I had a layover in reality recently. The realities of bipolar-II. I was very depressed for a few weeks, all I wanted to do was sleep, and that I did. For weeks, I stayed up until 5 am, then slept all day. I was not interested in getting on the computer, blogging, journaling or ebay shopping. My friend finally said he was tired of trying to pull me up. He is a good friend, he was not being cruel. At the time it felt like cruelty because I wasn't ready to resume life. It really scared me, thinking he would leave me behind in the new millennium. But he said the magic words "you are acting like a victim" and it all seemed clear. Was I depressed or feeling sorry for myself, and is there a difference to the outside world?
There is no one who understands depression like those who suffer from it. It always looks like I'm feeling sorry for myself, when I just don't care, I'm not interested, or I'm just so sad I don't want to be poked.
I know everybody gets depressed, but having straight up depression is a beast amongst itself. To all of you who have a friend or relative who suffers from clinical depression, please remember we are not just acting like victims, we can't just snap out of it, and it looks ugly and without strength. It just hurts.
When I'm in depressed mode I feel physically sick as well. Not flu sick, just a brown cloud that hangs about eye level. I can't see through it, around it or under it. I forget there is anything else. I remember feeling well and don't know how to get back, or if I ever will get back. It's dark there. The sentence is not qualified in time. And I've been there for a year at a time. The meds that are my lifeline sometimes stop being effective. It took me 10 years to get the right diagnosis and medication. That fear will never go away. Being back there, I don't know how you spend the time in that jail cell.
This brings me to another point. I want my blog to reflect truth and reality for my disability. Up to this point I have tried to be funny and cute, but I'm making it real from now on. Maybe it will look funny, like I'm bitching or like I'm living a sloppy life. Life is gritty, and I want to capture that. That is my goal.
There is no one who understands depression like those who suffer from it. It always looks like I'm feeling sorry for myself, when I just don't care, I'm not interested, or I'm just so sad I don't want to be poked.
I know everybody gets depressed, but having straight up depression is a beast amongst itself. To all of you who have a friend or relative who suffers from clinical depression, please remember we are not just acting like victims, we can't just snap out of it, and it looks ugly and without strength. It just hurts.
When I'm in depressed mode I feel physically sick as well. Not flu sick, just a brown cloud that hangs about eye level. I can't see through it, around it or under it. I forget there is anything else. I remember feeling well and don't know how to get back, or if I ever will get back. It's dark there. The sentence is not qualified in time. And I've been there for a year at a time. The meds that are my lifeline sometimes stop being effective. It took me 10 years to get the right diagnosis and medication. That fear will never go away. Being back there, I don't know how you spend the time in that jail cell.
This brings me to another point. I want my blog to reflect truth and reality for my disability. Up to this point I have tried to be funny and cute, but I'm making it real from now on. Maybe it will look funny, like I'm bitching or like I'm living a sloppy life. Life is gritty, and I want to capture that. That is my goal.
Photo by Randy Boyd
