#I just found out I’m probably bipolar and my antidepressants have been fucking me up for years and then I switched to new meds but I didn’t

[gatesofember]

Do you know when you will update the original clichecore au?

I am a deeply unstable person so no

[wlovefromemo2000s]

And my Scars Remind Me that the Past is Real...

One day, you’re 18 and experiencing the joys of life for the first time. My first love, came just weeks after I turned 18. I gave him my number on a waitress’ note, signed with my nickname and a heart. He kept that piece of paper in his wallet for the entirety of our relationship. He was four years older, having graduated college when I graduated high school. A four year age gap is cake to me these days. Back then, it was difficult. Not being able to go to bars with your boyfriend? I had no idea what a bar was even like. Insecurity rang through my body. Top it off with the tolls of long distance on a fledgling relationship. Everything I had prayed for, everything I had imagined my soulmate be. The same taste in music, the hobby of stargazing. One moment, you think you’ve found the love of your life.

The first year passed, blissfully enjoying one another, with the presents of the firsts. First Thanksgiving, first Christmas, first sleepover. I’ll never forget when it really started to turn. An August evening, I had just come back from being on vacation with my family. His brother had a show that he was going to...it was at a strip club. He said the event was 21+...it was actually 18+. I could have gone. He didn’t tell me to come after he had found out it was 18+. I was annoyed because he hadn’t even bothered to find out if I could come. I was excited to see him after being a week away. already having suffered from anxiety and depression after my first year four hours away. My ego had suffered from poor grades, something I did not struggle with until I was in college. I had to reconsider my whole dream of being a doctor. That whole year, while blissful, was filled with anxiety. It’s crazy to think that at that time, I had no idea I was suffering from anxiety and depression. My entire life was changing before my eyes. This wasn’t according to plan. 

Getting back to the story of where it began to turn. He was supposed to pick me up at 10:30. He didn’t pick me up until 1 to spite me. He was angry with me for being mad that he didn’t know it was 18+. I was weak to his grip. I went down to his mother’s with him at 1:30 am, even though it was already so late and I was angry. I stared out the window, listening to Jack Mannequin’s Dark Blue on repeat with my headphones in my ears. His way of making it up to me was getting those chicken bites from Burger King on the way home.

This was the beginning of the end. That next year, I went back to college. I would secretly return home to spend weekends with him. He lived in a one bedroom apartment with his roommate and roommate’s girlfriend. Yes, they shared a room. The apartment was super small. I was eating ice cream out of the carton in his living room. The next thing I know, I am berated by his roommate. Apparently, the way I ate off the spoon was annoying and rather triggering. Having already been on the edge from my undiagnosed depression and anxiety, I had a panic attack. I had a mental breakdown. I was suicidal annd wanted nothing more than to not exist in that moment. I had never felt so small....It brought me back to the feeling that I used to get when my dad would berate me.

Having such a hardcore reaction to being berated, his roommate started to talk about how he thought I was bipolar. He had no idea what I had been through, and no self awareness to see that there was no need for such a reaction. Looking back now, I would have screamed at him and gone home. My boyfriend did nothing.

My boyfriend’s brother picked up on how insecure I was. My boyfriend probably told him. He would tell me things like my boyfriend was going to fuck any girl I was insecure of. Coworkers, people that he knew. My boyfriend did nothing.

My boyfriend’s brother shoved my face into the staircase, after telling me I should strip for a living. “You would make a lot of money because you’re thick.” My boyfriend did nothing.

My boyfriend would go to lunch with his female coworker. His brother told me that she was hot. I looked through his phone. Flirty texts, but nothing incriminating enough to break up.

A Punta Cana trip. Twenty of his friends. Day 2 and my phone isn’t working. I use his to contact my loved ones and tell them I’m safe. I get the inclination to look through the phone. A deep dive search. It’s 3 am and he’s knocked out. Texts to a woman off of craigslist. Phone calls and a burner phone. She had sent him a picture of her tits. He had sent her a picture of his face. I’m not sure what panned out, as the texts ended abruptly followed by some mysterious phone calls. I screamed at him. I broke the glass table in our room. I had made him tell his entire family what he did. I said some of the worst things I have ever said in my life. I felt captive, stuck in a miserable place. I did not know what to do. Do I tell my parents? They had paid for me to go on the trip. I didn’t want them to pay for me to come home early. He offers to leave. I do not want to stay on this trip alone with his friends. His friend’s sister was my saving grace. She was fun to hang out with and after I found out he cheated on me, they had offered for me to stay with them. Again, I felt captive. It was my own problem and I had to solve it. I quickly encountered Stockholm Syndrome, having to spend every waking minute with him for the next week. 

