I am bipolar!

It has been a while. I should be filled up with words, but I can hardly spit out three sentences. It has been 6 weeks since the diagnosis. I still haven’t reacted to it. I had some sort of reaction this weekend when I realized I have to take medicine every morning for the rest of my life. I can barely cope with taking it once a year. I just feel hollow! I thought I would either be relived or sad. So far I have ha two depressions lasting five months each and two hypomanic episodes lasting from 2-4 weeks.

Right now I am just happy. Just normal human being happy. And for some reason this feels so much better than hypomania. It feels real.

Luckily I am type 2.


500 calories a day

It has been a long time, and I am not making excuses.

I have always had a complicated relationship with food, ever since I was in primary school. But in 8th grade it went overboard, I had periods of over-eating and periods of no eating. I also very often found myself infront of the toilet trying to vomit up all my food.

I have had a 5 month period were I have eaten crap, absolute crap and I gained 9 kilos. The last three days I have only eaten dinner, and purely because it is the time when my family is gathered during the day. I have eaten less than 500 calories a day, and I feel fine, I feel better than fine, I have lost 2 kilos.

But I know this is wrong, I know I have to stop this, I just don’t know if I will be able to get enough help at this point, I am not sick enough for them to take immediate action, and that is what I need, because I am so caught up in my own mind I don’t believe anything other people say.

What shall I do?

Power of a number

Today someone in my classed told me I had small feet and asked what my shoe size was.

How many times a day do we ask people something that is measured in numbers? Shoe size, body length, bra size, weight, clothes size, grade on a test, age. We judge people based on a number. The worst thing, we judge ourselves because of a number. I was trying clothes at H&M yesterday. I took my normal size in clothes with me. First I tried a dress, I couldn’t even get it over my boobs. I then tried a skirt, which I couldn’t get over my but/thighs. My okay mood went into the mood I have when depressed. I felt sick looking in the mirror, and I only saw fat, I could not see myself.


Letter to a friend

Dear (friend)

I have told you alot about what is going on in my life. And you know more about it than anyone else. You also have your own problems to deal with, and I respect that. But I think you don’t understand completely what is going on inside my head. You say I am not crazy, and t feels like you slap me in the face saying my problems aren’t real. People say that as soon as you think you are crazy you aren’t crazy. So you say that I am not crazy because I am aware of how my mind works. But let me take you on a tour of my brain, and let me show you how it works;

Every day I wake up and go to school. I feel like any other person, and I believe that everyone around me goes trough the same struggles. I get a few mood swings here and there, and I know it is normal. I feel this numbness  in my head, like nothing is quite right, and that is just normal. I come home and do some homework, the overload of homework makes my head spin around and around, I can’t take it, I can’t concentrate, so I go on to watch a meaningless movie, but that is still normal. I look at the scissor on my desk, and the read marks on my arm, but this is just something every teenager goes trough. I look at a book, it lies in 500 pieces on my floor, I ripped it apart in anger, but that is something all people do.

You see? I find this normal, nothing strange about me at all. I am just a normal teenager going trough mood swings.

I look inside my notebook, the one I write poems in. I get so confused, I didn’t write that; or did I? That poem right there, about loosing control, that is just fiction right? I can’t see it. But I understand it. I know that those twisted sentences were written by me. And that is what makes me feel crazy, the words I create. They come from my head, from my life! I feel so normal. But that person in my notebook, I would call a psychologist for her immediately!

I battle the demons in my head every single day. Your demons are real people, people you can get away from for a while. My demons are my own mind, and there is no way I can get away from them, not for a single second. I am not saying my problems are worse than yours, I am saying just because my problems are in my own mind, doesn’t make them any less real. The demons terrify me, and they affect every part of my life. I don’t know when, or if I ever will be free of the demons, but please know that just because I know see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I feel normal, but the second I read what I write I am terrified of myself.

I hope you understand this better now. Or do you want me to describe it clearer?

Love; Your insane friend.


It is too much

When I went on vacation I tried to not think about everything, neither school nor the things in my mind. It worked. Until I got home. I try to untangle the nest of homework I have to do, but I have no idea where to start. And tomorrow is the appointment with the psychologist. It is simply too much. I can’t I just can’t. I want to sleep. I want to turn of my brain. I want to just watch tv-shows and make it all go away. But it keeps building itself into mountains, the things I have to do. My parents think I do nothing. But my mind is as active as it can be. I want to go away, I want to leave it all behind. I am not able to concentrate on ANYTHING. All of this sucks. This is all so pathetic. I am pathetic.


