TRIGGER WARNING: low-key discussions of suicidality, complete with jokes!
Sanity has been restored.
I’ve taken the following proactive measures for better equanimity:
- I wrote to my psychiatrist, because a few people suggested it, and then it occurred to me that my bipolar (or something else–there’s a long list) might not be as well-medicated as it should be. I just told him about the problem and said he can figure out how my meds can best be adjusted. Sometimes I can tell when I need more or less of a specific med, but this is one of those times where I have no clue where the breakdown is occurring. I meet with him at the end of August.
- I met with my life coach and she wants to focus on my self-esteem. I think I have great self-esteem, but when this sort of thing happens, I become filled with self-loathing and self-hatred. She’s convinced she can improve my self-esteem and thus minimize my outbursts. More power to her! I’m willing to try it.
- I’ve discovered self-help videos on YouTube about anger, vindication, temper, etc., etc. It’s a wealth of information I’ve never tapped into.
- I might order more self-help books.
- I’ve cut ties with the contests. I often sense that these things go wrong because I subconsciously sense that something’s not working out. But ever since the person I dislike won the latest competition, I’ve realized that winning it doesn’t have any value, at least not to me. I can find other contests and/or write a new novel!
- My dad wants me to meditate. Huh. I might look into it, or into other New Age concepts, because it’s always been my language. I’ve been reading spiritual books since I was twelve, but it’s been a while. Not a bad idea!
- I spoke with my mentor, who has an amazing attitude about life that I’m trying to emulate.
Oh no. Okay, I also wrote the following joke about my experience with calling the crisis hotline. Just fair warning, this isn’t meant to be disrespectful to mental illness, but here it is:
So, yeah, I called the crisis hotline. The nice man on the phone kept asking what was wrong.
I was sobbing, of course, and couldn’t talk. He had to coax it out of me, but I finally blubbered that NBC reported who won the gymnastics event several hours before they aired it.
“Yeah,” he said. “The phone’s been ringing off the hook all day for that exact reason. I feel ya.”
It felt nice to be understood.
HA HA HA H AHAHAHHA! Ohhh noooo.
Actually, okay, that incident did come up in our conversation, but not quite like that. In reality, he managed to get me slightly calmed down after we discussed the major issues, and then he asked if I enjoy watching television, and I was sent right back into hysterics. That seems funny in retrospect. But I’m still mad at NBC. Hmmph.
(For the record, I don’t think I was ever suicidal. But I was an unholy mess. I was inconsolable and totally hysterical. It took ugly crying to a whole new level of ugly. If I hadn’t called the hotline, I think things could’ve gotten worse very quickly.)