Dear Friends,

I have been rather quiet lately. When I get quiet and withdrawn, I am in personal trouble. I’m either physically sick, my mental health issues have raised their ugly heads, or both.

In the last month and a half, I have had double pneumonia, torn the cartiledge plate of my sternum, had infection of the bone in my mouth and a tooth with resulting surgery, and last but not least of all, due to all the antibiotics I had to take, developed C Diff, a form of colitis that is like amoebic dysentery. That was on top of my regular colitis. I’m still not over it.

I live in a less than savory neighborhood. Over the Labor Day weekend a man bothered me on the parking lot of my apartment building. I have been mugged in that lot and have been bothered by other men at a different times. This last encounter was too much and something snapped. My PTSD has been out of control since then. It has taken me almost all this time to figure out what the horrible feeling is that has engulfed me. One night I figured it out. It’s that dread I had when I lived with my Dad. I knew another bad time would come. I didn’t know when it would be or what would cause it. I didn’t know if I’d just get hurt or would die. I knew it wouldn’t be my fault, but I knew it was coming. There was always, always another time. That feeling is back, and it won’t stop.

Old nightmares long hidden from memory have resurfaced. I don’t sleep until 5:00 or 6:00 a.m. and when I wake up, I’m exhausted. I’ve been binge eating, even though the colitis and C Diff make me very ill.

My pdoc did a blood level Monday and discovered I haven’t been taking enough medicine to control my bipolar disorder. In essence, I have been without bipolar meds since I developed an allergy to my lamictal months ago. Take the physical and other mental health issues and throw them together with the BP and it’s not been too fun being me lately.

I would have gone for extra help more quickly, but how could I tell my counselor and pdoc something for which I had no words?

To top it off, a financial situation not of my making has arisen that could possibly leave me homeless. It probably won’t happen, but it could, so it’s right in there with the anxiety.

So, I’ve been a mess. When I’m a mess, I withdraw. It has nothing to do with anyone else personally. I have managed to chat the last few days, so that’s good. I have been told that I am good at giving support but not very good at receiving it. Sharing all the details and asking for full scale support is very hard for me, especially because of things that used to happen to me when I showed emotion or any kind of weakness when I was young. I can sometimes manage it one on one or in small groups, but it's still hard. Even though I've been quiet or even absent, I have missed each of you and thought of you every day. Do not doubt that.

Jan