I reach for the phone, but something stops me. I think I should call my therapist and let her know I am not doing so well. But, I cannot dial the phone. I stare at the screen and repeat her phone number. My fingers remain frozen and lifeless. I practice what I might say. All I hear is darkness. The words do not come. The tears christen my cheek. I can feel the hardwood floor supporting me. I just want to curl into myself. Shut the world out. “Handle it on my own.” I’ve been trying to handle this, bipolar disorder, for a couple years now. I’m not sure when I am actually going to learn I cannot do it alone. I know my husband is watching me out of the corner of his eye, gauging me.
Last night he gave me soooo much room to tell him what is happening for me. He asked me softly. Gently. Lovingly. Somewhat forcefully. I didn’t bite. I could not bring myself to tell him I was having intrusive thoughts of harming myself accompanied by visuals of ways to go about it. Very vivid and detailed plans. I could not get them to stop. I tried everything: I listened to music through headphones. Mopped the kitchen floor. Worked on an art project. Nothing helped. I finally took a medication to take a nap. I needed relief STAT. It was my last resort. Thank goodness it worked to some degree.
The last two mornings I have felt very depressed. The initial symptoms that landed me in the hospital were depression and psychosis. Luckily the depression subsided for about a month, but now its like I am dipping my toes in that poison again. I can just feel it in my body. When I wake up, that heaviness, that lack of desire to face anything weighs me down. I just want to cry for no reason at all. Holding back the tears is nearly impossible. Actually getting out of bed is a physical feat. But, somehow I do. I don’t linger in bed for long as that would spell disaster for me. Ruminating on these past 2 months would not be beneficial in the least. Thoughts of giving up are bouncing around my mind.
Sounds silly but I look forward to my cozy slippers I bought for myself. I love the smell of coffee first thing in the morning. It’s a quiet time to spend with my husband as well. We do chat, but mostly we just move about the morning. The cats scurry back and forth from the food bowl. The sun inches ever higher. The warming of my body as I sip coffee from my favorite cup is inviting. We get up early, seems before the day has started for many people. Its ours to cherish.
As of right now, since I am not working, my husband leaves work and I have 2 hours before I have to be anywhere. I am a low maintenance gal, so it takes me about 40 minutes to get ready in the morning. Those 2 hours are either agonizingly slow or too fast. It just depends on my mood. Lately, I have been making an extra point in working out. Even if its for 20 minutes. I have to expel negative energy or it catches up with me throughout the day. I have a treadmill at home and exercise equipment. Today I did a bodyweight routine I made up. My first round was quite lackluster, but the third was pretty strong. It takes so much convincing to get my body moving. If I tell myself I only have to do 5 minutes, invariably I do more. I have a long history of being very active and then not active at all. I don’t want to lose the desire to workout on top of everything else.
I’m trying damn hard to turn my thinking around. These past 2 painful months can’t be for not. Mental Illness is brutal. Bipolar disorder is doing what it will with my life right now. I don’t feel like I’m in control of much. I guess I can be in control of what words I choose to write and in turn what attitude I am trying to adopt. This episode is one of the hardest things I have had to go through. Well, I think I say that about every episode as they seem to come along and blow my socks off. Disrupt my life for who knows how long.
As the day winds down and my husband returns home from a long day at work, I am sipping tea and writing. Its not the worst gig in the world. I can only hope tomorrow is better and better after that.