13 February 2011
Paranoia is the second most dangerous phase for most bipolars, especially me. IT MEANS I AM DANGEROUSLY LOW! It means I am not thinking clearly at all.
It means you can easily throw me into either A) A violent rage against you or B) A psychotic, bawling, suicidal, self harming mess (like Wednesday night) who ends up with a shot in the ass of Haldol and Ativan and locked away with other lunatics for awhile.
Things such as:
"I don't want a relationship" = "Really you're too fucked up to be a part of my life at all and I'm just going to abandon you like most other people in your life have." It also equates to "You're a piece of shit, Sarah, please die."
"Relax or Hang In There..." actually that makes me want to strangle you because if I could fucking relax and not be a paranoid psychopath I would, and if I wasn't hanging in there goddamnit I'd be dead and you'd be talking to my ashes.
"You think too much..." Well no shit! If I could stop thinking I wouldn't be triggered and depressed anywhere near as much and logic might be effective. My brain does not have an "off" button. It is constantly thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking.
Given the right circumstances the thinking becomes seriously out of control, I feel under attack, I especially feel my intelligence is under attack (I'm fucked up in the head, not goddamn stupid, I understand shit the first time you tell me), and I become rapidly suicidal (again, like Wednesday).
If you are going to have the balls to not be a fairweather friend you have to deal with your bipolar buddy at their worst. You're going to have to understand when the fuck to back off with the assaults unless you really want to attend that person's funeral.
This includes defending the paranoid, depressed, psychotic bipolar when she cannot seem to get the trigger to go away herself. You gotta remember, I'm the type that when I'm cornered and feel attacked, I'm comin' out swingin' like a motherfucker so ending triggering conversations are highly improbable with me.
Shit you say that's meant in an innocent way seriously comes across as a personal assault.
Paranoia leads me to distrust people who may have proven themselves a million times over. It doesn't matter what you say, the world IS against me, including all inhabitants, friend or enemy. Somehow, some way they are stabbing me in the back, be it just attacking me outright, or not defending me, or not knowing when the fuck to back off because they don't know that they are opening Pandora's Box.
Yes, in a clear mind one realizes the paranoia destroys relationships, no matter what level or context the relationship is. In the paranoid mind, the relationship is already fucked and the other parties are just going to abandon you. I experience thoughts/realizations/feelings/reactions that may or may not be real.
Paranoia leads to and exacerbates angst, jealousy, anxiety, depression, and possibly psychosis.
The paranoid/depressed state the point where it's probably the hardest to deal with me, and proves one's fairweatherness. Everything you do or say either gets taken wrong or is simply not believed. You're an angel one minute and a lying, manipulative, evil piece of shit the next.
If you call a friend and they don't answer the phone, obviously they're avoiding you.
If you ask a friend if they want to hang out and they decline, obviously you're not good enough to hang out with, or you're just the charity case pity friend who's only good enough to deal with occasionally on the phone, or in very short sessions.
Any excuse used to not hang out (gotta babysit, gotta wash my hair, I have "something to do" - man-speak for I'm getting laid, - I'm busy, whatever) is an obvious "fuck off, I don't want to hang out with you because you're not cool enough/good enough to hang out with".
Crushes or significant others purposely gawk at and flirt with other women in front of you just to hurt you (giving the obvious emotional response of "why the fuck ain't I good enough for them")- because honestly it's apparently fun to rip people's hearts out and then rub salt in the wound.
There is no such thing as logic at this point in time. At all. If you do have a moment when your logical brain is able to break through and kick in, it is quickly overcome by the overactive paranoid part of the brain.
I'm really not sure how a carer is supposed to deal with this, other than have a thick skin and an endless supply patience. And possibly a shoulder to cry on, and a hand to hold during therapy.
Simply put: Imagine yourself going fucking nuts, knowing you're going fucking nuts, and not being able to do anything but let the train run over you. I think I'd rather be nuts and not quite know it, like Ferdinand I.