Focus

I wake up and throw myself into rants about how I am irritated with a multitude of issues in my life that are all intersecting to make my day frustrating and uncertain.

After ranting for two hours to various people, I start studying. I am fixated trying to complete problem after problem with undying devotion. When I get stuck I force myself to turn my attention to what is more important- the assignments due tomorrow.

What should have been a half hour at best of work, turns into what feels like over an hour. I write an abstract for my lab report and spend an immense amount of time editing it until it is “perfect.”

I don’t know what has overcome me. Why I have suddenly become the star student who is sick with the need to not just get the A, but to excel above and beyond that. I’m writing and editing with more care than I have put into anything I’ve written. All on a fairly insignificant part of an assignment.

I finish the lab report and turn to another assignment. And in the middle of it am interrupted by a text from my mom saying it is time to eat. This irritates me, I don’t want to stop working! I trudge downstairs and force every bite down. I am not hungry, I almost never am. When I am, I am ravenous, sick with the need to eat. And half the time I ignore it- it is not important. I almost fainted from low blood sugar. “Eat more,” everyone is telling me. I will myself to eat more, but find it impossible. I am simply not hungry.

I wonder why I haven’t gained back the weight I lost during my manic episode. My weight is directly correlated to my mental health- so why haven’t I gained it back?

I return from dinner and it feels like someone gave me a fresh dose of Ritalin (which I take every morning without fail for my low energy). My heart is fast, I feel like I’m going to explode from all the energy. Why? Why do I feel like this? I haven’t taken any Ritalin…

Perhaps, it occurs to me, perhaps I am a little hypomanic. One of my “mini-episodes” that doesn’t last very long.

And yet, I look at the past few days, I haven’t stopped studying or being active at all. I am constantly busy and even find myself impatient with the slowness of social media. It is a “distraction.” I even try to procrastinate but find it difficult unless I am ranting and writing. I am too bored by anything else.

But I rationalize, I am not a productive (hypo)manic. I am always self-destructive in these episodes, mini or not. And yet I feel… the racing thoughts, the way my heart wants to burst out of my chest, the way I am nauseous with the need to get this energy out…

I curl in on myself, hands pressed to heart, mentally begging it to slow down. It hurts, it really hurts. It makes me scared.

The nausea sweeps over me, sometimes I wish I’d just throw up and get it over with. It wouldn’t be the first time the illness in my mind has given itself physical proof.

I lost the focus. Dinner distracted me from it. Now I am overwhelmed with thoughts. Racing thoughts, speeding heart, revolting stomach, and shaky hands…

Focus… Focus… I have to get back to work. I am not done yet.

Plus, I want to start on that assignment that is due Wednesday. It’ll be a challenge but for some reason that excites me…

Quinn is a lazy girl, where did she go?

-Quinn

Edit: After writing this I took an Ativan because they help slow me down. I remembered a conversation with my psychiatrist where I came to the realization that a lot of what I experience isn’t actually bipolar symptoms, but anxiety. Anxiety runs very strongly in my family. It is possible that I am hypomanic, yes, but there is anxiety there too. I am hyper-focused which happens to me, but rarely with school work- especially hard science courses. I hope I calm down… I have spent almost my whole weekend studying for physics… I actually do like it, surprisingly, but this is still abnormal for me. I am sick. I haven’t taken many real breaks (only one I can think of). I am fixated… yet the meds are supposed to help me with that. I want to slow down… I am too fast to keep up with myself, too fast to do anything.

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I'm a 22 year old college student with aspirations too high for my own good. I've been diagnosed bipolar type 1 and have a small gathering of other problems like self-harm, anxiety, and ones I don't talk about (yet). I'm the proud owner of a big and rambunctious kitten. I love to write, I live with my parents, and I always seem to be having some sort of mental flare up.