Obsessiveness and language learning, etc.

I think the reason I stopped therapy was mostly that (1) I considered hypomania much better than the state I was in before a couple months ago, and (2) I am afraid that any treatment to “stabilize my moods” is going to put me closer to the aforementioned state, which is my worst fear at the moment. As for things like coping strategies or whatever, I feel like if any coping strategies were going to work with me, they would have worked at some time in the past 25 years. I’d been contemplating quitting therapy for at least 6 months before I actually did.

That being said, I’m still very far from stable and I just feel like I need to regain some self-discipline. I will, on occasion, get very, very fucking angry over some stupid shit. Today it was because someone claimed a translation project I wanted, and I screamed a long string of profanity (not even muttered under my breath, I mean I fucking screamed “fuck” about 20 times) and nearly put my hand through my wooden desk. Glad I work from home, haha. On a serious note, though, I need to not do anything that could potentially injure my hands, because they’re sort of important to me considering they’re what I use to work. But that’s where the desired self-control comes in, I suppose. It feels good to be angry though; it’s much nicer than the sort of void I was in before. People could have pissed me off in any conceivable way then, and I wouldn’t care, because I didn’t give a shit if I was alive or dead. Now I just sort of randomly rage about stupid shit. That’s one of the things that drove me to compulsive exercising when I was in college though, in addition to projects like a video game thing that I spend untold hours/months/years coding. It gave me something to do with the extra energy. Same with when I’d buy German grammar books 15 years ago when I didn’t know any German, never took any classes, and I was like goddamnit I am going to do every exercise in these books until I understand German. And so I did, 8 hours a day sometimes. That’s why I bought the piano. I’ve completely forgotten how to read bass clef, which is really weird because I can still read treble clef and the last time I actually had to read music when when I played trombone, which was bass clef. So my right hand knows what to do and my left hand just hovers stupidly in mid-air. I’m sure it’ll come back to me. I also cut up a bunch of pieces of watercolor paper (I have a gigantic roll of it) to do some paintings to try to sell. I had some bad BDD-related moments because if I was going to work a self-portrait in there, I had to take pictures of myself (the angles are too weird for a mirror), but it didn’t bother me that bad. I don’t even have a state ID, I haven’t since 2007, because I don’t want to have to have my photo taken. The Cushing’s syndrome is a big part of that, but it existed long before the Cushing’s. Will probably do a couple more serial killer paintings just because people buy them on there, but I’m bored to death of doing them.

On sex and body issues

Since I never address this, I will write a massive wall of text about body issues and sex and relationships problem:
[*]Currently have some physically-related self-esteem issues, and being naked around anyone for any reason is the most nightmarish thing I can imagine.

Even ~10 years ago, my eczema was so bad I covered up from head to toe so no one would see it and run away screaming or worry they were going to catch something. People who are very obviously having health problems (such as being covered in oozing sores) are not considered attractive, also. It took many years and many hospital stays to get the skin most under control, and now I have similar problems due to weight gain from the medications.

To give an idea, it’s not just sexual situations I avoid. I avoid mirrors and don’t even have a valid photo ID card right now because I hate the idea of having my picture taken. I don’t think I’ve posted a selfie online in the past 10 years.

This is a reaction to the current state of things and is not my permanent way of being. I used to take my clothes off all the time. A guy I knew in high school told me the other day he remembers the time I changed clothes right out in front of everybody while we were practicing for high school jazz band. I’ve let art students take nude photos of me. In my old apartment, I had topless photos of myself on the kitchen wall. So it’s reasonable to assume, I think, that this is a strong reaction to weight gain, Cushing’s syndrome, skin issues.

That’s not to say I had no self-esteem issues; I was made fun of a lot in school when I was very young, even my best friend would often get mad at me and decide to say things to try to hurt me, like saying I was too ugly to get a boyfriend. I probably believed it in middle school. I had a problem that if someone hit on me, I’d take it as making fun of me (that happened more than once, also) and react badly. By high school I considered myself average-looking and, as a result, had more or less normal relationships with people.

[*]Due to medications, I also had zero sex drive for about 8 years, and zero interest in relationships. I consider being single and celibate an ideal situation for this reason.

I think I also get a lot of my insecurity from my mom. When I was in high school, and I’ll tell you right now I had a fucking fantastic hourglass figure and great tits, but I’d put on a dress and get ready for school and she’d give me a disgusted look and tell me my legs were too fat to wear that and I should go change. And so on. Eventually I ended up having a very hard time taking compliments and would be very uncomfortable if complimented for anything physical. Eventually I tried to ugly myself up enough that no one would compliment me on my looks (not that I was a supermodel to begin with) and any compliments would have to be about things I could do, not how I looked.

What was it that RuPaul says on her show? “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell can you love anyone else?” I think that sums up my problem. I have gone from hating myself and wanting to die, to hating myself [physically!] and not wanting to die. I think it will take me some time to recover from all of this.

I realize that many/most people would recommend continuing to at least see the therapist, and maybe that sounds helpful in theory, but I tried and tried for years and I can’t discuss anything important to me with any therapists. I experience a sort of verbal block. It’s stupid, but I have not been able to overcome that, making therapy quite worthless for me. Toward the end I actually felt really bad about wasting my therapist’s time and/or boring him to death. I’m not anti-therapy, I am just unable to make any productive use of it.

“Have you lost weight?”

It also occurs to me that my energy levels have never been in any way related to the type/amount of food I eat, how much I sleep, etc. This week I went a couple days without eating at all (did drink some mango flavored kefir) and spent half the day on the exercise bike to try to get rid of the excess energy. I think I visited my cousin and his wife on Monday and decided I couldn’t sit quietly in the chair in the living room, I had to sit on the floor and visit with the dog so this would hide the fact that I was fidgeting constantly. (In the past I’d spend like 4 hours a day jogging, but I’m too fat and out of shape for that kind of shit right now.)

Anyway, again, I’m ok with losing some weight, which would have happened anyway just from stopping drinking soda, but I’m probably going to be irritated if anyone compliments me on it. Maybe that makes me sound like a dickhead, I don’t know or care. But it’s like 10 or so years ago, when I was pretty fucking thin to begin with, and lost 20 pounds because I had the flu for a week and was half-dead. And what did people say to me? “Oh you look great, did you lose weight?” And I accepted that and said thanks while thinking about punching them in the face, because I don’t think it’s appropriate to compliment someone on being sick,which is what it amounts to. It’s a fat person problem mainly though; no one makes a distinction between healthiness and weight loss.

Been reading up on things. Apparently there are some important distinctions between the symptoms of regular clinical depression and bipolar depression. I no longer doubt my bipolar diagnosis at all. Still coming to terms with the thought that what I have always considered my “personality” is really my manic episodes. But then, I suppose everyone is just a product of their neurochemistry. But many people’s neurochemicals are more stable than mine.