I had no idea what to do after that. I obviously didn’t trust him. I was sexting other men behind his back, having no loyalty after what he had done. I had told his mother what a piece of shit he was when I was drunk. I was a mess. I was my worst self. At 20, I had gained thirty pounds over the course of a year. I had to change majors, entire career paths. And I was dealing with my boyfriend and the bullies he surrounded himself with. I had never in my life felt so alone. Looking back, I can’t believe that I made it to this point. I’ll never forget, end of sophomore year. I was at my lowest point and my great grandmother reached out to me through my dreams. The girl I was then would be so proud of the woman I am today.

I’m so thankful for my friends. My best friend from elementary school had saved me in a time of need. A college party, where she asked me if I would ever be able to trust him again. I couldn’t. I would hook up with my old best friend that night, knowing that I was going to break up with my boyfriend. The next day, I went to spend the rest of the weekend with him. He knew something was up. I told him we should break up the day I go back to college. He said okay. I never went back.

I’m sitting here at the age of 25. That was 5 years ago. How far I’ve come..truly. I followed the career path I had chosen. I made new friends my junior year. Many who are my best friends today. The women around me showed me acceptance and love. There was no judgment. I was one of them now, single with the world at my fingers.

I have a great job now. I have my best friends. I have never been stronger. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Recently, I went on antidepressants. I go to therapy. The combination saved my life. I’m moving to an apartment I only ever dreamed of living in. I’m thirty pounds lighter, some of my healthiest years. My dating life is abundant. I’m fortunate to have options. It has been hard to trust again, I won’t lie. I’ve been trying to better myself. I had to work to find the self love that I had lost in that relationship. Only recently have I been able to be content being alone with myself. I’ve had to restructure my image of men. I don’t know what exactly clicked in the last year, or maybe it was the antidepressants, but I’m finally happy. I look forward to the weekends to spend time with my best friends. I enjoy going to work. My workouts and my diet fuel me. I’m proud of myself.

[mamagagax3]

Living with Bipolar disorder

So about a week ago I switched from topimax to lithium and holy hell this stuff really works. I am only on 300mg (starter dose), but I can definitely tell a HUGE difference than before. For the first time in over 6 years I am waking up and actually wanting to get up. Normally, mornings were the hardest for me. I would wake up and instantly feel overwhelmed, and full of anxiety. Now it’s so easy to wake up and take on the day. For months I thought that my anxiety medications needed to be upped, or my antidepressants, as I thought that the anxiety was making me feel so overwhelmed every day. This entire time I just wasn’t on the correct bipolar medication. It has been beyond exhausting holding onto hope, hope that I would finally find the right medication and finally begin to get better. Over the last year my doctor has basically been experimenting with me and my medications. I eventually got so sick of it and saw a new doctor for a second opinion. So I was re-evaluated and all of my medications were adjusted and lithium was finally added. I just can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve felt this kind of happiness. And to think that this whole time I was on the wrong bipolar medication. FYI to anyone who suffers from bipolar disorder, I do NOT recommend lamotrigine or topimax. The lamotrigine caused me to have severe cystic acne, and didn’t really control manic episodes, and the topimax also made me break out and it didn’t feel like it was doing anything at all to be honest. I was maxed out on antidepressants and anxiety medicine and could not understand why I was not getting better. Come to find out the antidepressants were way too high and conflicting with each other which actually caused me to have even more anxiety. Confused yet? I know that most people probably could care less about what I’m talking about, but I’m hoping that I can reach someone who is struggling and provide them with hope that they can get better. A month ago I was in the worst mental condition I’ve ever experienced. I almost lost hope. Because it’s just so easy to remain angry. Angry that I have to see all of these doctors constantly, all of the medications, just everything was draining me. You get to a point where you don’t understand why. Living with bipolar disorder can be extremely daunting. You just never know how you’re going to feel. But since I began Lithium it’s like all the lights turned on in my brain. I have finally found a medication that keeps me even. I haven’t felt so “normal” in so many years. My anxiety has reduced tremendously, and the depression is no longer present. I’ve made it. I had to dig so fucking deep to get myself out of this last depression. I had never felt so low in my life. I believe it was “rock bottom” for me. Sink or swim type of shit. And I refuse to sink. My point here is not to lose hope. Stay in constant prayer. Continue to make positive changes in your life. I’ve prayed for years for God to take away my depression and anxiety. I know that being on the right medication plays a huge role in me getting better, but God also answered my prayers. He knew that I was at my limit, my “breaking point”. I couldn’t hold onto life much longer. I’ve taken back control of my life, and no longer allow my illnesses to make all of my decisions.

