Right now I just want to lock the doors to the house, close all the blinds, turn off the lights, flip channels and eat myself into oblivion. I don't want company, and yet I wish SOMEONE would visit. But I hate charity more than anything. If someone did knock on the door and put on some face and voice that said, "Hey, Brian! Gosh, well, why don't you come over and eat dinner?", I'd know it was a put up job and I'd probably want to shut the door and lock it and let them walk away, shaking their head.
So, instead, I'll go to church tomorrow because I am conducting in sacrament meeting. When it's over, I'll probably say I'm sick and go home, because I have nothing else to do there. Nobody will miss me. If I were not in the branch presidency, I would just disappear and nobody would know.
See how easy it is? If not for my job, I would be invisible. But THEY would care, since somebody else would have to work my shift. So at least my absence there affects others.
See how easy it is? If not for my job, I would be invisible. But THEY would care, since somebody else would have to work my shift. So at least my absence there affects others.
Here's my confession: I'm bipolar. Some of you know that. Others may not. I don't really care anymore. I'm tired of hiding it like it's something to be ashamed of. I didn't do anything to "catch" it. It's not contagious. It's not illegal. It's not immoral. It's like having diabetes and you are healthy otherwise. Nobody ridicules or blames the diabetic. But mental illness has a huge stigma attached.
I've never been know to walk away from a fight. But I feel like I've been fighting the publicity since i found out about six years ago.
I am truly blessed in that I don't spend a year or more in either a depressed or manic state. I feel for those who do. But rapic cycling from a couple months down to a few hours can be difficult, too. I can go from manic to depressed inside of a week. When depressed, like now, I have no energy. It takes all I have to get up out of bed. Effective? Forget it. I can't even start things. I eat. That's about it. I am in a dark cave and nothing offers hope. I went on a motorcycle ride today, and it just pissed me off. The road was bumpy. The desert and mountains were ugly. The sky was a monotonous blue. Other drivers needed to be killed, bless their hearts.
When I'm manic, I have so much energy I can't sleep. But I can't focus, either. It takes all my efforts to stick to one project or activity for more than a few minutes. I get nothing done. I start a bunch of things and never them.
The last thing I successfully finished was my mission. And that was only because of two things: a mission president who was strict enough to keep me in line, which I needed. And my father, who knew somehow that I would probably not finish and told me to not come home early. I stayed long enough to NOT disappoint Dad, until I love my mission and stayed for the right reason.
I have never finished Weight Watchers. I never earned my black belt. I can't even mow the lawn on a regular basis and care for a yard. I am slowly eating myself to death. I am addicted to food. I have an addictive personality. I am afraid I won't be able to finish an addiction program. I'll start it, but I will get distracted or run out of steam.
Well, sorry for the possibly depressing diatribe. Nothing I can do about it but keep taking my meds and hope I make it.
10 comments:
This sounds like one of my journal entries when I am not on my hormones.
Ugh!
I love you dad. I don't think there is anything that I can say to help you...but know that I love you.
Jamee
xoxo
My initial response was to begin writing a list of things that I think would be things that you have "finished" other than your mission. Then I stopped. You and I are enough alike that I know with a fair certainty what the reaction to such a list would be. I am in a similar place as you, right now. In fact, my new therapist is strongly suggesting meds for me, bipolar meds, as a matter of fact. His only concern, weight gain, has caused him to continue working therapy rather than sending me to my physician immediately. The only thing that has brought me any kind of peace, in the past week or so since the down has gotten really bad was a novella that I have not read for years. In a spate of totally RIDICULOUS coincidences, it happened to be one of the books I picked up last Friday night when I was sitting on the bed, surrounded by books by some pretty dark authors. I was feeling sorry for myself because my husband absolutely refuses to go out on dates and I wanted to be going out on a date. So I shut myself away from the rest of the family, who were watching the Friday night fights, with a bunch of treats, of the written and edible kind and started angrily reading. After a couple of Poe stories, I opened "Different Seasons" by Stephen King, and turned to the first novella in this collection, "Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption". I almost passed it up. This story, both the book and the movie, piss me off. When the warden refuses to aid Andy in obtaining freedom when the true killer is possibly found, I come unglued, every time....well...every time until now. The spirit prompted me to read this work. So I did. And by the end, I was beside myself with the message that God had given me. Andy did not quit. Andy was willing to spend decades nursing hope in the most hopeless of circumstances. He was also willing to move his way through 500 yards of crap, of the most unspeakable kind, in order to escape his prison. Brian, you have a prison. We all do, but your's is a tough one. And it is not a prison that you can escape at this time. But it is one that will be behind you, at some point. Yes, you are forced to crawl through hundreds of yards of crap before you get 100% freedom, but it will be worth it. It will be. The one thing that you are aware of as a blessing in this blog post is that is your bipolarism is short cycling. That is enough of a hope to grab onto and cling to, until other hope arrives, in whatever form that hope takes. There is only one being who has been 100% in your prison. You know who that is, just check in and remind Him that you are struggling in the prison right now, that's all. Good luck my friend. Prayers are headed your way.
