was close to home so I could go to bed early, get up later, function on a normal amount of sleep. She wrecks my room. All the things I shove to the edges she tosses on my bed and the floor. I stay up three hours just to go to bed. Why? why does this woman do these things to me? She gave my barbies away to a charity. I was there. I should have begged to keep them. I miss them so much, each had their own little personality. I loved playing out movies with them. I know some little girl who is underprivileged has them, probably loves them just as much. But I want my future daughter to have them. I want to love them still. But that doesn't matter to that woman. All that matters is a clean house.

I am simply lazy and selfish and fat to her. Let me state that I am not fat, I'm very slightly chubby. Every time I see her there's a comment about my weight. I had female issues, my periods were a year long and she never took me to a doctor for it. I went when I started college. She knew I had a mental problem and never took me to see someone. I would have loved that. Someone to give me answers, someone to tell me I wasn't crazy to think the world is a horrible place and people are always talking about me. It's just a chemical imbalance, here take these. High school was a living hell and it was just "these are the best years of your life," or "it's all in your head." Thanks.

To make up for it, my dad was chill. He was just really sick and passed away a few years ago. I'd gladly give all the barbies in the world to have him back.

Hello fellow Bipolars and friends.
Someone made a comment in the school news paper that the art department should be one of the things cut because it doesn't contribute to the community. The fine arts are part of culture, every culture, a reflection of human spirit and diversity. It IS the community. Perhaps we should try to reach out more. I'm angry. I'm angry that someone is ignorant. I'm angry people don't know what a bassoon is. I want to educate people, tell them what we do, tell them what being a music major is like. That is my passion, music. I don't care if everyone likes to hear Mozart or John Cage. I want people to know about it. To respect it. I don't like biology, but I respect people who can do it. I feel alone in this. Very alone, as if this passion should not exist.

I have been having some major issues. Pristiq makes me very angry. Being without it one day, I was so dizzy I could not drive. I go to my doctor's office when this happens. They make an appointment for a month in the future. So helpful. I have free Meds, but they didn't tell me I had to go to their pharmacy. When I go there, they have to transfer the medication, act like I'm an idiot, and then tell me they need approval of my doctor. He leaves at 12 on Friday. It was 2 in the afternoon. I wouldn't have it until Monday. For therapy I've asked for two months ago they FINALLY asked what I need therapy for. I'm bipolar II, read my chart. I've been in three times for suicidal thoughts, I have sever depression. What do you mean what do I need therapy for!

Thank God I finally read the chapter on how to handle Bipolar conversations. It helps my fiance know what to say to me when I'm in a mood. I love his support.

My cat went into heat. If you've never seen the heat give it to me dance, it's sort of funny. She's not in pain, but poor little Boo, so frustrated.

Hello again everybody
Things have gotten better since the episode. I have been in a ok mood. I had three days of pure running around: Homework, classes, errands, rehearsal. All over the place. It's a wonder I'm still in one piece. After my sprint to the weekend, I'm pretty tired. Fiance and I feel like the other isn't paying attention. Every time we talk I feel like I just mess up more. I'm worried. Maybe I'm not meant to be in a relationship, just be alone. That's one less china shop to wreck. I feel that something is wrong, not just in our relationship, but with me. I can't put my finger on it. I can't seem to solve my life problems. I love my major, but I can't take this kind of constant stress. I also feel a little agitated, things seem to get under my skin easily. Stress or medication, I don't know.
what's wrong?
I don't know
Sure you know, how can you not?
It's depression. He doesn't need a reason. He comes, all seductive and beautiful. Then he plunders and pillages my brain, until all that is left is a skeleton of strength and cognitive ability. Then mania comes and it's "I kissed a girl and I liked it." You know you're not a lesbian, but she doesn't care. She just drags you along for the ride; you know its wrong, but you say "what they hell." The meds are just like zombie soldiers staring at you, but on the inside raging a whole war against those two.

I changed medicine, from paxil to pristiq. Not bad. Got dizzy for a few days and had an attempt at a suicide attempt. It was pathetic. I feel much better now. I quit my job and a lot of stress is gone, though I have the stress of bills and looking for a new job. I'm praying about that. I think it will be ok.

I'm in a weird place right now. I don't feel messed up enough to be messed up. It's like having a cold and you're miserable and sniffly, but not enough to stay home. I want to shout out to the world "I am bipolar, I am a sinking ship! I have no idea!" ...but who would know what to say? In the past few days i have felt pretty even which maybe the pristiq is a good change.

Fiance's great grandfather passed away after many years of Altimeters. He wasn't that close but it's still family and I don't know what will happen when his Grandmother passes. He''s uber close to her and she is the sweetest old lady! I'm worried that I am not strong enough, that he is always having to care for me and when the time comes I will be too weak to care for him. I am tired of bipolar; I wish it'd go away. I am tired of those days where I need Fiance to hold me tight and just cry, or hit something, or talk about anything. I am tired of those days where I know he is tired and I don't want to burden him but I can't help it. Sometimes I think about going away so he'd find someone better. I don't want to die. I just would like to drift into nothingness. Turn into fairy dust, or simply fall asleep. "I want to commit suicide" is so harsh and unforgiving, so many thoughts stuck to it. "why would want to do something stupid like that." "don't be dumb." Drug awareness and sex ed are taught, why can't we teach people to care, to look at the quite kid, look past the glassy gaze and say "hey, do you need to talk?" Why can't we let people know suicide isn't the only way out? But they are just lost, turned into dust. There are too many cracks to fall between. I fell between those cracks.

I don't want to die. I'm not going to commit suicide. I'm just musing. If you read this and are thinking about it, please call the suicide hotline.