I have dealt with Bipolar Disorder for a very long time. I have dealt with many other things, some of them for much longer. But I have to say, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) has been the most confusing and difficult of everything thus far.
I’m not up to rehashing the causal incident for this right now. It’s buried in various posts from my personal blog, but I have to do some serious organization there.
Since it began to manifest in me, Suddenly, Last Summer, I have experienced the most incredible array of symptoms. I was diagnosed in the ER with psychogenic non-epileptic seizures. I would sob and become a hysterical mess if I had to be hooked up to an IV (even a saline drip for fluids). There was anger. I dissociated from people and cut some of them from my life completely. Self-blame, feelings of violation and betrayal, lashing out. Extreme emotional reactivity without warning or understanding. Sub-clinical paranoiac episodes. Extremely volatile mood shifts. Isolating. And lately, severe insomnia.
I’ve now spent 113 of the last 123 hours awake. You’d have to know more of my history to understand why. You can look through my personal blog, I Was Just Thinking. . ., but there is no method to my madness there. Yet. I’m working on it, but for me that means it may get done in less than a day, it may get done in a year, or I may change my mind and not do it at all.
I have very definite ideas about things, you see. What I choose to do with my personal space is one of them.
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