I’m having such a bad time lately, such a very bad time lately. I’m cycling so fast I don’t know if I’m coming or going. This morning I was driving around trying to get various works and errands done. I was perseverating on my latest trip to the Dr. It always feels like I’m spinning my wheels, wasting my time but more importantly like I’m just sinking further and further in. Into some bad bad place I’m never going to be able to get out of. I drive and think and cry because I feel hopeless, then I think some more and I am angry and say things inside my head I never say out loud. In my imagination I rail at the Dr. who doesn’t seem to understand, my rare hypomania is very unlikely to kill me but my depression is entirely threatening. I think about the people who threaten to kill themselves all the time, how I thought they were so full of crap, such a cheap annoying way to seek attention. I wonder if they didn’t spend a lot of time feeling the way I feel now-just more willing to make themselves heard.
I see pleasant old people and imagine they have wonderful memories keeping them warm and families and ties for comfort and a faith that gives them something to look forward to. I have none of these things and usually I can’t even be comfortable right now. A few minutes later I’m saying to myself, what is wrong with you? A terribly redundant question. There is nothing wrong right now. And there is nothing wrong for another 10, 15, 20 minutes, until some other cycle starts.

I told the doctor again, I believe I have a dopamine problem. I need a medication that kicks some dopamine into operation. I was saying the same thing to another “primary care provider” two years ago. He doesn’t want to give me a med that will do that. He is afraid it will make me hypomanic. He is however happy to give me some more seroquel, on which I gained 35 lbs in two mos. I wonder how happy he thinks I could be at 300 lbs, with diabetes and no hope of ever having a satisfying social life? I’ve never been arrested because I was hypomanic. I don’t believe I’ve ever been seriously hurt, because I was hypomanic. I’ve never hurt anyone else because I was hypomanic. What the hell does he think he’s protecting me from? It seems like he’d rather see me miserable, with my whole life crashed than take a chance I become hypomanic – which I become occasionally anyway. I have made no progress in my 4+ years of treatment.
I can’t do anything about that. But I’m still going to do whatever I can to help myself have some comfort in the rest of my life. It’s time to start concentrating on ways to enhance my dopamine level that don’t require a prescription or…
Angry, angry still angry…