Everybody's Comin' to Get Me

Last night, paranoia hit me hard. It's been hitting me on and off for a long while, though it gets stronger and weaker at times. But it's only last night that I think I started seeing it for what it is. Half the time it manifests itself in the usual ways: thinking people are always watching me, talking about me behind my back, thinking mean thoughts about me, conspiring about me at work. Now I'm starting to think it manifests itself heavily in my relationships. I start thinking things about my significant other like, "Oh, he doesn't really love me. I just want him to admit what I already know: he doesn't actually love me." And there's paranoia about what they're doing, thinking, mostly in regards to me or how it affects me. Are they cheating? Would they ever? Do they want to? What are they hiding on their computers? What are they hiding in their lives? Why don't they ever want to spend time with me? The computer/tv/object must be more important than I am. Maybe I'm not capable of being loved. Etc., etc.

My thoughts were on the mental downward train last night because Jb was on the computer most of the night, watched a tiny bit of tv with me, then zonked out. I immediately started in with the whole, "He never wants to spend time with me anymore. He must not love me. The computer and tv are more important than me. This is just like my last relationship. I'm losing him. What if he cheats on me? He probably doesn't love me anymore. He probably hates me and thinks I'm crazy." Which he should when I think things like that. Because, you know, he couldn't possibly be tired because he's had a long week at work in 90 degree weather, which would be enough to sap anyone. So this becomes just another symptom to bring up to my psych doctor.

Also, I willfully didn't take my meds last night. I didn't want to. I didn't want to have to be taking meds, and certainly not so damn many. Most of the time, I'm extremely faithful to the idea of being med compliant. But last night, I was so down with the paranoid thinking that I didn't see how it mattered if I took meds or not. I didn't care. I didn't care about me.

On a better note, I did take my meds this morning. Lamictal and Wellbutrin down. As far as my sleep schedule, tried to go to bed around 10:30-ish. Not sure when I actually got to sleep. Slept until about 10:30-ish this morning. 12 hours. A little too long, maybe.

6:08 a.m. Paranoia Sets In

I wake early from a vivid dream in which I am furious with Jb. Furious. And betrayed. A girl named Kristen is visiting with us, and while I've been away, she and Jb have developed some sort of bond, and I know -- I know -- they've kissed, that Jb has done something to compromise our relationship. When I confront him, he plays arrogant, won't tell me anything, denies everything, and that's how I know it's true. And when his elbow jostles me in bed, waking me, I have an urge to slap him senseless across the face. How could he do that to me?

Vivid dreams like this, where I wake up as furious, or as upset, or as fearful as I would be in the waking world, bleed from my subconscious to my conscious mind. And it's difficult for me to sort through what's real and what's the overwhelming feeling I've woken up to. Jb would say I was paranoid. In fact, he's used that exact term twice in the last week. And I know I am. Except it's getting worse, and this, too, is a sign of bipolar. Hypomania/Mania, I believe.

The paranoia creeps in so that I hardly see it until someone points it out to me. I think the people on the bus are watching me. Marya Hornbacher calls them The Watchers in her book, Madness. And it's one of the sections I can relate too. Everyone is watching me. Everyone is critizing me. Everyone is talking about me. Jb's reading my blog and thinking he's ended up with a nutcase. I constantly question him if I think he's reading this. I'm even paranoid in my dreams. It's laughably egotistical, really. Solopsitic to the nth degree.

But there's some truth to the paranoia, especially about Jb. I constantly worry over the bickering. It's coming more and more. We're a couple less and less. There's constant outside strain on the relationship, and constant stress at home. Nothing is easy with me -- for a million reasons. And I can't fix that. I can only take my meds and ride my moods and hope to see them in some rational way that I can talk about them, get a handle on them. I worry about the day Jb can no longer handle them, or me. I've already lost a marriage. I don't want to lose him.