Well I’m not depressed but … WTF am I exactly?

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The depressed me is quiet (well quiet for me that is) and doesn’t bother to express much.  It’s just easier that way, I don’t have the energy in me to discuss anything with anyone let alone try to explain things when they are not understood (which is more often than I like).

But what am I now that I’m not depressed?  It is definitely not full blown manic, and it certainly is not level.

I feel like it could be slight mania, then I still tend to have quick shifts to short lasting deflation which accompanies the bursts of energy.

Maybe it’s what is referred to as a ‘mixed state’???

All I know is…

– I have a lot of energy, but zero energy.  I literally feel like I could burst from energy that is clogged inside, yet I don’t have any giddy up/energy to go above and beyond or be proactive.
-I can be moved to over-the-top giddiness with a simple thought and want to squeal in joy and jump around like a spastic toddler but that energy can exhibit itself as over-the-top irritation which makes me want to throw things and growl whatever frustrations are applicable at the time.
-Then there is the “comedic” part.  Oh damn does this part think I am so fucking funny.  That’s it, I think it’s so funny, everyone else seems to think it’s insensitive, violent, maybe even a little psycho to have such thoughts, let alone speak them out loud.

I also know that…

-Half of me wants to just blow everything/one off and not give a damn and half of me wants to shake a bitch and say WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU while the third half (yes I did just say I have 3 halves – and maybe I do) still wants to sit down and cry or “dissolve”.

-Half of me wants to sleep an indefinite slumber and the other half wants to stay up all night long sucking in all the entertainment and information I can get my hands on.

-I have all the answers/perfect responses/know exactly what I’d say to whom; but wait; I have none of the audacity it would take to follow through with those thoughts.
-I have all the best ideas and solutions yet don’t care enough to do shit about it.  (And let’s be real, I think they are all the best but chances are they could be as loony as Bugs Bunny.)

I could go on for hours with examples but I don’t want to.  My point is I am exactly one half combined with the extreme opposite of that half all crammed into one little fleshy shell.

Half of me is proud and loving it, the other half wishing this shit would just fucking stop even though it is better than depression.

This mixed state, or whatever it is requires far too much thinking.  But I suppose I should be grateful it is not full blown mania which can cause earth shattering devastation in my life and I won’t slow down long enough to see it until it’s too late.

Some days I just wish I didn’t have to analyze my brain so much just to keep things in check.

Then I remind myself, analyzing and keeping in check is much preferred to what happens if I am un-medicated and running wild.

Not A Victim but Not in Denial

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I realized that I write more sad/dark content than I write happy/hopeful pieces.  This is not because I am always on the depressed or negatively agitated side of my bipolar coin.  After giving it some thought I realized it is because the happy/hopeful side isn’t as shunned or doesn’t cause confusion/misunderstandings the way the other side can, so I work extra hard to hold the dark parts all inside and keep them from impacting my life or the lives of my loved ones in a negative manner.

After holding it all in, it starts to rot; I write to release it (and hopefully to help others find their way through their own mazes or at least know they aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels).

Don’t mistake my writings as weakness or a drama-fest pity-party – they are far from it.  They represent the strength of surmounting the trials that my disorder can present.

I accepted a long time ago that I am fated to fight this battle.  And fight I always will.

I can proudly say that despite all the dark and ugly thoughts and perceptions that can haunt me, I have learned to keep them mostly inside and keep my life adequately in order.  Or to spew them all to my super awesome soul sister who knows me intimately enough to not misunderstand who I am based on the horrible things that are coming out of my mouth/fingertips.  Thank the stars for her truly getting it – because sometimes she has to remind me of myself and that this person/attitude is only a temporary side effect of my condition.  Also thank the stars for all the loving people in my life that do not shun me or un-love me when I hole up in order to recharge/get myself right and not bleed my blackness all over them.

Onward!  This is called life – it’s for living!

Damn Everyone – Including Me

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Discontent.
Numbness.
Apathy.

Look at the bright side?
Everything’s dark!

Disinclination has taken over.
Nothing is what it was.
Yet nothing has changed.

I’m drowning in shallow water.
Yet I cannot lift my head.

