About once a month I wake up in the morning feeling sick. My stomach hurts, I have a headache, I can’t quite wake up, I can’t nap. I stay in bed or lay on the couch. I tell everyone that I feel like I’m getting sick so they should stay away from me.
And the next day I feel fine.
It’s my depression.
It happened yesterday. I postponed my trip to see my Mommom. She’s 97 and I don’t want to take anything near her. But, I also knew it was possible that I didn’t feel well because of the depression.
And this morning I woke up feeling fine. I’m a little drowsy, but that’s because of the Trazadone I took last night to help me sleep. Most of the time the Ambien and Klonopin is enough, but sometimes I have to put the Trazadone in there.
Part of my relief came from a phone call from hubby last night. He called A to find out what the mother was talking about with her little Facebook rant about me. Apparently, A doesn’t even know. She’s confused as well. Her response on the page had been to the way the post originally read, but it had been changed from a post arguing with A to a post ripping me apart. It’s still on my mind, but the tone has changed.
The depression isn’t gone though. I’m in the midst of a bipolar depression event with a heavy helping of situational depression thrown in.
And I hate it.
I’m in the middle of a unique opportunity right now. I’m just over the half-way point of a two week trip to spend time with my grandmother. My parents are away, so I’m caring for their dogs as well.
And I’m dragging.
And I’m isolating. I have friends here. I could be socializing, but I’m not.
Before I knew I had bipolar and all my other diagnoses, I didn’t understand why I was so down so often. I didn’t recognize the mania for what it was. And I was confused.
When I was diagnosed, I was relieved. I knew what was happening. I had names to put to conditions. And there was medication out there that could make me feel better.
Now, I’m afraid all the time. I’m medication resistant. Nothing works for long. I go to therapy twice a week, but it’s really just a place for me to vent. We try to work on coping skills but since the meds don’t ever work for long, we never really have time to work out issues. Of course, even if I work out an issue, it only changes situational depression, not bipolar depression. And the mania frightens me. As I rise out of the depression towards happiness there is the constant thought of “what if it’s mania” running through my brain. I try to enjoy the happiness, I do, but I worry.
I’m also moving towards a place where I’m starting to feel like I’m going to need a hospital stay. The last time I felt like this I was in the hospital within two months. The depression just goes lower and lower and I worry more and more. And I start to think about suicide in dribs and drabs. Then more. I think about it now. I have no plan, I just think about it sometimes. Peace. No more agonizing over every single thing.
I’m safe. I’m not going to do anything.
But, I think about it.
How does your bipolar affect your daily living?