Day 61

Would you look at that. We're up to day 61 of me being actually, legitimately stable. It's pretty amazing, really, when you consider I've spent the last 5 years either depressed or manic and not really anywhere in between. (It's been mostly depressed, by the way)

So anyway, I wasn't really sure how I wanted to start this, or if I even wanted to write it. I decided though that it's a part of me and writing it may help me along my journey of wellness. So yeah. Here goes.

Have you ever been on the website Tumblr? It's kind of a combination between a blog and twitter. Think of it as short, fast moving blogs that you scroll through. It can be a fun site. One thing that I didn't like was that there were people - quite a few of them - who were romanticizing mental illness. Not just mental illness, but every aspect of it - especially self harm and suicide. It was all made out to be beautiful, romantic, and tragic. Not informing the reader to seek help, but instead to shun those who don't see the beauty in your scars (what kind of bull crap is that??). I hated it.

Until I realized I'm kind of doing that myself.

Not shunning people, I'm not doing that. But maybe romanticizing my illness just a little. Maybe romanticizing suicide a little. See, normal is boring. It's meh. And I'm still learning how to navigate through being normal (I'm so used to depression). I've written before about feeling as though I'm missing something . . . I think what I'm missing is my extremes of moods. When I'm in an extreme mood, people pay attention to me. Definitely not everyone, and maybe not that many, but people do. It makes one feel important. So that even though you may be dead inside, you matter.

I don't know if that makes any sense. My therapist has asked me on at least two occasions if I was grieving the loss of my instability. Grieving the loss of my mood episode, essentially. I told him I don't know. I think part of me is. Not because I want to feel like shit. Fuck no, people! My depressions are horrible and life draining and I thank God daily that I don't feel like that anymore. But because I'm no longer receiving that attention. I'm no longer "special". I'm just another ordinary person. My bipolar makes me unique.

Does this make any sense? I don't want to be depressed, I don't want to feel like shit or get in trouble for my moods, but I want to be special. I want to be unique.

But the scary bit revolves around suicide. See, as of right now I see suicide as a viable way out. Not now, not right now, but later. I keep thinking, well, if I get depressed again in 5 or 10 or whatever years, I can just kill myself. I've had a couple of depression relapse scares during this current recovery and my mind immediately turned to suicide and I was worried that if I got worse I would actually attempt. I can't. One: I don't want to die, two: I have my husband and son to think about. Mainly #2 is what worries me and pains me the most. But I can't seem to stop these thoughts, no matter what I do.

I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts about all of this. And my brain won't shut up either. Fuck.

Day 52

I'm so lost today. Just so. Utterly. Lost. Today I am empty inside. Today I feel like things don't matter. Life doesn't matter. Everything is pointless and stupid and why should I bother trying? I want to not exist. I want to go to sleep and not wake up.

Now, imagine how bad off I would be if I was actually depressed right now. I'd be suicidal. But thankfully I'm not. Not really at least. The thoughts are there, but they carry no weight.

I woke up this morning feeling as though something was off. Something wasn't right. I had breakfast, went to the gym, and came home to enjoy a cup a coffee. As I sipped my coffee I stared off into space, negative feelings and melancholy swirly around me, taking over. I wrote in my mood journal, showered, and tried to shrug off the feelings, chalking them up to being overly tired the past few days.

But they continued. They grew. And no amount of positive thinking or mindfulness or ignoring made a difference. As per usual, I tried to figure out why I was feeling this way. What could have triggered it? I'll be honest - I don't know. Hubby and I did a lot over the weekend and I was around a lot of people. Could it be stress and tiredness from that? I was supposed to have ECT yesterday but didn't (it was postponed until next Monday). Is it that? Am I subconsciously worried about not having ECT when I was supposed to? Could it be that? All of the above? Something else entirely? I have no idea. All I know is that I don't want to feel like this. At all. Ever. No. It's horrible and I hate it and I want it to go away.

Please . . . just go away. I can't do this again.



And I find it kinda funny,
I find it kinda sad,
The dreams in which I'm dying,
Are the best I've ever had . . .