I took Facebook off my phone because I wasn’t using it right. I was minding it for all the stressful anxiety-ridden things I could find.
I still feel useful at work. I can still get things done. I can make eye contact and interact with people and plan lessons and right tests. I can go to meetings. I can mentor students. I can even smile and mean it.
But I can’t sustain this level of energy. And by the time I get home I don’t want to deal with anything. And I feel like I’m putting far too much pressure on Spouse to pick up all the pieces.
Which isn’t fair. And it keeps happening. And that sucks. I’m afraid that if it continues, eventually the decision will be inevitable… that I am not worthy.
This is the depression that my acquaintance said they could deal with if they were dating someone with bipolar.
Personally, I think I am a lot easier to live with hypo manic. At least I get a lot done, even if the things I get done or not necessarily what we planned.
instead of doing things that I know I need to do, I am sitting around wallowing in the fact that I don’t feel like I can do anything. Can you wallow in a fact? I feel perfectly able to wallow in anything whatsoever. It could be my new hobby.
It Feels almost like I am ultra rapid cycling from euthemia to depression depending on the time of day. Rising and setting with the sun. And the sun sets early here.
this afternoon I had idle thoughts about what it might be like to use controlled substances not prescribed to me. Alcohol. Cannabis. Magic brownies.
These are thoughts that I do not plan to act upon. Don’t worry. I just wondered what it would feel like. And I could see the appeal if it makes you feel better even for a short time. But I am far too focused on the end results to fall for such a scheme.
I need to make a list. Reminder list just small of things that I could do. Little things that would make me feel effective without overwhelming me. I could wash a sink full of dishes. I could fold a basket of laundry. I could send myself on these little missions and in small pieces work my way back to feeling useful when I am not at work.
I want to be hypomanic. I want to get things done. I want to need less sleep. I want to feel excited. Let my heart to race. I want to have so many ideas that I cannot write them down fast enough. I want to feel like I have superpowers. The good kind.
if I could do something that would trip me into hypomania, I totally would. But only if I could be assured 100% that I could stay there. And would not have to pay with equal parts from depression later.
I would only agree to this mythic hypomanic state if there were a legally binding contract that stated I would not escalate into mania, nor experience any psychosis.
I am maudlin. I am in the house alone. I can hear the sound of the clock ticking. This post is bringing me down. I imagine people reading it and being alarmed. Which is not my intention.
I just want to have a record. I want to be able to read this in the future and remember what it felt like. I want to be able to tell psych NP how my depression is doing. And what months tend to be the most difficult for me.
If I read a post just saying I’m a bit down, it doesn’t give me good data. If I don’t post anything at all, it doesn’t tell me anything at all. By tomorrow I will have forgotten what I posted here. Not entirely, but I will have forgotten the details.
grateful crap: I am not manic.
Equatorial actions: not a damn thing.
Quaker, teacher, parent,