Day 89

Here it is, day 89 of "normal", and I'm feeling pretty stuck. Why, you ask? Motivation. Or, more accurately, my lack of motivation. That's right. I'm lacking motivation for nearly everything. No, that isn't an exaggeration.

I'll be honest - I don't really have the motivation to write this post. Seriously. I feel I need to though. I feel I need to write more frequently, even if it's just mundane shit. And so here I am, sitting on the couch with the laptop in my lap, one big sigh after the other.

See it's just that I'm lacking motivation for so many things. Exercise, eating healthy, reading, drawing, painting, cleaning, getting up in the morning. It's very frustrating because I want to be able to do things, I just don't seem to care if I don't. Wasn't on the spin bike for a full 20 minutes? Oh well. Doesn't matter. Didn't vacuum the downstairs? Whatever. We're not downstairs all that much anyway.

The lack of motivation and not really caring (in addition to some other symptoms) are all symptoms of depression. I had a little over a week where I was having some strong depressive symptoms again and I keep thinking that maybe this is just carry-over from that. Except that the lack of motivation started before my depressive dip.

I'm not really sure what to do. I don't know how to increase my motivation (motivational speeches, etc don't work).

It sucks though, and is damn annoying.

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 . . .

Day 40

Wow. It's been a while since I last wrote. I'll be honest though, there isn't really anything exciting going on. Not really.

I've been trying to figure out how I feel, and this really is not an easy fucking task. Seriously. Because here's the thing - I'm not depressed. I'm not depressed. I'm just, normal, I guess.

But there's a problem with normal, and this is what I've been trying to figure out. See, I feel like something is missing. From my life. Like, something major, but I don't know what it is, only that it's gone.

And I still feel like I'm on the sidelines of my life. I'm just observing. Everything is passing me by, I feel left out out. And I'm pretty sure this shows at times. Like when I'm at work trying to take part in a conversation but I'm really just staring creepily at everyone while they're talking and I'm trying to nod and chuckle and look interested but I just look weird.

I go around at work and in life feeling withdrawn and reserved and quiet and not at all like myself. I have moments - don't get me wrong - where I'm more like myself. Where I come out of my shell and make jokes or act silly or, well, inappropriately because that's what I do . . . But those instances are few and far between. And I miss it.

I've been trying to get this all back. I've been trying like crazy to get it back. I go out of my way to make conversations at work. I'm making conversations with people I ordinarily wouldn't talk to (which makes me uncomfortable, honestly). I try making jokes, I try acting silly, but everything just falls flat (except for the towel penis incident).

People comment on how I seem so much more happy, more calm, more talkative, and like I'm doing so much better. And I guess yeah, I am. I mean, I'm not depressed, I'm purposefully trying to engage everyone in conversation, and I am doing so much better. I should just be fucking happy with this, right??

And yet I still feel empty. Hollow. I don't know what to do with myself. Literally and figuratively. I already spend one day a week volunteering with horses and disabled kids. I spend two days a week delivering babies. I paint . . . and then do fun stuff like clean the house. What the fuck more should I do . . .

Oh, and I also seem to have this whole anger thing. I'm very quick to anger and it's pretty volatile. Great fun.

So I don't know. Figuring this shit out is my ongoing project for now. In the background. I'm not letting it take center stage. My bipolar has been center stage for far too long so now it gets the back burner.

So yeah. There ya go.

Day 17

I'm trying to figure out this stability stuff and I'm kind of struggling with that. I think I'm struggling because I'm having depressive symptoms. I had a couple of days last week where I was in full blown bipolar rage. Just. So. Angry. It was bad.

And now, well, the last couple of days, today included, I've been having suicidal thoughts. I've wanted to cut. And while I didn't necessarily feel depressed, I feel melancholy and withdrawn and distant.

I know that stability and recovery are a process. An ever going process that I'll always have to work at. Let's be honest - I say I know this, but I often forget it. I have to remember that I have bipolar disorder. I can be stable and doing well and then wake up to full blown depression or mania for no reason. I can't forget that.

I'm starting to think though that this melancholy is my "normal". This is just how I am. And it's better than I was when I was depressed. I should be thankful. I was just hoping there'd be something more. I don't like that I'm still questioning the purpose and meaning of life to the extent of having suicidal thoughts. And I'm not doing this shit on purpose. I try my best to counter or stop these thoughts.

I don't know. This is just frustrating.

Day 12

Weird that today is titled "day 12" when other days were higher up, yeah? Well, a lot of shit has happened since my last post. Like, I actually AM stable. Today is day 12 of being stable. And what does being stable look like for me?

I feel "normal", I guess. I don't really feel happy or sad, I just . . . am. It's kind of blah. Meh. No extreme moods, no hating myself, no wanting to die, no depression, no despair. So that's nice.

It feels very strange though. Everything I'm used to is gone. I almost don't know how to act or interact anymore. I feel awkward and small. I feel like I've lost part of myself. I feel like people don't trust me. I'm insignificant and pretty worthless at times. At least, I still feel that way.

I also feel like I'm walking on a tightrope. One misstep and I'll plummet into the abyss. Back into depression. Back where I was. I don't want to look down, I don't want to look back, I don't want to fall.

Today I felt myself waiver. I felt my foot slip just a little. How? My mood. I'm filled with impatient rage today (the type that is characteristic both in my depression and hypomania - not in feeling normal). I've felt like screaming and crying and throwing and breaking things. I don't really know how I've stopped myself (I have better self control than I give myself credit for I guess). I just want to go to bed. I want this day to be over. I'm just . . . I'm done. No more. And it's only 3pm.

I'd like to start writing more regularly, I just find it hard. Mainly thanks to ECT messing with my brain and making it difficult to form sentences. But maybe the more I do it, the easier it will get. Who knows. Maybe I'll shoot for once a week. Goals, people.

Day 66

I've had some rough days the past few days. And I mean rough. Like losing my shit and sobbing and pounding my head against the wall in the break room at work last Friday and almost completely giving up last night. My depression has been bad. My friend wanted to have me admitted on Friday but I . . . well, I basically talked her out of it. I was with my hubby all day Saturday and Sunday and then worked yesterday, the 4th. It was a very long day putting on my happy face, trying to convince everyone that I was alright. But I did it, and then broke down when I got home.

Anyway, today I saw both my therapist and psychiatrist. This morning my therapist, M, agreed that I probably needed to be in the hospital to keep me safe (the whole banging my head against the wall worried him). We agreed that I would see my psychiatrist first and then go from there. So I saw Dr. M and he said that he would prefer to have me at home if I could be safe there. My hubby and I talked with him, called M back and talked with him, and we all agreed that I could stay home as long as I could stay safe. Well, I can stay safe. And I will stay safe.

Dr. M is also doubling my Latuda dose and seemed confident that that would help the depression. I sure hope so, because I'm so fucking tired.

So yeah. I really don't feel like writing anymore.