A Down Cycle
Trigger warning — Talk of suicide and self harm
Some days are better than others.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted. Well, it’s been two months. I guess I haven’t had much to say. Or I have had a lot to say, but I haven’t been able to put things into coherent thoughts, so this post might be all over the place and I apologize for that in advance.
I had a job. But it didn’t last long. It seems that I can’t really hold one down these days. There’s a lot going on with me mentally and with my family physically, so a job just isn’t something that is taking priority, which is bad, because the world these days revolves around the almighty dollar. Emotionally, I have a hard time staying focused. I’m finding myself spacing out, overwhelmed, and on edge. I’m still battling for control on my anger. It bubbles and boils right below the surface, though I told my doctor I was fine – because I didn’t want to be placed on more meds or have yet another increase. Little things set me off and I find myself trying to calm down before I boil over with anger.
The job itself was fine . But dealing with people again set me off. I felt the need to be around others but the desire to be alone was overwhelming. The need to prove myself was even more powerful, so I tried my best to work through it. When things got tough, I walked outside to just take a moment of silence. Because sometimes the noise in my head gets too loud. It’s like that now. I have the need to be around others, but I would rather be alone too. So, anyhow, I lost the job because I couldn’t maintain steady attendance.
Because of losing my job, and with stresses going on at home, I have been in a depressive state. Again, not that I have told my doctor. And I don’t see him again until October. I don’t do much now – I don’t have much energy and I just don’t want to. I sit in my room and read, or sleep, or watch Netflix, because I don’t want to interact with anyone. Because interacting with people takes energy that I don’t have, and with my temper being as short as it is, it’s just safer for everyone for me to stay isolated. Do people say things about me being in my room all day? Probably. But that doesn’t change my behavior. I mean, I try. I try to go and make an effort. But making an effort is exhausting.
I feel like I’ve given up. And I’ve told my husband this. He doesn’t think I’ve given up. He says that I haven’t reached that point, because I am still taking care of myself. I’m still getting up in the morning, still showering, still taking care of the dogs and our cat. I’m still taking care of him and the bills. I’m still trying. My “resilence” is still pushing me through this depression. I haven’t hit rock bottom yet. But I feel like I’m dangerously close. I feel like I’ve given up, because I don’t have a job, and I don’t feel like I could manage a job. I feel like I can’t manage simple things, like the bills. Discussing them makes me anxious. Discussing money makes me anxious. And, of course, that’s something that we have to do in order to survive each month. I feel like I’ve given up. But my husband doesn’t see that, he says that I’m strong. Maybe I am and I don’t see it?
Resilence is something that keeps coming up. It’s on my paperwork from the clinic. I want to say that I don’t understand it. But I do. I realize that after years and years of fighting this disease that is constantly trying to kill me, I’m still here. Even when every brain cell is telling me to kill myself, I’m still here, fighting for every single second of my life. I have some goals. Like, I want a family, even though that scares me to death, I want one. I want kids. I want a home full of life. And that scares me. But, I think that’s the disease talking. And I’m fighting it. Because I know that that is something that I want. So I’m going to fight for it. So, I guess, in that sense, they were right in putting that I am resilent. Because even though my brain is trying to kill me, I’m trying to live.
That’s another thing that I told my husband…. It’s something that I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and while I can say with confidence that I am safe, I am also thinking about suicide. I don’t mean that I am going to kill myself. I am saying that suicide is almost all I can think about. With everything going on, it seems to be the easiest solution. If I weren’t here, my husband wouldn’t be spending money on me for food, or electricity, or bills that we can’t pay, or something. If I weren’t here, we wouldn’t have the dogs or the cat and there wouldn’t be money spent on their food each month. All the while, I know this isn’t a solution. I know that killing myself doesn’t solve anything. I know that it would hurt people. I know that it would break people and solve absolutely no problems. But this is the solution that my disorder comes up with.
And then, thinking about suicide and the effects it would have on my family cascades into thoughts of self harm. Why? Because, I can’t stand the idea of hurting others. The idea of leaving everyone behind to suffer my death hurts me and it makes my heart hurt. And that is emotional pain that I can’t handle. That makes me want to hurt myself. Does it solve anything? No. But it’s a go-to coping skill. And, again, while I can say that I’m safe and not hurting myself and not acting on the thoughts that are running through my mind, it’s almost all I can think about.
The best times that I have right now are when I’m with my husband or when I’m with my mom. When I’m with either of them, I can be myself. I don’t have to filter my mouth or my thoughts. I can just talk. My husband makes me feel safe and happy. Sometimes, we fight, because we’re stressed and I feel like that’s my fault – because when anything goes wrong it’s my fault (even if it’s not, because that’s how my brain works). But with him, my dark days, he sits with me. We talk, he helps me. Even when I can’t figure out what’s real or not real, he helps me. We talk things through. And on my good days, he’s there with me too. And with my mom, I grew up with her. Being with her is natural. Even before I knew she was my mom, I was the most comfortable with her. I could be myself with her and to this day, I can be myself with her. Even on my worst day, I can be with her.
Things get better, it’s just a matter of when. With bipolar disorder, it’s a matter of how long the cycle will last. So, I guess I just need to batton down the hatches until this depression passes.