Today has been a bit of a mixed bag of lollies. I finally slept last night, but found that manic energy that I usually get at night was still with me when I woke up. I found myself cranking it up with lots of music. I found a kindred soul on Reddit, “mad-isobel”. I read one of her replies to a forum about mania being worse at night, which was the most interesting and insightful reply there:

I started reading her other posts. She often talks about missing the days when she was unmedicated. I found out she is also an INFP, which is no surprise. We like the same music (e.g. Lana del Rey) and poetry. I’m going to start watching the movies she’s mentioned as I will probably like them too. It’s strange developing this kind of connection with somebody who doesn’t even know you exist. It reminds me of celebrity crushes.

I have also been feeling very drained physically. I’ve had transient ringing and blockages in my ears, and am feeling a lot of pain in my body, particularly my fingernails, which is making it hard to type. I’m overwhelmed and frustrated easily and continue to have bouts of rage. I’m rarely able to sit outside in my own yard without being assaulted by machinery noise or dogs barking in the neighbourhood. I can never find anything, and everything is just so fucking hard. Weeks ago I just about ripped my nails off trying to open the tin lid to some supplements I ordered for my gut. I am still in pain, and tonight I did it again trying to open the seal of another bottle. I’m anemic, but often don’t even have it in me to take my iron supplements every day. Unfortunately I think the problem is more complex than just taking supplements or getting an iron infusion. My gut is fucked, probably from long term stress, and I don’t think it’s absorbing nutrients properly. I also have this bloody parasite which is stealing what little iron I have. I am treating it with herbs but I’m worried it’s not going to be enough. Every night I have to run an essential oil diffuser to drown out the sound of my stomach constantly making noises, which it has been doing for MONTHS now. I can STILL hear it even with the diffuser going. It feels like running a fucking marathon just to fill the diffuser up with water. I have to step over crap all over my floor- bags, boxes, bottles, mugs, toilet paper (cos I haven’t got any tissues), packets of pills- cos I have nothing in me to clean up, just to get to the diffuser. I then have to walk to the bathroom to fill it up, walk back again, try not to trip over shit and start the diffuser. This must sound like ultimate laziness to people who don’t know what depression is like. 

I went for an evening walk with Peter, my psychotherapist. He asked how I was in the car.

“I’m hormonal as fuck, and add kundalini into the mix, it’s like I’m on drugs,” I told him.

“I hope it’s a good drug drip?” Peter asked.

“It’s not bad,” I said, and Peter laughed.

He told me that his scar from his skin cancer surgery had become infected, though he’s a pretty positive person and wasn’t too worried. I like that he shares bits of his own life with me.

We got out of the car and he asked if I had a jumper in case I got cold. I was wearing a blue dress without sleeves.

“I’m boiling up, like a pot on the stove,” I told him.

I was still pretty high and it felt like I was almost in a different realm as we walked. It was the darkest we’ve ever walked as it’s right at the end of daylight savings. The walk was nice, though we passed an odd chap walking his dog which we both agreed had weird energy. His dog jumped up on me and he did nothing. On the way home Peter asked if I was scared when the dog jumped up on me.

“Yes, a bit,” I said.

Peter thought it strange that the guy didn’t respond at all.

“I’m glad I was there with you,” Peter said. He didn’t like the idea of me passing that chap alone at night, being a woman. In that moment I knew I really do have people who care about me in my life.

I finally got my period this evening. My PMS has been a bit different this month. This time I’ve been getting some massive highs instead of just negative emotions.

I sat in the bath for a while with magnesium salt, essential oil and a candle. I then went to bed. I do feel a bit calmer than I have been and the rain outside is soothing, but I still couldn’t sleep. All this emotion was coming up about my friend who went ballistic at me for not replying and then seeing another friend and not her. She told me it was “rude”, questioned what I said about being sick, and seems to have blocked me now. I have been pissed off for weeks, but tonight it morphed into sadness. I had a bit of a cry, tears like rain drops down my window. It was so good to finally be able to cry.

I considered this friend one of my closest friends. I always thought she knew me better than anyone. How could she be so wrong about me? Yes my communication is slow by most people’s standards but I actually spoke to her more than most of my other friends, even Okasha who has been my long term best friend. I go months without speaking with Okasha yet still consider her a best friend and she considers me a best friend. It is nothing personal; I just have very little social energy. I wish I had more to give but I don’t. I actually really liked my friend. In fact I would have dated her if she wasn’t straight and liked me too. I don’t care if she reads this; this is my blog for processing how I feel, and the friendship is collapsing anyway. But I was happy to be friends too. I put those feelings to one side and enjoyed a friendship with her.

I didn’t realise how intense my friend’s feelings were until she had this reaction to me. She’s acting like we’re in a relationship, which took me aback, though I don’t get the sense her feelings for me are romantic. It was just this intense friendship, and reminds me of what we call a “squish” in the asexual community, a desire for a close, non-romantic, platonic relationship with somebody. A “squish” is when we have a strong, positive feeling for someone that is not romantic or sexual in nature. She’d always read my blog and message me about things I wrote, she knew everything about me, and she would tell me she was glad we met and she needed to find another Zoe. And I’d joke and say “isn’t one enough?” I knew she cared.

I don’t know if my friend’s going to come back into my life or not, but I’ve reached a point of acceptance tonight. I just hope she finds peace and relief from her suffering with or without me. I’d like to still be friends, and I think my dad would be sad too if he heard we’re no longer friends. But maybe she is better off without me if I cannot be the friend she is looking for and only disappoint and hurt her. I don’t know. The ball’s in her court.