Limbo

I am not unwell at the moment, or at least as well as I’m ever likely to get. I’m encountering triggers and dealing with them well, for the most part. I did get a few early warning symptoms earlier this week – strange smells, strange noises from outside my head, slight sleep disruption – but again, I’ve managed them well and I’m not slipping too deep into an episode. It’s really bizarre! It’s like I’m walking on a knife edge, waiting to fall into mania or depression. It’s like I’m walking on eggshells, trying not to crack myself up. There’s a real feeling of being in limbo. Waiting.

I’m also in limbo in life outside mental illness. Husband is (hopefully, essay results allowing) about to start is third and final year of his mental health nursing degree, and is going to want to move out of my parents’ house as soon as possible, which means I need a job.

Jobs are difficut things because I am having to be really constrained about what I’m actually able to do without losing my marbles. I need a low stress job, so the field I originally trained in and have experience in is now off the cards. This is really disappointing – I want to be abe to do what I enjoy, but that isn’t an option anymore.

I know I’m lucky to be in a position where I can even consider employment.

I need a purpose in life, and I’m losing that with every successive episode. I’m scared my whole life is going to be a constant fight against triggers – and that’s exactly what it is going to be. Maybe this is true for everyone, but I don’t half feel alone in it.

I want a job, a house, kids. It’s getting increasingly unlikely I will get these things.

What happens if I get a job and can’t handle it? Would I qualify for ESA, housing benefit and the like? Would that even be enough money to live on? How is it affected by Husband’s job? All my care is provided by my GP – I don’t have a psychiatrist or CPN, so coud I still even apply for ESA given I’m not seeing a specialist? I suppose the answer is to go and ask CAB, but I’ve not given up on the idea of working yet.

Maybe I’m less well than I think I am. Now that I’m thinking about it. I’m going to bed at 8pm because I run out of ideas of what to do, asleep by 9, waking up 10 or 11 if there’s nothing else for me to be getting on with. It’s so hard to wake up in the mornings. It’s a bit hard to take my meds at the moment – the internal voice (the one everyone has, not a psychotic voice) is saying I don’t need them, there’s nothing wrong with me, I’d be fine without them. I’ve been quite open with Husband about this, and he’s helping out by reminding me that I do need them as I go far off the rails without them.

It just feels like one big mess at the moment. I dare not move for fear of pulling the tangle of threads tighter, knotting myself. I’m “being kind” to myself. Even though I don’t feel I deserve it.

Trigger – early warning – relapse – remission, trigger – early warning – relapse – remission, trigger – early warning – relapse – remission.

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