This is short. I promise.
Well, I’m not afraid. (At least, there are now long points where I’m not afraid.) The going and doing things despite horrible feelings and memories seems to help.
The only problem is that while it settles my mind, more or less, it doesn’t settle my body’s reaction. So basically I still have a constant fight-or-flight response. The Xanax tames the fear and dread, but it does not stop the response.
Which means I’m stressed as hell, because I want to either fight something or run away from something—literally, not metaphorically. It turns out that fight-or-flight means exactly that. I’m constantly vigilant—which is all PTSD—but there is nothing to be vigilant for. And I’m sure the bipolar’s quick-cycling mania or depression intensifies the stress as well, just with a different flavor depending on which is currently dominant or whateverthehellitis.
This means I’m biting heads off left and right if I don’t rein myself in, hard. I feel like I will shatter into a million pieces from being mentally pulled in multiple directions.
As another note, none of this is an excuse for anything I do to hurt people. It’s an explanation, and now that I know it, I better keep it in mind during all interactions I have with people, because I’m really not in a right frame of mind.
It’s really hard. Really, really hard.
… on the other hand, I’m way harsher to Twitter spammers than I usually would be, and possibly that’s a force for good.