I have had enough of this.
When you get in the car, turn on the radio, and burst into tears during Celine Dion’s rendition of “O Holy Night”, you know you need help. So it’s a damn good thing that six of my nearest and dearest friends, including Will, talked me into calling Dr. Awesomesauce’s office this morning.
True to form, he called me back right away and as I expected, put me back on Celexa. I really didn’t want to restart it, but as he reminded me, “this is what happened the last time and we’re not going through it again.” (Wait a minute—who’s “WE”??) So now I’m taking a tiny 5 mg dose that’s so sub-therapeutic it’s not even funny, but it may just be enough to pull me away from the South Pole without pushing me too far northward.
If I had to choose between places though, I’d much rather be at the opposite pole, thankyouverymuch. Not to put too fine a point on things, but this depression is sucking the life out of me and I want to be done with it a week ago. I can tolerate hypo/mania MUCH longer than I can being on this end of the spectrum…..mainly because I actually like being ten feet tall and bulletproof, even though my family and friends don’t see the charm in it.
What gets me is the breakneck speed with which I’ve whipsawed from mania to depression this time. I had maybe two whole days of normal before things started heading south, which gave me NO time to get my bearings and made this downer all the worse. I’m not considering the “S-word”; I haven’t reached the edge of the abyss, but I can see it from here and this is no time to get into that kind of stinkin’ thinkin’. What I am is tired—tired of being at the mercy of whatever gods are in charge of peoples’ moods. Tired of taking pills that sometimes work and sometimes don’t. And I am really, REALLY tired of battling bipolar disorder. Period.
I’m supposed to be stronger than this. I’ve been told that my whole life. Suck it up, push through it, put your big-girl panties on, life’s tough, get a helmet, stop thinking that way, and for God’s sake DON’T BE NEGATIVE. Which begs the question: Does anybody respond positively to that? Ever??
You know what I think? I think people say those things because they don’t know what else to say. Most of them mean well, and under ordinary circumstances a gently planted boot in a strategic place is a good thing. But with someone who is truly depressed, it tends to have the opposite effect—you feel like you’re being piled on when you least need the burden of others’ expectations. And if you’re at all like me, being directed to “buck up” is beyond frustrating, because absolutely everything is a struggle and you just don’t have that kind of energy.
It’s only Monday and I’m already fighting the desire to postpone Thanksgiving and call in sick for the upcoming weekend. Between my depression and the very busy week that lies ahead of me, the idea of cooking, cleaning, working, and having to be sociable is exhausting.
Now, if I were ill with pneumonia or the flu, I wouldn’t hesitate. But because it’s a holiday—and because what ails me is something nobody can “see”—I’m going to do exactly what non-mentally ill people do and make the best of things. It’ll be OK. Really. I’m being treated, and my mood might improve enough by Thanksgiving that I can honestly give thanks.
In the meantime, I think I’ll take a little cheese with that whine, and try to de-stress a bit before I have to throw myself into this for real. Thanks for listening.