The day to end the week to end the life?

Happy Wold Bipolar Day! 

I had actually decided to kill myself today (or tomorrow depending on which continent you are on). Not because it was ‘world bipolar day’, (which it isn’t anymore here in Australia but is where most of my readers are reading this from thanks to weird internet induced time travel rules) no, that was simply an ironic coincidence that I didn’t even know about that until Tuesday evening. But because back in early December when my body was giving up on me again, I was starting to feel the icy whisper of Bel’s voice in my ear once more and the withering tentacles of depression clawing at my soul, so I made a deal with the devil. 

“Let me have my trip to Melbourne with my best friend, let me have Christmas with my family, let me ring in the new year, climb up Mt Kosciusko and wish my mother a happy 70^th birthday, let me be free of this metaphorical cage and then, then you can have me.”

I picked the date, the 31^st of March 2017 as the day I would take my life. Just long enough past Mum’s birthday and just long enough before my niece’s not to be forever associated with them.

Once the date was picked my mood 180’d and happiness verging on hypomania ensued. I had a ball crossing off bucket list items in Melbourne where for the first time in 15years I ate ‘real’ food and ‘real’ cakes like it was a normal thing for me, without fear or guilt even though I didn’t run for 5 days. I was not compelled to exercise incessantly or burn myself nor was I subjected to the expected constant verbal abuse by a now seemingly silenced Bel. 

It’s funny, I haven’t seen that friend and only spoken to her on the phone twice since we got back, whereas once upon a time we spoke on the phone daily for hours. But even though it would be nice to catch up with her, if the last memories we have together were of an amazing adventure, then somehow that just feels right. 

I returned from Melbourne about $1500 poorer and fairly hypomanic, as evidenced by a folder in my computer full of poetry, rap songs and well over 1000 photographs. I had a few ‘off weeks’ here or there with many hours through the middle of the night spent deep in reflection; December seems to do that to a lot of us.

Christmas time was spent with family, his and mine. My 32^nd birthday came and went, I’m not good at birthdays I still struggle with the various parts of my mind asking why I’m not dead yet and how can I possibly be 32 when I am still living in my high school mindset and don’t recall anything since my 16^th birthday. 

A burst of “New Year New Me” hypomania followed and the world was my oyster. I photographed, wrote, drove to the beach and climbed Mt Kosciusko, I was binge eating again but my exercise plan was equalling it out in my mind. Then I hurt my ankle and freaked out momentarily about not being able to run/ shed calories. The freak out was more about the fear of the dreaded and currently subdued Bel returning to eat my head because of her obsessions and fears, than the actual fears and obsessions themselves. Strangely the feeling of impending doom passed and I coped. True to her promise Bel remained in her box.  

The kids returned to school after the summer break and my boss at the pet shop announced to me that they would spend one last ditch effort trying to sell the shop and then they would be closing down at the end of March. The end of an era, I had spent the best part of 17years as their employee. It was sad but as I remembered my pact with the devil, the timing was rather convenient.

As the weeks went by I was still hypomanic, I drove too fast and blew hundreds of dollars on expensive headphones and assorted crap. Good things were followed by bad, then good again. My daughter turned 8, Dad got diagnosed with Dementia and I spent my mother’s 70^th birthday celebrating with her. The shop didn’t sell and the closing date was official, but I ran faster and further than I had ever run before; running from my shadow.

I had intermittently wondered about my decision to kill myself. It wasn’t really practical anymore – I had blown most of the money I was planning to use to fund my suicide on manic shopping sprees, Mum was going to need me to help with Dad now, besides I was having a lot of fun generally and I didn’t particularly want to die. I started to wonder if on the 31^st of March Bel would just suddenly possess me and drive us into a truck or if perhaps I would just die from something completely random like a falling tree. 

So here I am, sitting at home on my computer on ‘D’ day letting antipsychotics flow back into my blood stream, It’s been a crazy up/down week of life lessons for each part of me which I have explained in the previous posts that I have posted before this one, separating them because it was all far too long winded for one post, like over 4000 words kind of long winded. 

If you really have nothing better to do or you are killing A LOT of time, then by all means continue starting from Monday through to Thursday. I have posted kind of backwards so they appear "how you would normally read a book" for better context.

I guess right now I don’t know what the rest of this day will bring, I am currently a little bit of each part of me, mostly Suzi I think but Bel is still nowhere to be seen. I’m supposed to have my final Pet Shop shift ever tomorrow which couldn’t possibly be worse than Wednesday’s effort and as much as I hate goodbyes and dying today could get me out of one, it’s about time that I actually finished something that I started. 

Just as I ended that sentence, the phone rang. It was the best friend I went to Melbourne with. We spoke for an hour and a half about all the important things in life. I told her how much she meant to me and that I didn’t need to talk to her all the time to know how blessed I was to have her in my life. I also told her that I looked forward to seeing her again soon. 

So Bel, if you are out there, don’t make a liar out of me, I’m ready for a fight. Bring it on, Bitch.