|Sep 09 2010|
For a little while there I wasn't doing anything I was supposed to, not journaling, not doing my morning focus or evening wrap-up; not even exercising and eating right. And as far as a sleepschedule? Forget it! I blamed everything on moving, which was a huge stressor for me. But I realized somewhere in there that part of it was me rebelling against the move and all these changes. See, change is my biggest trigger for an episode. Surprisingly, being on two antidepressants doesn't send me into manic phase when I start going into an episode. Nope, I go straight to depression. Maybe it's because my baseline mood when I'm not in an episode is mildly depressed.
Who knows? I'm making a conscious effort to get back into some sort of routine, to try and pay attention to my food, my exercise, my sleep. I'm mostly forcing myself to do my writing, and even found I had ignored here for quite awhile. Thank God I at least went to my physical support group! Things are hard, there's no real easy way out of anything, and the past always catches up with you, even though there's no way to change it.
I'm making a lot of progress with dealing with the past, though. Just this week my estranged husband and I sat down and had a few good conversations in a row. After going back over everything and establishing my timeline for this past year or so, I realized a lot of things about our relationship, and where we were when this disease really started kicking in. I realized that many of the decisions I made were based on a lengthy manic episode, and the others were made as self-destructive ways to pay myself back for the bad things and choices I was doing and making.
I've always been self-defeating, and I tend to push away rather than reach out. It has been hard for me to reach out to anyone since being in the nuthouse twice. I still find excuses not to go out of the house other than work, errands, etc. I talk to people mostly by text or email or Facebook, and I'm pretty tight-lipped about my emotions even with my support group here at home, as well as my meetings.
I don't know if things will ever change for me again. I'm very resistant to change, maybe that's why the disease has such a hold on me now. I know I want to change my living situation and my financial situation. Those are things I can control and have a future plan for. I want to get better, I really do, I want to stop the self-defeating thoughts, the recurrent thoughts, the depressive episodes. I know that medicine can only do so much, and the rest is up to me.
Usually every two to three days I get to feeling suicidal, but so far no plan and no urge to act on it. I think I really am afraid of dying, and that's what's stopping me. People say you should have a lot of good reasons to stick around. My self-defeating thoughts keep me from recognizing those good reasons. I even made a list while I was well, and now when I get into a depressive episode, even that makes me snort in disbelief.
So everyday that I'm here is still a fight. Supposedly, according to everybody, I'm doing great. I'm holding down my job well, taking care of my kids, managing my finances and in general seem to be taking really good care of what I need to. So why in my head do I know that I'm really not? That I'm really only acting the part, and deep inside I know that although I'm going through the motions, all these things I'm doing give me no satisfaction, and don't drive me to anything further?
I never want to come out of my shell. It hurts too much out there. So here I sit in the dark, just being.
"......could we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now...."
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