I never know how sick I am. I know that's common in bipolar. If it's bad I can tell that I'm sick, but it's only afterward once I've got some stability back that I understand how bad it was. If it's not so bad I often don't realise I'm sick at all. I've mentioned that I was manic in the fall. I knew that I was sick, but not how bad, and I wasn't honest with my psychiatrist about what was going on. I held it together as best I could for my appointments. I'm sure she could see that I was off, but I'm an expert at looking more okay than I am. Someone who cares very much and knows me well enough to see through my mask very nearly called 911 on me at one point, and she told me later how deeply she regretted not doing it. Looking back once my head cleared, I definitely would have admitted me.
Which brings me to now. When the bomb was dropped at school in November, only about a week after my head cleared from the mania, I thought I handled it well. I really thought I was okay, and just lately had that waxing and waning mild depression that I'd mentioned in my other thread. But my head's cleared again. I've been at my full dose of Lamictal for about two months, so it's right on schedule for it to have taken full effect. Apparently I've been depressed since mid-November, and I've dug myself quite a hole academically. I've always been a solid B student, which in our program is quite respectable. This year I'm sitting at a C, which is a significant drop if you convert it to percentages, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to salvage that. That means I'm going to lose my scholarship, and it may close some doors that I was counting on walking through toward my future as well. There are alternate routes to get to where I want to go, but they're more difficult and take longer, and in my 40s I'm not always sure that's time I actually have. I'm worried, and I'm pissed off that I've done this to myself. I realise intellectually that it's an illness that's out of my control, and it isn't actually my fault, but emotionally it doesn't feel that way. It feels like I screwed up my own future, and I'm not sure I'll be able to save it.
I hate this disease!
Which brings me to now. When the bomb was dropped at school in November, only about a week after my head cleared from the mania, I thought I handled it well. I really thought I was okay, and just lately had that waxing and waning mild depression that I'd mentioned in my other thread. But my head's cleared again. I've been at my full dose of Lamictal for about two months, so it's right on schedule for it to have taken full effect. Apparently I've been depressed since mid-November, and I've dug myself quite a hole academically. I've always been a solid B student, which in our program is quite respectable. This year I'm sitting at a C, which is a significant drop if you convert it to percentages, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to salvage that. That means I'm going to lose my scholarship, and it may close some doors that I was counting on walking through toward my future as well. There are alternate routes to get to where I want to go, but they're more difficult and take longer, and in my 40s I'm not always sure that's time I actually have. I'm worried, and I'm pissed off that I've done this to myself. I realise intellectually that it's an illness that's out of my control, and it isn't actually my fault, but emotionally it doesn't feel that way. It feels like I screwed up my own future, and I'm not sure I'll be able to save it.
I hate this disease!
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