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I just posted a tweet and then tried to retract it which shows just what a contradictory person I am. I’ve been thinking today about all the things I do and I have come to the conclusion that actually I do them quite well. I feel quite good about it. My response in my head was “OMG, I’m awesome”. Then I tweeted it. Then I thought “OMG, I’m an arrogant cow”.

I decided yesterday that I need to look after myself better and to do that I need to be a bit more assertive with my boss, rather than trundling along telling everyone I’m fine and not giving myself a break at all. I spoke to our disability/diversity person at work, who we shall call Ms. Win, for she is made of it. She suggested I write a tactful but assertive email to my boss saying what I need, reminding her that my condition is long term and sometimes it takes a bit more effort to manage it, like when I’m bloody knackered. Tiredness manifests itself as depression. That does not make me weak.

Today… Well, today I think maybe I won’t write that email after all, because really everything is fine. I’ll have a nap or two this weekend and I’ll be zooming along at warp speed again by Monday. Condition, what condition? Heh, that slipped out to Ms. Win yesterday. I was rewarded with a raised eyebrow.

For you see, I have been considering coming off the Lamotrigine when I’ve finished this MA. Not sure about this whole Bipolar thingy. I think I’ll be fine without meds, it could actually be meds that caused the problems in the first place. Again with the raised eyebrow. Followed by a DO NOT COME OFF YOUR MEDS.

It’s easy to forget. I forget what it felt like. I forget what I thought. Reading back on my blog (most of which is private now) freaked me out a bit this week. I know I was anxious this time last year, I know I crashed a bit and ended up hiding under the duvet for a couple of weeks. But the posts indicate I was pretty depressed actually and I don’t remember that. It was like I was reading someone else’s blog.

I’m not feeling well. I feel fine. I used to be quite ill really. I was never ill, it was a figment of my imagination or something. Or I overreacted. I need to stay on medication, for it helps me. I should come off medication because it’s completely unnecessary.

Underneath this, of course, is the ever-present longing to lose weight. This damn drug has whacked on the weight. Or is that because I’m a lazy cow? I just need to exercise more. But it’ll have to wait until after I finish studying because I only have so much will power to go around. Fat fat fat. Ditch the drug.

And an even unhealthier desire. Apparently. I want my highs back. You know that Queen song, Don’t Stop Me Now? I used to feel like that, and whenever I hear that song now I feel sad. It was my song. I do know that every high was followed by a crash and the higher the high, the worse the crash. But it wasn’t that bad. I mean, maybe sometimes it was a bit crap. But when those people sternly order me to stay on medication, they are overreacting a bit.

This post isn’t actually about coming off meds, so let’s not get into that too much. If it happens it won’t be for a while anyway. I’m just writing today about my own contradictory opinions and memories. Flashes here, gaps there. About ten years ago I had an interview at a university. The man interviewing me said after about 20 minutes that I was one of the most complicated people he’d ever met. In that 20 minutes I had shown him that I am absolutely full of opposites and he had no idea how they all fit together to make one person. He said I was fascinating. My old therapist said exactly the same thing. He had to work hard to know how to relate to me. I think he did a good job, but when we said goodbye I apologised for being a pain in the arse. He beamed at me and said it had been a pleasure. I guess contradictory/contrary/difficult cow isn’t all bad then.

Contradictory. I’m awesome. I’m an arrogant cow. I’m super confident. I’m incredibly insecure. I’m the biggest extrovert on the planet. I’m an introvert who loves nothing better than being left alone with a book and some loud music. I doubt every element of my belief in God constantly, question his very existence. But God sings to me and smiles at me every day and I’m convinced of it. I feel down a lot. I feel excited a lot. How do these opposites fit into one person? I have absolutely no idea. It causes me a fair amount of distress at times, like now, but I’m a lot more content with it than I used to be.