So I disappeared again. This past month has been a rough one. I wouldn’t say I went into an extreme depression but it was definitely worse than it’s been in a while. I was stuck in bed with not a care to do anything productive.
Which is was a complete 180 from January. I was so productive and so creative that I accomplished a lot of projects I had been putting off for months. I finally got my art room set up. I set up an Etsy shop. I finally sent my music off to get properly mixed by a professional. I was really proud of myself.
However, near the end of January I could feel it coming. I got tired easier. I was making more excuses not to do things. That little voice in the back of my head pushing me to get things done started to become weaker and weaker.
And suddenly I was in a full-on depression. I was sleeping probably 12 hours a day. I only left my bed for food and the few hours of work I have each day. I started reading romance novels. (I only read romance novels when I’m REALLY depressed.) I was just doing minimum when it came to getting ready for the day. And no, absolutely no laundry was done.
It’s a weird experience being in a depression. You have these really lucid moments where you go, “Huh, I’m in a depression. I should probably do something about this. (squeezing brain to muster up energy to care) Nah, maybe it’ll work tomorrow.”
Like I know I get nothing done when I’m depressed. I don’t want to be depressed. I didn’t ask for it. There’s so much I need and want to get done that I promise you I didn’t ask for depression to be dropped on my mind’s doorstep.
But depression is a part of being bipolar. And so when it comes I just have to take that ride.
I used to beat myself up over the fact that I got depressed. Which let me tell you makes getting out of my depressive state 10 times harder.
I’ve learned that you got to love yourself at your best times and worst times.
(in sickness and in health)
I actually think of my depressive states as a “vacation” of sorts. Like my “will-to-do-anything” decided to take a trip to the Bahamas. And when my “will” decides to come back it’s usually got a tan and that glow of having the best time of it’s life.
Although this time round my “will” has been coming back slowly, like it’s got a bit of jet lag.
I still feel depressed. I don’t think I’m officially out of it, but I am doing better. I’m just mildly depressed rather than the sink-into-my-dark-cave/bedroom depressed.
For example, did I want to write this post today? No. Did I? Yes. See, my “will” is becoming stronger.
I even ran some much needed errands today.
So I’m sorry I left you. It wasn’t you, it was me. I know I want to say it won’t happen again but it probably will.
#Itsthebipolarlife #hatingit #lovingit