Sunday, June 18, 2017

The grace of God and Luke

So its been awhile… Two years in fact… Life is still full of ups and downs… That’s the reality of the Bipolar/BPD life.
 Take this past week for instance… On my fourth date with the most beautiful man (Luke) we drove to Campbelltown and caught the train into the city for the Vivid Festival. I had not picked up that I had been hyper-manic for almost a week. I had been dealing with re-emergent trauma memories, a lack of sleep, lack of food, dehydration and finally, on the night we went to Vivid, I forgot to take my evening meds.
 But the grace of God was with me. In the form of Luke… He did not miss a beat. As my brain sped up, he kept pace. When I passed out in Circular Quay, he stayed calm and gentle, guiding me to a chair to safely pass out on and then onto the floor so that my heart rate could be restored. He joked and chatted with the paramedics all the way to St Vincent’s hospital and as my leg and chin tremored (most likely a virus triggered by dehydration) and became convinced that I had a brain tumour, he remained calm and gentle. He didn’t even bat an eyelid when I claimed to be an R.N. to the nurses and doctors caring for me!
 He guided me safely back onto the train out of Sydney on Thursday morning; took me to Shellharbour hospital for assessment (unbeknownst to me). I actually thought that being at Shellharbour ED was a process of proving to me that I wasn’t sick and didn’t need medication! Then he drove me gently home, all the while keeping pace with my break-neck mental speed.
 That night, as I was taken by ambulance to Shoalhaven ED for assessment and transfer to Mirrabook, I was high as a kite. I was convinced that my best friend was the Holy Spirit, that Luke was Jesus and that I was God… Thankfully, Luke had collapsed into bed at home and was recovering before a 12 hour shift (he’s a taxi driver).
 I met with my sister today, whom Luke had several conversations with over the course of 48hours while I was at my worst. Ames pointed out that this is as bad as I get and that if he could handle this then he could pretty much handle anything that my mental illness could dish out. I haven’t been this sick since my manic episode in 2012.
 The world is once again righting itself now that my sleep, energy and zeldox levels have been restored…

And Luke?

He’s sticking around for a while yet 😉

Wednesday, September 9, 2015


I think that I am finally coming to a place where I really love who I am, where I have come from and what I am becoming. And that is a huge thing. I finally have the whole picture. I have a way forward. I have a vision and a well-thought-out plan for the future. There aren't going to be anymore suicide attempts. I have finally figured out why they happen. I have finally managed to identify and isolate myself from the triggers. And in becoming reacquainted with the fantastic experience that is hypomania I am coming to realise that I have not been putting unrealistic expectations of myself. This is so familiar. This is me. The old me. The high-functioning, bright, bubbly, confident, efficient, productive me. For so long now I have been so frustrated with not only the unspoken "truth" that once you are diagnosed with a mental illness, you will never again be able to expect to regain your former self, but also by the persistent message from my clinicians that I have overly high expectations of myself. Of course I do. This is who I am! I am not limited by my mental illness. It is, infact, a gift. I have a lot that I want to achieve in the next 22 years, in many different areas of my life. None of it will be possible without the effective management of the Bipolar and effectively harnessing the hypomania. But it is entirely possible and totally achievable. The life that I have not dared to hope for is finally in my grasp. And, although I have to take an unconventional route to achieve everything that I want to, I actually think that it may be possible.