I’ll be honest it’s sometimes embarrassing putting all of this stuff out there. Most people would not want anyone to know about their mental illnesses. But this topic needs to be discussed more. People need to feel comfortable talking about their illnesses.There are people out there suffering in silence. And that silence can kill you. I have been through some really scary shit in life, REALLY scary shit, and I will say that 3 weeks ago nothing mattered to me. It’s even scary to write about. But I promised myself that I would document this. When you are not scared to take your own life, it does something to you. It shook me to my core. This is a feeling I never want to feel again. I will never ever let myself get to the point where I ever feel like that again. 

As for now, I am in a really really good place. I am happy just to be alive and well. I am actually living, and damn does it feel good.

-A

[kennexara]

I don’t know the exact words for it...but I feel like there’s a distinction between people who have always been considered fat vs people who find themselves fat later in life. 

NOT a distinction like, one’s better than the other. Just....look, here’s my experience.

I started puberty maybe around like fifth grade? And remember how people put on weight before puberty? Yeah so like fourth grade is the first time I remember other kids making me feel bad about my weight. And then there was puberty where everything was awful in general. Around eighth grade, maybe, I had a huge growth spurt? Kid I hadn’t seen in years told me I looked so good since I lost weight. Adult relatives said the same. But I didn’t lose anything, I just gained height. And eventually the weight went up to match the new height and no one said I looked good again. And then I stopped growing and my weight stayed stable. Like 225ish pounds? At 5 feet 8 inches? And I didn’t...I looked in the mirror and I saw I was bigger than my classmates, but at the same time I didn’t look...I didn’t look like what I thought of as fat? I guess...one thing my body does alright is it distributes fat sort of evenly? So I still have that sought after hourglass shape, it’s just a big hourglass? 

Anyways, but then I’d see weight loss shows and these women bawling their eyes out because they’d ‘let themselves go’ and ended up at my weight? my weight that i did nothing to end up at? like this was in high school. you know, when i was on the fucking soccer team? And my mom...my mom weighed about the same but is a few inches shorter. And she still looks in the mirror and says ‘oh god I look like a cow.’ And that...that messes with me too. 

I remember being 12 and my mom finding her old jeans from when she first met my dad and I...I couldn’t fit into them. I couldn’t fit into what my mom wore at 25 when I was only 12. 

And then I went to college and got put on antidepressants and my weight started going up. Oh, there was the brief interlude where I had some suicidal ideation and wasn’t going to class or really eating and dropped below 200 for the first time since middle school. Had family members again telling me I looked so good. I had to withdraw from college due to severe depression but sure at least i was losing weight.

anyways, got put on other antidepressants that helped a bit. weight went back up again. started at community college. met girls that weighed more than me? like, for the first time in my life i wasn’t the fattest kid in the friend group? it was so weird. like, i was so proud i found a specialty ottoman that would actually hold my weight and they were like...yeah we can’t use that and i didn’t know what to say or do??

but it still bugged the shit out of me that my weight kept going up no matter what i did. like, i fucking tried eating healthy and exercising more for about four or five months. and i still gained weight at the same rate as when i didn’t exercise or attempt to eat better. i think my highest weight was about 280?

