Tumultuous relationship

Been having a tumultuous relationship with life lately, which is why I haven't posted. Sometimes I feel as if though I should write to get all this out, but then other times I realize it's already been written multiple times in the past and still nothing has changed so why waste my time.

Last week, I had my pdoc take a look at the mood journal I've kept for the entire year and I think he has finally accepted, as I have, that Major Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder were both wrong diagnoses and that I actually do have Bipolar. The latest diagnosis he marked in my chart is 296.63 - Bipolar I, most recent episode mixed, severe without psychotic features. His main focus of concern right now is on the mixed part. Given my history of suicide attempts and the fact that I have been having suicidal thoughts lately, I'd say that's a realistic concern.

Most of last week was spent in bed and it appears as if that's where I'll be spending most of the coming week. The week after Thanksgiving I had gone out and done stuff pretty much every single day, even if it was only something small, and it all became too overwhelming, overstimulating. I don't think the med changes the pdoc made have helped improve my mood any either. In fact, I think it has made things worse. He took me off Geodon, since I wasn't tolerating it and was gaining weight quickly; and put me back on the one medication I hate most, Seroquel. I only agreed to take it because there really aren't any other options left and it doesn't make me gain weight, in fact I usually lose weight on it. He also took me off imipramine, which is an older antidepressant.

Not sure if it's the Seroquel, the lack of an antidepressant or both, but ever since the med change I have been extremely angry and very aggressive. The rage just keeps building inside, growing stronger and stronger each day. Twice in the last week I have self injured, once by drinking heavily and the other with cutting, and neither are things I have done in quite some time. But I needed to do it. I couldn't suppress the rage any longer and letting it out on someone else would have deadly consequences.

I've yet to get into the holiday spirit, despite having helped with a NAMI holiday party a couple days ago. I just want Christmas to be over. I have no interest in it or anything else right now. It also doesn't help that I'm broke and will be lucky if I can afford to get my daughter more than just one or two small things. Neither of us wants to be here on Christmas Eve, when the family usually comes over, especially since the relationship with half of them will never be mended, so we need to find something to do that will keep us out of the house until about midnight on Christmas Eve that doesn't require a lot of money.

As for my therapist and revealing too much, the rage makes me silent, so we haven't discussed much during our last couple of sessions. I spend most of the time wishing I wasn't there, waiting for time to pass as she tries to pry even the simplest information out of me, like how my week went. I wonder if she thinks this is all an act, a rebellion to the fact that she told me she thinks I'm doing better. I was doing better for a little while there, and by better, I mean hypomanic, but now I no longer feel that way. I can feel myself sliding back down the rope I'd been using to climb out of the black hole, and I'm using all my strength just to hold on, there's no hope I'm going to be able to start climbing back up again.