Mental Health and Uncertainty

Today is the Pride Parade in the city I’m moving to (the city I work in, across the bridge from the city I live in) and I’ve been all kinds of excited to go with my friends this year. 

I was supposed to close on a house I’m buying this upcoming Tuesday but for whatever reason the seller didn’t get a structural engineer out soon enough and now I’ve got to wait another month before the repairs can be done. Originally I was supposed to be closing on March 14th but that came and went because supposedly the first engineer he hired never gave him his report. 

Buying a house is stressful. Buying a house solo is even more stressful. Buying a house and relying on a bond program from the state when your current president is cutting assistance programs left and right and your seller is delaying the purchase is 10 times more stressful. Adding bipolar disorder to this mix is making it a fucking obstacle course like American Ninja Warrior or whatever that show is. My tiny apartment is full of half-packed boxes because I don’t even have a signed addendum from the seller saying he’s going to pay for the repairs yet (they’re up to 7K now just for the structural and we originally agreed to 5K total, he’s already spent about 3K) so why finish packing?

I’m in a weird state with my mental health. I’ve gone into protection mode, like a turtle withdrawing into my shell.  The uncertainty is not easy to handle. The thing with buying a house is that even if you get to the closing something can go wrong with your finances and as someone who has lived paycheck to paycheck up to this most recent job promotion 2 years ago that terrifies me. I’ve done the math and budget 20 times over and know the mortgage is manageable but all of this uncertainty in the closing has me questioning everything. 

I backed out of going to the Pride Parade today because I don’t think I can handle the crowd or put up a front that everything’s ok for an entire day. I’ve become a blob of negativity and I hate that. 

I just want to move into MY house and pay MY mortgage and have friends over to a place that I’ve made my own. 

I’m hopeful I’ll get a new contract on Monday so I can let my mortgage company know. 

I’m so incredibly grateful for a good therapist, psychiatrist, and my own commitment to my mental health because without those things I’d be more lost than just a mess. 

Until I’m in that house though, my social life may just have to suffer. 

My #SecretAnxiety – the Unmastered Frontier

I’m fairly open about my bipolar – the depression and hypo-mania, and I’m beginning to theorize that this level of comfort correlates to a level of mastery I believe I’ve gained over it in the past few years. I’m theorizing this because I’m experiencing something new and I find it embarrassing when I know I absolutely should not. 

I’ve recently been introduced to a whole new mental health issue that I have not yet experienced. I’m currently battling anxiety. Anxiety is a beast. It has been endlessly lashing out at me for the past few months, chasing me into corner after corner until I break. I meditate, I bike, I see my friends and have quality conversations with them, I try to think positively, I understand this is a physiological response and yet I can’t control it. And I know I shouldn’t expect myself to – but somehow I do. I manage my bipolar, why can’t I manage this anxiety? 

I feel ashamed. 

My anxiety comes out by way of compulsively and uncontrollably itchy skin on the upper outer part of my arms and the upper part of my legs. It’s usually triggered while getting ready for work and it’s gotten to the point that I’ve made myself bleed if I leave my legs uncovered, or give myself tiny bruises if I put on tights. I can’t not scratch. It’s the most driving itch I’ve ever felt in my life.

I sought the help of my psychiatrist because getting in as a new patient at a therapist is months out. I got anti-anxiety medication. I’m trying to control my thoughts better but it’s not easy. 

I feel embarrassed. 

I don’t want others to feel this way though. I know I’m not alone but it truly can feel so incredibly lonely when you go through things like this on your own. 

I suppose I’m writing to remind myself and others that it’s human to experience these trials. We’re not alone. We don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be perfect. I am not perfect. And it’s ok. 

It’s easier to pretend it’s ok sometimes.