White Knuckling

I am trapped inside my my mind. I shout. I rebel. I long for expression. Yet I sit silent. My words, my connection, with you is severed. I don’t think this is my fault. You see I need you to hear me. My voice, well, has “left the building.” My bipolar depression has wrapped itself around me. I am muffled at best.
The world spins. Days rise and set. I sit. Staring at the wall. Resting. Movement is slow and overwhelming. Getting out of bed is an accomplishment. Brushing my teeth over the top. Accolades do not resonate. Guilt hangs on my chest. Why can’t I do more. Go to work. Cook a simple meal. Even think about making coffee? I’m so exhausted yet I haven’t actually moved in days.
I left messages with my boss. With my therapist. With my psychiatrist. Not necessarily in that order. Explaining. Maybe it mostly sounding like excuses. The honesty I exuded was painful then. Admitting my cognition, stamina, memory was compromised took all I had. But, really looking back, it was probably obvious to others. I was barely hanging on. My face often flush, looking hung over. Raw. Fragile. The hangover was from emotion, floods of tears, uncertainty. White knuckling a mood disorder.
The darkness has moved in. Rented space without a lease. I didn’t know it was coming and I don’t know when it would leave. Scary synopsis for a person w bipolar disorder. The reality of daylight savings time this weekend has me quivering. Bold black night greeting me at 5pm. It affects me. Deeply.
My action plan, if I can muster the energy? Walks in the midday sunlight. Big cleansing breaths with sun on my face. Quiet time in the holiday craze. If that’s not possible, I steal just 5 minutes here and there. I have a you tube video w a song called “Breathe” I listen to in headphones. Just me and the music. Its a reminder and a reprieve at the same time.
Fall is a time of beauty. A cleansing as the rains come. For me personally, its a time to really take notice of my internal clock. My tolerance or intolerance of noise, light, crowds. As the leaves change so does my mood. Historically speaking, I’m vulnerable this time of year. Armed with this information I can do my best to manage all that comes.

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