More Than The Blues

I’ve got to quit using the term “situational” to describe an episode of what is really illness.

I do that, of course, because I’d prefer not to acknowledge the fact that I am indeed ill. I don’t want to be ill. I want this to be nothing more than a case of the blues, touched off by some rotten life circumstances, and for it to go away on its own like everybody else’s. But it is more than that, and I’m not “everybody else”.

Fortunately, I don’t tolerate depression anywhere near as well as I do its opposite number, so I called Dr. Awesomesauce this morning. As always, he was kind and sympathetic, and he promptly reminded me that he’s seen me in this place before and I’ve never failed to make it out. He also said that it doesn’t really matter how “minor” I might think the events leading up to this depression may be…’s here, and it’s not merely situational. But it WILL pass.

I know this on one level, but somehow it’s different coming from someone who’s both an objective observer and an authority figure. Especially one who knows me as well as Dr. A does. He won’t let me minimize my feelings or blame myself for getting sick, and he doesn’t just prescribe something and leave it at that. What he did was give me a good 15 minutes of therapy over the phone, which was a balm to my aching soul and gave me hope that things really will get better.

But he was also very clear that I’ve got to give myself a break from beating myself up because I don’t know where I belong in the world anymore. I didn’t realize that was what I was doing, but it is my habit after all, and by the time “This is all so stupid, I don’t know why I have to make such a big deal out of it” came out of my mouth, it was obvious even to me.

Well, hell, no wonder I’m depressed and have been thinking some very, very bad thoughts. