I haven’t written in a while. Life has been crazy lately. I plan to add some new posts in the next few days to talk more about what’s been going on.


Is It the Holidays or Am I Just Blue?

When it comes to the holidays and how I feel emotionally from my various mental health disorders (chiefly my bipolar, but also my anxiety, PTSD, and other issues), sometimes it is hard to tell what is responsible for what. On the one hand, I have been down for several days now but on the other hand, it’s Christmas Eve today and I’m having a hard time telling if I have the holiday blues or the depression blues.

This morning, all I wanted to do was sleep. I had to drag myself out of bed to take care of the pets and then to get ready to go to the church I work at to perform a duet with my little cousin in the Christmas Program. This should have been a really fun event for me as I adore my cousin and I have always loved playing my flute. But instead I was trying not to look as tired as I was and I was really trying to fight off a panic attack that was threatening to rear its ugly head.

Now, I am back home and all I want to do is go to sleep. But I know that that will affect my ability to sleep tonight and that my sleeping to avoid life and to avoid being awake and dealing with my emotional state is not the best way to go about things. So, here I sit, watching a horror movie (my personal favorite genre), trying to stay awake and get some work done today. I guess we will see how it goes today as I am on my own until tomorrow. Hopefully, things will work out for the better and I can get some work done in spite of this depression.

I’d Rather Be Asleep

When I am depressed, and I mean really depressed, being awake is a constant struggle. Every movement that I make, even the slightest shift in position is like it takes all of the effort in the world. I have three dogs and taking them outside or feeding them makes me feel as if I am going to collapse from exhaustion. I feel like the worst person in the world because I am so exhausted and have so little energy to devote to them or to my cats, especially since they are the only things that keep me going some days.

When I am depressed, I would rather be asleep 99.9% of the time. When I sleep, I can be anyone and anything. I don’t have to deal with the exhaustion of my daily life. I can just be. I can live the life I have always though I should. A lot of times, my dreams are like I’m in a movie. They can be intensely dramatic or scary, or funny, or romantic, but no matter what, they are always so much better than my real life with depression.

It is a horrible feeling when the “life” in your dreams is better than the life you are living, when every breath you take can feel like more work than you can bear and all you want is some relief. I feel like this is what it means to truly be suicidal or might be the feeling that precipitates the feeling of being suicidal. Because if you can’t stand to even take your dogs out in your backyard because it physically exhausts you, what can you do?

Is this a real life that I’m living if the fantasy is preferable to the reality? Is life worth living if all I want is to be asleep. A part of me knows that this feeling, like all of my periods of depression will pass, but I have been through this so many times that I have to wonder when it will ever get better. Clearly my meds are only doing so much and it might be time to make a change again. I guess after Christmas I will be putting in a call to my doctor once again.


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Missing One Day of Meds…

It is amazing to me that missing one day of my meds could cause so many weeks of struggle and difficulty. I fell asleep early one night after a long and exhausting day of work. And of course, I did not take my meds for anxiety and bipolar at bedtime the way I normally do.

I woke up the next morning and figured that everything would be fine as long as I took my medications normally that night (which I did). But over the next few weeks, I noticed a sinking depression that just settled in over me like a huge, heavy cloud. I couldn’t write or do my work and it was tough to even get out of bed. Suicidal thoughts came back and I didn’t know what to do or why this was happening.

I talked to my therapist about the situation and mentioned that I had missed a single dose of my medications. Immediately it was like something clicked for her. She told me that just a single dose being off could cause mood swings and that pretty soon my system would get back to normal on the meds again.

And boy was she right. I feel in control again now and I feel as though my moods have stabilized enough to get back to my work full-force and start blogging regularly again. I am feeling like me again. And I will be sure from now on that I take my meds before I lay down to rest, even if it is only 7 or 8pm.


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Donations to the Blog

If you would like to donate to keep this blog going, feel free, but please do not feel obligated!


My dad continued…

So, in my previous post, I mentioned that my father and I are estranged. The reason for this is his drinking and a step that I took with the help of my therapist to distance myself from the toxic situation and relationship that I have with my father. His drinking scares me and when he drinks I never know if the mean drunk will come out or if he will just drink to the point of being a bit jovial. It usually ends up being the meaner side that comes out in my experience.

Anyway, yesterday, I found out that my grandfather is quite ill and I decided to drive up to see him and to stay with my grandmother while he is hospitalized. The only issue is that my dad lives in the same small town and obviously will be around his parents during this time. In fact, he is the first one that told me about the situation.

I got here and things are, of course, normal between me and my grandparents, but not between me and my father. He didn’t hug me hello and kept his distance…acting cordial for the sake of my grandparents.

At one point when we were alone, I told him that my diagnosis has changed to bipolar. Why I did this I am not sure. I guess I thought it would be better if he found out from me directly since I am here. He did not really react and when I mentioned it again, he said something about it being hereditary and how it must be from my mother (it is not).

Then, when he was leaving my grandparents’ house for the night, he mentioned the letter I had sent him. I confronted him about his drinking behavior and other issues we have had over the years in a letter because it was the only way I felt safe to express myself without immediately being argued with or shamed for how I feel.

All he said to me last night was that we need to discuss this letter sometime, but probably not on this trip because he is already stressed and upset. He also said, “all I will leave you with is that it was pretty cold” and just walked out of the house without another word. However, the tone with which he said it was full of rage and hatred.

Instead of considering my words and knowing that he has hurt me my entire life, he blames me for being cold. Instead of dealing with his drinking and stopping (he hasn’t even considered it), he passive aggressively threatens me. I am in a toxic environment away from my support system and I know that when I finally do get home I am going to probably have a crash into depression which always happens after dealing with my dad. Not a great start to the week in my bipolar life.