Sunday, February 27, 2011



 February was brutal. The snow and long gray days kept my fragile state in the forefront of my mind. I've gone two weeks without posting mostly because I am keenly aware, as most depressives are, that no one wants to hear that nothing has changed; I am still depressed and unable to be constructive or productive with my time. "Just stop!," my closest tell me as they shut the door behind them leaving me alone with my pain.

 I am fragile. I do not feel the gathering strength that I long for. I feel dead inside. Not even spring will melt this icy coldness, that much I know. 

This must be my fire, burning off the impurities of my soul. This is a test of strength and fortitude. I'm not going anywhere. I have someone who needs me in spite of my illness. I am grateful for this and tell myself every day not to let him down. Within my bitter pain there is a sweetness.

I yell at myself  like a mean man yells at a dog. I beat myself up for not creating, for not moving my body. I have to face my failures at the end of everyday. I sleep a restless, nightmarish sleep.

 No one wants to hear a different tune come from myself more than me.





Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Uncomfortable Peace~



Paranoia is something that I have grown accustomed to. When I walk down the street, when I can make it out the door, I am followed by acute anxiety. "People are judging me" rushes and swirls all around me, sapping my will and taking my breath away. I scream inside as I stand on the corner waiting for the light to change. I look down, arms crossed, tears welling and make my way across the street. 

In a car I cringe at stop lights. All my thoughts are replaced with images of destruction and death. My body braces for impact, feet mashed into the floor. I shake my head, sing and smoke. I am exhausted when we get there. I don't drive these days.

At home I am pinned to the bed, crippled by anxiety and a deep sense that I must die because I am broken.

Now, I take seven pills a day, plus one before I go out the door.  The pills allow me to get up out of bed and put one foot in front of the other.The pills help me get dressed without being so critical that I won't get dressed at all. For now, the pills keep me pushing forward.  For the last month I have not experienced anxiety on that level. I have also been mostly free of the familiar ups and downs. No one knows why the pills work, they just do.

When I wasn't looking peace came quietly like a cat and curled itself upon my lap. When I wasn't looking love found me and wrapped itself like a blanket around my shoulders. I dream that I could sit hear like this and never have to face the world again. It has taken so long to get here.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Nothing More Than Feelings



Emotional extremes is one of the signatures of both bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder; cold and withdrawing one minute or hot and "in your face" the next. You could say that I received a double dose of crazy. For sometime, at least in my youth, this quality made me interesting to others, but like many things from back then this quality has not stood the test of time. Now it gets in my way and makes me a victim of my own feelings. 
For years I thought that I would outgrow my hot headed ways. I've worked hard in therapy to gain some mastery over myself and my emotions, but to no avail. Instead, I've watched in horror as my displays have become more out of control, forcing my world to become smaller and smaller. The only respite I have found is to withdraw from people and situations that trigger such events-and that is pretty much everyone and any situation.
These episodes are usually brought on by stress or drama outside of myself. I have managed, in this last year, to reduce these things in my life by 99%. I don't work. I don't socialize. At this time, I can not stand to be tested. 
My current status really blows my mind. I mean this is not what I ever imagined for myself at 37. Just like always though, there is a tiny flame of faith that keeps me going. In my darkest depressions- somehow my pilot light is not extinguished. I pause to wonder at the plan that God has laid out for me. Something in me knows that I am going to be okay. 
I am grateful for this time, as ugly as it looks from the outside. As I sit here, not blowing up at anyone, I feel 
an uncomfortable peace. I wear it like a scratchy wool sweater. It's the first time in my life that I haven't scratched for survival. I'm curious to see what effect this has on my outrageous feelings.
One thing I know: a person can deny their feelings and suffer or travel through them and find their truth. I hope to find my truth.