Emptiness.
Contempt.
Desolation.

Happiness is a choice.
Sometimes it’s not!

Facts are facts but feelings are stronger.
It doesn’t matter what I think.
Not during this game.

I’m covered in pessimism.
Regardless of the sunshine.

Ugly Eyes (Poetry)

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Seeing the world through ugly eyes…

Not the way I like to see.
Rubbed the wrong way,
I struggle to stay optimistic.

Some days it seems like “Fuck It” is the best answer.

Seems like, being the key there,
It never works out as nicely.

But ugly eyes…

Sight cast over with cynicism.
Effort seems pointless.
Humanity is exasperating.

Why do I play this game, day after day?
It all seems so burdensome.
What’s the purpose to all of this?

Some days I think I’d be happier left out of this world.

Give me a forest to lie in,
A tree for shade,
Some berries to nibble,
And no part of this thing we call civilized life.

 

Just hold on!

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As exhausting as rapid cycling can be, I have to admit that I like the perk of not being depressed for weeks or months on end.  I have always thought that those that struggle with Type II Bipolar are remarkable, because frankly, I’m not sure how I’d fair during an elongated depression.

That being said, after a brief three day run, I woke up today feeling much lighter.

It’s astonishing how a slight shift in my chemicals can change my world so drastically.  The same things that I looked at yesterday or a couple of days ago and felt absolutely overwhelmed by or saw as the worst of the worst possible situation now look simpler and endurable.  Nothing about these things have changed; it’s all me.  It’s the way the gloomy part of my brain chooses to whisper in my ear and distort my vision.

That’s what I’ve learned to anchor myself to when I’m going through a state that is especially challenging – be it mania or depression; or my favorite, a mixed state.  I continually remind myself that what I see and feel during these times aren’t always truthful, but a scribbled over version of reality.

Sometimes I have to remind myself 200 times in one day NOT to act on that thought/feeling; to just wait and see if I feel the same about it next week.  My depressed thoughts may tell me that someone doesn’t like me, or that I am inadequate, or that I totally suck as a mother; but that’s all it is, my depressed mind saying that to me (for fun I guess?).
I cannot think of a more effective way for me to appear nuttier than peanut butter than treating every dark whisper as a fact.
Once you open a can, it’s open.  Once you express a thought to another it cannot be unheard by them.

My best advice is DON’T DO IT.  Just hold on, wait until you see the little signs that you are rising again, before you run with ANYTHING!  (I say this realizing that there are going to be some things that just have to happen, that cannot be put on hold.  Sometimes life doesn’t give a shit if you’re bipolar and doesn’t have time to wait for you.)

At times when I am in a depressed state, I hole up and interact as little as possible.  Yes, partly because it is too damned challenging and I simply don’t have the energy; but the other part is, the less I do, the less of a mess I’ll be making out of things around me.

The people in your life will understand, or they won’t.  The ones that do not, will either get over it or they will get on with it (it being life) without you.

The important part is that you won’t be trying to undo a bunch of regrets when you shift into the next bipolar state.

It will all be okay, just keep holding on!

Trapped Inside Myself

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I’m in some kind of way.

A heavy sadness resides within, long sleeps and strange confusing dreams.

All will eludes me for no good reason. The only desire I have is to just stop, cease to be. If only I could crawl into a corner and quietly disintegrate.

What is wrong with me?

It would all be easier if I could just decompose back into the Earth.

Then there is the overwhelming sense of responsibility … There are people that rely on me. I hate letting my loved ones down. I feel selfish.

Overwhelmed, I push.

And I push.

Hoping all the while my fucked up brain will shift again.

Trapped inside myself.

Checkmate? (Poetry)

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Twisted inside; choking on myself.
Maybe I’m the doll
That should be left on the shelf.

Sickened within
By my own frame of mind;
Feeling all sorts of misaligned.

Miss-matched and varied;
A patchwork of personality,
All fighting to be unburied.

An unappetizing mix
Contradicting into itself;
Light as air, heavy as bricks.

All I can do is let them battle
Until they dissipate,
And my core-self can yell “Checkmate!”

~Sandserene 5/11/17