The Lockdown Breakdown (Or How Realising I Was Bipolar Probably Saved My Life)

First and foremost. I have bipolar disorder. I was instantly discharged because of the handle I managed to get on it rather quickly. Discharged minutes after I was told I have this. Told other meds would be considered if another spell happened but they were fairly happy to discharge me. Fuck knows how a manic spell where I managed to ruin everything doesn’t quite count as one that means you need more meds but im so glad I didn’t get them. I’m off everything and haven’t had this clarity of thought in a few years. Everyone in the room kinda knew it had really been this all along. I basically gave my life story to a doctor and she recognised it as bipolar as fuck. Yet there I was. Calmly telling her how I was actually awrite despite the wreckage that was my life.

This isn’t a short story loosely based on the events of the past 4 weeks. It is the events of the past 4 weeks. Or at least as accurate a description I could possibly lend to the act of chucking a grenade into the middle of your life and watching it explode. Then laughing right in the face of the wreckage and vanishing.

It was me who done this you see. The reason I’m writing this in Kelvingrove Park before I go to my third different hotel in a week because I don’t feel safe in my homeless digs. I done it all. Being at least a few stages removed from being properly manic has made me see. It was all me. Any mistakes others made were directly related to me losing my fucking mind. I hold no grudges over anyone I just fucking. Miss my people.

I also managed to ruin a 5 and a half year happy relationship. Yes neither of us were happy when it ended. My fault again there (A pattern will begin to emerge here guys) but we were happy. I cherished her until I didn’t. For me trust has always been the biggest thing and we always had it, then I started lying and felt her trust for me go away. I done a plethora of idiotic, destructive things that have clearly left bruises. I accept that. I accept there’s a healing process there and it will be a while before she can have me around at all. Even if its not. What it was. I don’t spend 5 year with folk without loving them that’s for sure. I don’t think about people every day unless I love them. I’m sure the love is still reciprocated, but I was a cunt and I’m being treated as such. Fair.

Wanted to kinda get the personal shit out the way before I really go in to the bipolar stuff. I could spend all day rattling on about how much I miss my people, but I’m sure if anyone follows me on twitter you’ll be fucking sick hearing about it by now. If anyone hasn’t though, just know. I miss ma fuckin dug mate.

I’m going to try and explain the logic behind me really losing the plot. Bear in mind this 6-7 week spell of nonsense was my first proper manic spell in 6 years. I had some brief flirtations but she always brought me back. Kept me grounded.

Nothing could keep me grounded this time. Every single thing that could go wrong did. Thats how it felt anyway. For context, I decided to isolate due to asthma when Corona really kicked in. I got really weird about anyone being anywhere and was adamant rules were to be followed to the letter. Not a bad thing, but when you then turn around, lost the plot, and never stay in one place for longer than 3 days, ye could imagine how that might negatively impact the people who were affected by my militant attitude towards it when it started eh? I lost my job due to isolating as well and that when it really became time to just. I dunno. Walk about all the fuckin time and buy cakes outta shops.

I’m also 31 and never smoked fags regularly till 2 months ago. Of course I was losing my mind. Who starts smoking in their 30s unless they are firmly in the grips of a breakdown?

I’m a liar when im proper manic. Its hard to admit because in general that is not me. Lies give me fuckin knots in my belly. I don’t identify with being a liar but when I’m manic and on certain meds? Second nature. Well second nature would imply I ever had any talent for it. I don’t

I lie terribly because I have a horrible all consuming conscience that really, deep deep down, always kinda wants caught. I was stealing painkillers from both my partner and father and firing that on top of a cocktail of drugs to try and sort my brain out I was a fuckin chattering looney. Would not shut the fuck up.

As much as I got some control over the proper wanting to die self loathing side very fuckin quickly when I left my house, that’s just because I had fuck all mate. The thought of dying barely matters when you look at your life and realise…shit….here it is big man. This is what ye wanted eh? Truly on your own. No even the wee dug fs. She probably still likes me but. There’s always a positive in any dire situation

My positive? I can do this. I didn’t even think me plus a partner could contirbute to me getting a place. That’s how much I’ve always looked down on myself and my propsects in life. I don’t see the next step. Only the really sticky step I’ve been on for what feels like forever. Convinced someone somewhere is gonnae see the talent and publish something I write one day. I’ve written on a semi professional basis since I was 24 now. Maybe 23. Its earned me the grand total of about a quarter of what I’d make a year working in a corner shop. Yet something in me still believes. This will take me somewhere.

Its took me here. I’m still sitting on the same bench in Kelvingrove Park I was when I started tapping away. To tell the gods honest truth I’ve never felt more tired which is how I know beyond dispute that it really is finally over. A couple of days back all of this plus abother 10,000 words would have come out and none of it would have rang true. Know what really fuckin bugged me though? She’s no heard my voice in 4 weeks right. YET wis able to tell me I wasn’t stable yet via email. Like.

How dare she be so right?

I’m finishing this outside The Kelvingrove Art Gallery which is currently shut. She always wanted to bring me here and it was always one of they things we could have done one day. We had nothing but time.

If there’s a lesson I’m going to take from all this is why put off something you could be doing right now? if it helps you forward. Do it. Big Andy taught me that amongst othert things and Big Andy is truly the only reason I’m able to write this at all. If it wasn’t for him, I’d have sunk at some point in all this. If it wasn’t for Con Daverad anaw. My very sick best pal who never stopped believing in me. Even when I stopped deserving her belief.

I’m getting there. I might have a house next week and it’ll mean no more impromptu hostels to get away from the wee prick across from me in the digs. Once that situation is settled I imagine a lot more things currently bothering me will fall into place. Right now its fuckin hard but. I literally walk by places I spent some of my happiest times in ALL the fuckin time. All they are is memories now. There’s a strong possibility that’s all they’ll ever be.

But I made my shitty wee bed and now here I lie. Hoping for the next 31 year to be a lot less stressful than these ones have been.

I’m pure sorry if you’ve bore the brunt of this shit in any way. There’s big gaps where my memory is at best very hazey. I mind all the shit that ruined my relationships with partner, mum and dad though so that was good of my brain eh? Keep aw the real dagger in the heart stuff, but forget the 40 times you went to Scotmid for the same cake.

If lockdown has led to a worsening in your mental health issues or even the appaearence of a mental health issue has happened for the first time you MUST speak out. This nearly killed me. The only reason I feel good day to day (most days) is because I feel like I’ve been handed a second chance at life. I was ready to go. That’s the truth of it. I was trying to leaving a shitey legacy behind so no one would really care if I died or not.

But yer boy lived

Miss you Da x

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