Physical pain

My head hurts, alot. But it is not because it is migraine or because of the cold. I know it is because I am mentally tired. A week of school, and then having a friend sleep over till today, I can not deal with that. After a normal week of school I have to shut myself in my room for the weekend. Most of the time I am able to take a quick trip to the mall on saturdays, and I did it today to, but now I am exhausted. And this week was no normal, yesterday in English class my anxiety kicked in, and the day before my paranoia kicked in. I just need 3-4 days, alone, in my room, with my notebook.

I hate this. I hate that I am not able to be around people for long. My whole head hurts, even my nose hurts. I am locking the door, and shutting the world out now!


A billion judgmental eyes

My fingers, can’t stay still

My body, won’t stop shaking

I am no longer in control of my own body


The people, their eyes pointed at me

The voices, so many of them

I am being judged by them all


The paintings, so real to me

The walls, with mouths and eyes

I am no longer in control of reality


Make it stop,

Please make it stop,

When will this whole thing stop?


Twisting my fingers, so not to scratch my skin

Crossing my legs, so only my hands shake

Looking for an escape, so I can run when I am no longer paralyzed


Mental problems, are they real?

I have a friend who has some problems with her family and she is getting help and everything. We talk alot about our feelings and thoughts. I was always talking to her after I had mental break downs. But then she told me about her family. I go around and think about it. Not because I actually care(read my last post) but because I feel it is my responsibility to help since she told me about it all. But now I feel like I can’t talk to her when I am having a mental breakdown. I feel like my problems aren’t as real as hers, because they only affect me, and because you can’t prove it exactly. There is nothing in my life that I can complain about, except for everything that is going on inside my head. I feel like it isn’t real, because no one can see that battlefield inside my head.

She also makes it seem like she doesn’t think I have a problem. But then I wonder. Am I mentally healthy if I rip my skin open with a scissor, if I can’t control any aspect of my mood, if I feel nothing towards friends and family? I get it I also think I am normal, until I read the things I write. If I didn’t write I would think there was absolutely nothing wrong with me.

Oh! I have my first appointment with a psychologist next monday. That will be interesting, maybe it will make things a bit clearer.


I’m sorry, but I do not care about you

I now know, think I know, why my friendships always end. And all my failed attempts to get a boyfriend.

I simply do not care. I enjoy hanging out with my friends, but I do not worry about how they are, and I do not feel guilt if I say something bad to them. Sometimes I fool myself. The act I put on is so convincing that for one nano second I feel like I actually do need this person in my life. Maybe this is the reason why I don’t like hugs? When my friend says “I don’t know what I would do without you” I do know what I would do without her, I would sit in my room and write, still with a smile on my face. When I was told that my grandfather was sent to the hospital, I did not cry because I was sad, I cried because I felt nothing. How can I feel no sadness when someone in my family is in a battle against death? I feel like the most cruel person in this world. I want to care, I want to, but I can not.

Is this because of the bullying? Or am I just so cold-hearted? Or is it a mental problem, that I can’t help? I wish to god that this is not something I unwillingly chose, I wish that this is something in which I can not control. I feel like the devil, how can I not care about all the amazing and wonderful people in my life?

Please, I need you guys more than ever. I need to know what this is, and if I am the only one. Please tell me i’m not the only one!


I feel so normal

There are times, most of the time, where I feel like everyone else. I believe that I think like everyone else do, there is nothing different in the way I think.

But then I read things I have written, poems and diary. And I become scared of my own thoughts. Sure sitting in a chair for 8 hours knitting, when you don’t like it, is not normal. Having no control of your mood, not being able to make your mood better or worse, that can’t be normal.

I feel stupid for going to the doctors and for seeking help. I feel like there is nothing wrong with me. But the girl in my notebook, she seriously need a psychologist.

People see it, more clearly than I do. Even though I believe I’m pretty good at hiding stuff. People talk, a friend said that someone in my class had discussed the fact that I was so different now than the way I was when we first started upper secondary. In the beginning I was hyper and enthusiastic ALL the time, but then I was really irritated and sad for 2 months. And my friends say they do feel like I am way more moody than any other person they know.

But now I feel so normal. I could just go ahead and cancel my appointment because I feel totally fine. But my poems, my texts! I have a very hard time believing that the girl who wrote the poems is actually me.