i found a new doctor to get mental health meds from for unrelated reasons (old one said i was bipolar and i do not agree with that diagnosis) but while i was there i was like, could we try some meds that DON’T cause weight gain because i feel like the sadness caused by the weight gain cancels out whatever feel good chemicals the antidepressant is giving me.

new med lady is chill and actually fucking listens and gave me new meds. and i’ve been losing weight since i started them? no change in diet. no added exercising. i eat every day but the one med does make me less hungry? so i guess the med itself caused a change in diet. i still don’t eat well, i just eat less of it. 

now i’m back to 225ish and its nice. but every reason it’s nice should not be reasons, you know? It’s nice because its easier to find clothes that fit. It’s still hard, but less hard than before. It’s nice because people treat me with a tiny bit more respect. hopefully doctors won’t be so quick to tell me to ‘lose weight’ as a solution to any health issue. These should not be things. I should be able to find clothes at any size, my health complaints should be taken seriously at any size. 

so that’s me, almost always been kinda fat. but i mentioned how my mom, and now a lot of my 30-something 40-something cousins, were all skinny for all of their youth and only later in life started gaining weight to where they or perhaps others classify them as ‘fat.’

and it’s like...i support them doing whatever they want to do. they want to go to the gym and eat salad? good for them! but could they...could they not act like it’s the end of the fucking world that they weigh more? could they not act like they absolutely HAVE to lose the weight they gained?  

could they not act like looking like me is something bad? 

i know, that because they were once skinny, they feel like they can return to that. and i understand why they want to; life is easier if you’re skinny. life and people are nicer if you’re skinny.

but i never had that. there was no before for me. fat is my default state. 

and i hesitate to even say any of this, because i just know there’s someone 300 plus going, “oh your life is so hard, being under 300 pounds. shut up you’re not even fat.”

i know because i throw that same fit when i read product reviews of ‘i was up to 150 pounds and i knew something had to change i couldn’t keep living like this.” 

i don’t...i don’t know what the solution to any of it is. i just...i don’t tell people they have to stay at their new weight. why must they tell me i have to change mine? i don’t have any health problems relating to being fat. and even if i did...so what? almost all of my uncles are either smokers or alcoholics that probably have health issues due to the smoking/drinking. but they’re still skinny so my cousins don’t care i guess? i mean, i don’t care. as long as they don’t smoke near me i’m not going to yell at them and in return they better not yell at me if i get seconds or thirds of grandma’s homemade ice cream, you know? 

i haven’t even touched on how men/boys treat you when you’re fat and i’m too tired to get into all of it. just...i understand that it fucking sucks that half the time men are only nice because they want sex. but i need skinny people to understand that it also sucks when half the time men ignore you or are straight up rude and insulting to you because they find you unfuckable and that is a sin apparently. or like, being cat-called. i understand it’s fucking terrible. its also terrible to hear shit like ‘oh a catcall is just saying you’re attractive’ or ‘every woman gets cat-called.’ great, i’m apparently fucking ugly and not even a girl. the f on my birth certificate actually stands for fat not female.

i don’t know how to change society. i don’t even know how to change my own internalized fatphobia. i just sometimes get the sense that there’s this divide. it’s like the femininity thing in feminism, i guess. you want to wear makeup? go for it. but it should NOT be necessary for me to be respected. you want to lose weight? go for it. but again it should NOT be necessary for me to be respected.

and i don’t know how to bridge that divide. oh it’s also like the marriage and motherhood thing. getting married and have kids if you want. but i don’t want to and i’m so sick of being fed this idea that i have to.

i don’t...i’m trying not to tell people they can’t do those things, but sometimes it feels like the second i say ‘you don’t have to wear makeup/lose weight/have children” i get yelled as if i’m saying they can’t have those things. you can have them!!!! i just, personally, need to hear that i don’t have to do those things more often!!! and no one ever says it to me!!!! “you’ll find someone eventually!” what if i don’t??? why can’t they ever say “you don’t need someone” i’d love to find someone but between the fatness and my general personality and lack of social skills and the fact that in nearly 25 years there’s really not been anyone interested yet i’m gonna bet on not happening!!!!!

tl;dr: yo can people respect each other a bit more maybe?