Today my mum came with me to the psychiatrist. I like Dr B. No bullshit, no faffing around issues. He is pretty straight talking and, while I can see why other people don’t like that, I appreciate it. My Care Co-ordinator, who called the Crisis Team when I was about to drown, was there as well. As a “team” they remind me of my first every psych/ social worker combo, who I quite liked, as people go (I was 13/14-18).

So… new anti-psychotics with a cute sort of name, to be taken in the morning. Chill-pills. Because, although I quite enjoy Quetiapine, it isn’t good to give such a sedative to someone with an alcohol abuse problem.

And here’s the thing.

The hallucinations I experienced last week are more likely to have been caused by alcohol withdrawal, than by my bipolar disorder. Dr.B asked me directly if I thought alcohol had anything to do with seeing things. I think I might have blushed, because somewhere in me I know that’s the case. Crawling/ creeping/ skin bug tactile sorts of hallucinations are, apparently, typical of alcohol related hallucinations.

And then I went for a drink. True story.

But… if I want to live any kind of reasonable life (and every now and then I do) I need to sort this out. I am not in an “episode” right now; I am not depressed, I am not high, I am not “mixed”- I may be mildly low but it’s nothing too serious. And it is probably caused by the amount of alcohol I am packing into a fairly small body. I am, quite seriously, drinking my mind away. Tomorrow, I’ve a seminar clashing with my alcohol appointment. I really, really cannot miss another seminar. But I will rearrange.



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