I don’t know why I keep talking. I’m getting better at controlling it, but I still seem to annoy others when I talk. I even annoy myself when I talk sometimes. I tend to repeat myself over and over. I ask a lot of questions, too many questions. I wish I could blame it all on my memory loss, but I would talk too much even before I started having memory problems. Every time I try to talk less, I end up not talking at all instead. I suppose I’m an all or nothing kind of person; I’ve never really been able to find any middle ground.
I have noticed that I tend to talk when there is silence. I get uncomfortable and for some reason, I decide that talking will make the situation more comfortable. It never works out that way. I usually end up saying the wrong thing. I think it would be okay if I decided to be a little more quite, if it is my decision and not because of someone else. Life would be easier if I started making decisions for myself instead of for everyone else. I don’t know if I can do that, but I can start trying.
I have therapy today, in a couple of hours. I like my therapist; he’s wonderful and I feel comfortable with him, which is not normal for me. However, sometimes I go in and I have nothing to say. That’s unheard of, I always have something to say. I have no clue what is going on with me. I used to go to therapy and just talk on and on. The past couple times, he had to ask me questions to get me to start talking. That never used to happen. One of the things about me that anyone who knows me knows that I almost never stop talking.
Lately, I’ve been trying to talk less at home. Sometimes I feel like I’m annoying people, like my husband, so I’m trying not to talk unless it’s important. I tend to talk about obvious things, things that aren’t necessary, and I also repeat myself. Some of this is due to my memory loss, but the rest of it is just who I am.
I have been going to therapy continuously since I was 14 years old. That’s a lot of talking; maybe I’m running out of things to talk about. I have a few ideas in my head that I want to talk to my therapist about today. Hopefully, when I get there, I will remember the topics. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I still find it pretty funny that I would be short of words.
You know the moment when your bipolar episode takes over, but you don’t exactly notice it until a few seconds after it happened? Well, that happened to me yet again. I’m pretty sure I’m overthinking it, but simply put, I just say things I shouldn’t say. My mouth keeps going because my head won’t stop. I have dozens of thoughts all at once, and for me, I can see the connections. However, I know that what I’m saying doesn’t exactly make sense to others. This may be becoming one of those times, and if so, I apologize.
I openly discuss my bipolar disorder here, and with some of my family, generally with those that I feel or have shown to be understanding. Mental health is not an easy thing to understand, and I don’t want to put too much stress on anyone by telling them what’s happening, but I may have just done that. It will probably all be okay, but my mind has played out at least 30 different scenarios where I get in trouble. I wish I could stop this senseless thought wondering, but it’s part of who I am, and I just need to learn to deal with it a little better.
This is another reason why I find support groups so helpful. The friends that I’ve made at the support groups I’ve previously joined are there to help me through all sorts of events, even the ones that are only in my mind. I have become close with these individuals and I’m so grateful for that, especially with one individual. It’s a give and take relationship, but we empathize with and encourage each other. In my opinion, having someone who can empathize with me can make all the difference. Empathy is about being able to understand what someone is feeling because you have experienced it on your own, while sympathy is simply recognizing someone’s emotions and providing support. It makes me feel so much more comfortable knowing that I am not alone. That every thought and action, no matter how extreme, is also felt by others who love me.
This is not to negate the love and support from my family. Honestly, I prefer that they don’t completely understand my emotional state, I don’t wish that upon them at all. I’m grateful for the individuals that do not struggle with mental health issues. But for the individuals that can relate, it’s important to stick together. My husband keeps trying to get me to go to a new support group, and I put it off because I’m afraid. Yet now that I think about it, only good things can come from it as it has before.
Everything I do is wrong, at least that’s how I feel. I just can’t make the people I want happy. I’ve felt like this for a long time now, so why do I keep trying? I’m sure it’s all in my head, but feeling like this on a regular basis is depleting. At least I’m aware of my irrational bipolar symptoms such as this one. I know deep down that I’m not doing everything wrong and making everyone unhappy; awareness is helpful to me.
It’s hard enough to do that when I’m not in a bipolar episode, how can I expect myself to do everything ‘right’ in the mixed episode I’m currently experiencing. One of the symptoms I’ve been dealing with is excessive talking, even to people I normally wouldn’t talk to. I’m constantly afraid I’m going to say the wrong thing or something inappropriate. I’ve done it before, so I’m sure I will do it again. The problem is that I can’t always control what comes out of my mouth. I try to stop myself from talking as much, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect.
It would be one thing if what I was saying made any sense, but it doesn’t. I struggle to stay on one topic. There are so many thoughts running through my head at one time, I seem to bounce from subject to subject. I also tend to forget what I’m saying altogether. All of these things make normal conversations very difficult and generally unpleasant for the other person involved.
I think this blog is helping me get out some of my thoughts. I’m hoping it helps me reduce the amount of crap I convey to others. Writing can be a theraputic tool. I’ve never liked it, but at this point, I’ll try anything.