I know from my struggles with depression that sometimes the only thing that would shine a little light in the darkness was thinking of someone who I knew loved me. Of course, I would never call them or reach out to them; I was too chicken and just thought. I, too, am tired of hiding something about my life that isn't my fault, isn't contagious, etc. I was sexually abused as a child. Whew! That actually feels good. I also don't want people to feel sorry for me or see me as a victim. That is not my identity any more that you are your disease. I am glad you have made efforts to get out of the house. Don't give up!
Thank you sounds pathetic. I love you sounds...inadequate. "Is anybody there?" sounds like an echo in a cave. Not that I wish depression or mania or abuse on anyone, but it's good to know your lives suck, too. You know what I mean. Who knows? Tomorrow mine might not suck. I might forget this feeling. I'm sitting here at 12:30 Monday morning listening to Yanni and Blue October and Warren Zevon and can't decide which makes me feel better or worse. On TV there was this commercial for Pristiq, an anti-depressant, with the most beautiful music I've heard in a long time. I'll see if I can post it later.
I was going to ride down to Garden Pass tomorrow, but don't think I'll have the energy. Besides the lawn needs mowing and the dog next door need petting so he won't bark all day long, and I need to go to the grocery store. In fact, I think I'll just get dressed and go now with the other Walmartians. Shucks, I don't even need to get dressed to go there. Nobody would notice if I went in a thong with flashing lights. Not that I'm wearing that now...
Yes, I know what you mean. I am strangely comforted in the knowledge that you are down right now as well. Sorry and thanks.
At Cindy's suggestion, I took an extra small pill of my normal meds just take the edge off. I have found that that helps in emergencies. It has taken the edge off for now. I'll do that for three days and see how it goes. I also went out and mowed the back yard until it just got too hot. That helped. Then I played racquet ball at the gym with a friend for about half an hour and that helped. Now I'm sitting at the office with another human being and that helps. It's funny how such an extroverted person can hate huge crowds but crave the companionship of at least another person. I am no Thoreau or Jeremiah or Moroni who spent days and weeks and even years alone. If I had been Thoreau I would have lasted a week and then hiked into town and driven everyone nuts jabbering away. If I had been Jeremiah, I would have driven my captors in the jail nuts and they would either have let me go and driven ME away or just executed me then. If I had been Moroni, I would have finally resorted to looking up the Lamanites and either told them jokes and won them over, or just started picking fights. Something to ease the boredom.
There. I feel better.
I am glad you feel better. You are so blessed, I wish I had a Cindy!
I haven't been on blogger much since I can only use the iPad and it won't let me post anything...anyhoo, that's why I am just now commenting. So you know you can call me when you are feeling this way?! It doesn't matter that I am your daughter, you can confide in me just as I can in you and mom. And since I am basically the same person as you are, I am pretty sure I will understand anything you wanna throw my way. it's ok if you would rather vent on here but just know you can vent to me as well. I love you and hope you are feeling a little better. Let me know how you are doing today.
Thanks, Stevie. I will next time. I feel much better now.
And Cynthia, you made a comment about your own nunyuns that I tried to publish but for some reason it did not show up. I'll try and find it and publish it, despite the mocking nature of it toward me, I must say.
My comment is there, under the photo of cool Beau, I see it at least. It is followed by a grumpy comment from you and a delighted comment from Stevie.
Just for the record, yes you should use Stevie, but the writing is good as well. That is what the therapist keeps telling me anyway! And it does help others, like myself.
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