I knew over a week ago the hypomania I’d been experiencing was coming to an end. Suddenly I was tearful. And tired. Beyond tired in fact. Completely exhausted and sleeping up to 13 hours a night. I’ve still had the odd wavers of mixed mood but mostly I’ve been down. 

I was supposed to be contacting my GP last week to check in with him how my mood was following my appointment with him a couple of weeks previously, but I didn’t. I thought about it a number of times but then forgot again. 

I was supposed to be seeing Liz my worker from Mind, but unfortunately she had to cancel the appointment. So I just plodded on, feeling pretty crap, trying to do my best to ride the wave and hoping I wouldn’t feel too bad for too long. I admit I went to ground a bit. Hiding away is always easier than facing people when I’m depressed. It doesn’t help though. Isolating myself just tends to make me feel worse. 

Then there came the recriminations that come with the descent from a hypomanic episode. My crazy behaviour and poor judgement have left me despairing. I spent all my money and have very little to show for it apart from numerous pairs of leggings and various T-shirts I didn’t need. Then there were the men. I had sex with two different men I’d never met before. I’m horrified now when I consider just how at risk I put myself. I gave my address to a third guy. The fact he didn’t show was definitely more luck than judgement on my part. Then there were the countless others I chatted online with. 

Also of those two strangers I’ve continued to see one of them, despite having real reservations. I’m genuinely concerned he’s going to turn up on my doorstep with his bags telling me he has nowhere else to go, and in my current state of mind I don’t know how I would cope with that. Oh and there’s the not-so-small matter of having had unprotected sex with him previously. I have contraception covered but only have his word that he’s clean. I know nothing about him, let alone his sexual history. How could I be so stupid? At least in part I blame the community mental health team whose job it is to care for me. I told them I was high. I told them I was scared my judgement was poor. I told them I was at risk. But they did nothing to help. My GP and Liz at Mind were suitably concerned but it’s the CMHT who should have stepped up.

Sunday evening I was feeling so shit about my life and my recent actions I found myself counting tablets. Did I have enough to do serious, permanent damage? That is, I would not wake up again. I courted the idea for a time. A hundred and four Quetiapine tablets. I wasn’t sure if that would finish me off or not. I remember thinking I should probably call the out of hours mental health team but following up that thought with, “What’s the point?”

I reached out to my faithful Twitter community and they didn’t let me down. In the end I was able to text a friend and she called me back. I put the tablets away, made myself something to eat and eventually put myself to bed. 

I saw Liz at Mind today. She was pretty horrified what I’ve been going through and was beside herself for not being able to see me last week. Also despairing that my care coordinator from the CMHT has been so useless. She’s now left a message for her to contact me urgently. Will see what happens. She also made me leave a message for my GP to call me back asap, as I hadn’t been in touch with him following my last appointment. It kind of scares me when I see people who care for me quite so concerned for my wellbeing. Makes me feel like I should be worried. It’s a shame CMHT don’t appear to give a toss and keep leaving me vulnerable. I’ll just do my best to keep plugging on. 

👼🏻