I’ve been severely depressed for a week or two now and yesterday it kind of hit a boiling point. I decided to try to get out of the house and drive to a local park to do some journaling, but all that ended up doing was causing a breakdown. I cried on the drive over, I cried while at the park, I cried on the drive home, and when I got back home I collapsed into bed and sobbed for at least an hour straight. By the time it was over, my pillow was soaked clear through and I had a migraine coming on.
I did journal while I was at the park, but it sort of ended up turning into a mock suicide letter – I was that depressed. I didn’t have the intention to go through with any form of suicidal action, but I sure felt the desire to do so. I felt so low that I had almost convinced myself that even my husband would be better off without me and would probably be relieved to be rid of me. Depression is a masterful liar and can be very persuasive.
Today I’m not feeling a lot better. More numb than anything I suppose. My body feels extremely heavy, like I have put on several hundred pounds, although I know the real weight is internal, not external. I might try to force myself out of the house again, just to see if today might go better than yesterday, but right now, I can’t even drum up the energy to take a bath. The most depressing thing is that THIS is my life. THIS is what living with Bipolar type 2 is like. I’m stuck on a wheel that I can’t get off. I’m so sick of this cycle.
Hi! I was flipping through my journal today and thought maybe I would share a few random bits of poetry with you! These are poetry bits that never made it into larger poems, but I still kind of like them!
“My soft, strawberry soul
thrives like cold rain
in the quiet shade of the vine.”
Take your sweet sister
and dance between
“Why do the wounded
see clearly through the shadows
while privilege blinds?”
“Now, looking back,
I wonder if I somehow missed
the awaited resurrection,
or if I was taken for a fool
Do I want to feel?
Maybe another day
when my skin is thicker
and the bruises have faded.
I guess in reality,
“I used to care more;
Now I couldn’t care less.”
If you like these little poetry bits, let me know! I have plenty more I could share 🙂
Today I woke up feeling like utter dog-shit. Depressed to the point of feeling nothing and not caring about anything. I honestly don’t even care about this blog post lol, but I’m writing it anyway. I often think of this mood as the “don’t give a fuck” mood. The house is dirty? Don’t give a fuck. The cats are whining and tearing the bathroom apart? Don’t give a fuck. I’m hungry and my stomach is growling? Don’t give a fuck. I forgot to take my medicine? Don’t give a fuck. There are aliens invading earth? Don’t give a fuck.
In a sense, it is almost an enjoyable, freeing feeling. As someone who is usually extremely anxious and overthinks everything, feeling like I honestly don’t give a shit about anything is kind of relaxing and oddly calming. Of course, the downside is that if I let it, this feeling will paralyze me and I won’t do anything I need to do or live up to the responsibilities I have (even as few as they are).
Hopefully people won’t be offended by the harsh language of this post, but if they are, you can probably guess what my reaction would be today.
A couple nights ago I was feeling so confused and conflicted inside that I started to feel a little bit claustrophobic. Some of you may not understand that feeling if you’ve never had it yourself, but it is something I have experienced more than once when the emotional and rational parts of my brain just can’t seem to find common ground. It is even worse when the emotional parts of your brain are telling you different things at the same time too.
Part of my brain might be telling me that someone does care about me because they buy me stuff (they are so generous!) and make such a fuss over me whenever I see them. While another part of my brain is reminding me of the times they fucked me over and left me to cry alone. From what I understand, this is a common thing experienced by those who have been victims of abuse. There is a real trauma bond that is created between abuser and abused, which makes it so very hard to see the abuser for what they really are and to be able to keep your wits about you when they suddenly do something nice or swear yet again that they’ve “changed”.
I know I have complex PTSD and a buttload of cognitive dissonance going on in this weary head of mine. I know that the healing process is long, and realistically, never-ending in some ways. I know that none of it was my fault, even though I still struggle with feelings of guilt, insecurity, and inadequacy. I know that I have made wide and sweeping relationship changes I had to make for my own welfare, but I still find myself feeling sorrow for what could or should have been.
I am often confused and desperate to understand what is beyond understanding. And I guess I have to make peace with that. I really have no other choice.
Sorry I haven’t written much lately. I’ve been focusing on other things, like trying to get back into vlogging on YouTube and starting up my Instagram. By the way, if you aren’t already following me on both of those, feel free to check them out!
Today I’m feeling pretty bad. I’ve had a high amount of anxiety, which seems to be partly left over from the weekend. Mother’s Day is always a little stressful because of the complicated relationship I have with my mother. I did go visit her in Indiana Sunday, which was a good time, but the trip and socialization really wore me out, not to mention all the mixed feelings I have whenever I spend time with my mom.
I experienced a variety of emotions, including sadness, regret, and sorrow. And as always, I feel a deep need for love from my mother, even though I’m not sure if she can always fill that need the way I desire. The last few times I have seen her, I have also been rather saddened to see her aging. I don’t know what it is, but seeing your parents visibly aging is so depressing.
I saw my psychiatrist today and it went ok, but left me feeling really down. Perhaps because we talked about my relationship with my mom, or maybe because he seemed hurried today and didn’t have a lot of time, which is easy to convert into feeling rebuffed when you are insecure like me. I often feel guilt about taking up people’s time anyhow, so when they seem in a hurry, it makes me feel even worse. I guess that is just my lousy self-esteem. It is funny that millenials are often described as so “entitled”, but I am completely the opposite! I don’t feel entitled to much of anything, including people’s time and attention….even when I’m paying for it!
I got a new reborn doll that I absolutely love! I thought I would share the video of her in case anyone is interested in that type of thing! I feel like I really bonded with her immediately. Getting into reborn dolls has really kind of been a comforting, distracting hobby for me to get into. I think it has even helped my depression a little bit. Now, if only something would help the anxiety….