Depression


“I need one of those long hugs where you kinda forget whatever else is happening around you for a minute”


~Marilyn Monroe

There was nothing but numbness.  No emotion, no tears, no anger or pain.  Just nothing. Like an empty hole in my chest.  A hole that nothing could fill. Depression.

The day started out like normal.  I woke up, got some things together, I dropped off a raffle item off for a fundraiser, then I spent some time with a friend. All good things. Then it hit me out of nowhere.  The numbness. It was 2:30pm.

I was dragging by the time I made the twenty five minute trip home.  I pulled myself up to my apartment, then went straight to bed. So many things to do, yet I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  Settled under my weighted blanket I did an anxiety meditation. I said to myself, “I don’t think my brain can handle more than fifteen minutes”.  So I did twenty. Small win for me.

I faded off to sleep quickly.  My alarm set for 5:30 pm so I could wake up and go to the Circle of Sound.  One on my most favorite rituals put on by the Temple of Witchcraft. I never miss a gathering.  When my alarm went off, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t get out of bed. I could barely lift my head to text my friend and let her know I wasn’t coming.  I cried. Just a little. I could have slept all night at that moment. I ended up getting out of bed at 7 pm.

I was numb for the rest of the night.  I didn’t write, I didn’t read, I didn’t even watch TV,  I just kind of sat there for a few hours then went back to bed.  The only reason I got up was to spend some time with the cats. The day needed to be over, and the only way to make that happen was to go to sleep.

I put the cats to bed, took my pills, and tucked myself in.  I needed a hug, I needed to be held, but there was no one there, just me, me and my Winnie the Pooh bear.

Just like that, a perfectly good Sunday down the drain because of a random bout of depression.  There was no trigger, there was no reason for it, it just came out of nowhere and knocked me on my ass.

Come the morning and the world was right again.  This is my life, living with depression.

Advertisements

Me and my mania.


Bipolar disorder means waking up not knowing whether Tigger or Eeyore will be making your decisions for you.


~Unknown

Mania.  It really is the best feeling ever, there is nothing like it. It can last for hours, days, weeks or even months.  I feel happy, genuinely happy, an emotion that I don’t feel often. I am full of energy, I am getting stuff done. I am focused, yet easily distracted (Squirrel!). Hence why I have been writing this post for three days.  I spend too much money (So much shopping!), and not enough sleep (Thank you 4:30 am!). I also often get tattoos or piercings. Sometimes these decisions are great, other times not so much. Luckily, this time, my promiscuity is in check… for now.  The three keys to my mania, sex, spending, and pain.

I talk to fast and often stumble over my words because my mouth cannot keep up with my brain and all its ideas.  These ideas, of course, are the best ideas ever. All of them, and they all need to be done right now. Without plan and without haste.  In reality though, they are usually not great and I have to deal with the fall out afterwards.

I can’t sit still.  I am constantly tapping my foot, clicking my pen, basically driving everyone around me crazy.  To me, it’s normal, and it feels good. Everything feels good, and if it doesn’t, I search harder for the things that do.  The choices I make, they are usually out of character. It is like I am two people at times. The fun one who does what she wants, and the depressed one that is drowning in emotions.  Luckily, manic episodes only come every so often, and I have not had a one this intense since July.

July was a mess, no good came from July.  I was completely manic through the entire death of my grandfather.  There were no tears, there was no feelings. I was bouncy, and helpfully, but with no emotion on the inside.  I am still trying to grieve and it is a difficult process. So many things happened over the summer that when the inevitable crash happened, I ended up in the hospital.  A first for me.

The worst part of a manic episode is knowing that it won’t last forever.  Knowing that the crash is coming, the great fall to depression. It hurts, sometimes for a very long time.  I find myself praying that my mania will last. Like now, I just want it to last through Christmas, I can’t crash for Christmas.  I have way too much to do, people are depending on me.

I have often said that the hardest part of having bipolar disorder is that I never know if I am really happy or not.  Am I having a good day, or or am I getting elevated. Once it starts, there is nothing I can do. I can try to be aware, I can try to make little changes to keep myself in check, but it is often useless.  When I am manic, I just don’t care. I do what I want, when I want to with no regrets. Ever.

Bipolar disorder is like living on a roller coaster.  Sometimes you are up, sometimes you are down, occasionally you are at baseline.  All I can do is use my CBT & DBT skills the best I can to limit the damage. However, if given the option, I don’t think I would change a thing.  Yea, it’s really hard, but it is apart of me. It makes me who I am. I am creative, spastic, and unique. I look at the world differently than most people.  I am badass because of everything I have been through. And with everything that I have been through, I am still standing. The best part? There is no one in the world like me, and that is a great feeling.

I have bipolar disorder, it does not have me.