I've recently been diagnosed as bipolar type II. I knew I was different as a kid, I knew I had "something wrong with me".
I've had it for most of my life and I've really struggled through some tough times. I didn't understand what was happening.. it was subtle enough that it did not disable me, and did not drive me to take any action until recently. I did some math and it looks like I've ingested about 2kg of cannabis in about 18 months. That's a lot of self-medication going on there! In any case, marijuana is certainly not a cure, especially when you do not know what you are treating.
I knew a girl named D for a year. It was a breath of fresh air to talk to someone that was so understanding, that I could relate so well to. I knew she was in a relationship and at that point I was 100% accepting of the facts and staying within the normal boundaries. She started to become depressed and was looking to me for support. I helped her through it in hopes of making her relationship better and making her happier in the process. Alas, what will happen will happen.. and she told me he was not improving.
Months go by, the boyfriend has become even more of a jealous overreacting asshole and she is saying she wants to leave him and move out of his parents' basement. By this point, we had been chatting a lot without his knowledge and I believed she had lost faith in her relationship and was looking for a way out. I was actually planning on moving to NYC and having her live with me -- I brought it up, and she said that if I moved there and wanted her to be my roommate, that she would. I should mention how my life felt; I was constantly alternating between euphoric mania and awful depression. All of my drug use caused my cycles to alternate quicker than usual. Some days I did not want to get out of bed or do anything at all. Others, I was energetic, did not miss sleeping one bit, talked way too much, and became highly irritated at my roommates, people, social situations, very easily. I did not think it was anything out of the normal.. I mean, I'd just hit another bowl and calm down for fifteen minutes. I thought everyone had fifteen million thoughts and feelings hit their mind at once.. Weed slows it down, probably too much. It also introduces quicker cycling to the equation, a vicious circle.
In the last week of my craziness I was using psychedelics in combination with the nootropic piracetam nearly every day. I've never built up tolerance to psychedelics; instead, I find that the more I trip, the less I need. Perhaps this is because of my condition, I'll never know.. but the piracetam intensified it a lot. I loved that life was more malleable that way, no aspect of reality sat still for too long. I ended up chatting with one of D's friends (M) and was sharing.. probably too much. I wanted to talk to someone and work things out, but she did not understand or agree with my version of reality -- M's boyfriend told me I was the scum of the earth, the reason things go bad for good people. I knew he has problems dealing with some social situations and tried to not let his words affect me, but it still started to eat away.. Had I misunderstood everything she said? I read over some of our old messages and knew I had fucked up. Not only had D told me not to share any of the things we talked about with her friends, but I had twisted things and exaggerated them to a degree that I'm still not even sure what was real and what was made up by myself. While I realized and understood this and knew it to be 100% true, I told D that it was best we not communicate for a while until things change, and she seemed sad. I still questioned her feelings for days, in a deeper depression than anyone should ever experience.. I eventually decided to move back in with family (who I had been avoiding like the plague for two years) and see a doctor about all of this moodiness.
I've had it for most of my life and I've really struggled through some tough times. I didn't understand what was happening.. it was subtle enough that it did not disable me, and did not drive me to take any action until recently. I did some math and it looks like I've ingested about 2kg of cannabis in about 18 months. That's a lot of self-medication going on there! In any case, marijuana is certainly not a cure, especially when you do not know what you are treating.
I knew a girl named D for a year. It was a breath of fresh air to talk to someone that was so understanding, that I could relate so well to. I knew she was in a relationship and at that point I was 100% accepting of the facts and staying within the normal boundaries. She started to become depressed and was looking to me for support. I helped her through it in hopes of making her relationship better and making her happier in the process. Alas, what will happen will happen.. and she told me he was not improving.
Months go by, the boyfriend has become even more of a jealous overreacting asshole and she is saying she wants to leave him and move out of his parents' basement. By this point, we had been chatting a lot without his knowledge and I believed she had lost faith in her relationship and was looking for a way out. I was actually planning on moving to NYC and having her live with me -- I brought it up, and she said that if I moved there and wanted her to be my roommate, that she would. I should mention how my life felt; I was constantly alternating between euphoric mania and awful depression. All of my drug use caused my cycles to alternate quicker than usual. Some days I did not want to get out of bed or do anything at all. Others, I was energetic, did not miss sleeping one bit, talked way too much, and became highly irritated at my roommates, people, social situations, very easily. I did not think it was anything out of the normal.. I mean, I'd just hit another bowl and calm down for fifteen minutes. I thought everyone had fifteen million thoughts and feelings hit their mind at once.. Weed slows it down, probably too much. It also introduces quicker cycling to the equation, a vicious circle.
In the last week of my craziness I was using psychedelics in combination with the nootropic piracetam nearly every day. I've never built up tolerance to psychedelics; instead, I find that the more I trip, the less I need. Perhaps this is because of my condition, I'll never know.. but the piracetam intensified it a lot. I loved that life was more malleable that way, no aspect of reality sat still for too long. I ended up chatting with one of D's friends (M) and was sharing.. probably too much. I wanted to talk to someone and work things out, but she did not understand or agree with my version of reality -- M's boyfriend told me I was the scum of the earth, the reason things go bad for good people. I knew he has problems dealing with some social situations and tried to not let his words affect me, but it still started to eat away.. Had I misunderstood everything she said? I read over some of our old messages and knew I had fucked up. Not only had D told me not to share any of the things we talked about with her friends, but I had twisted things and exaggerated them to a degree that I'm still not even sure what was real and what was made up by myself. While I realized and understood this and knew it to be 100% true, I told D that it was best we not communicate for a while until things change, and she seemed sad. I still questioned her feelings for days, in a deeper depression than anyone should ever experience.. I eventually decided to move back in with family (who I had been avoiding like the plague for two years) and see a doctor about all of this moodiness.
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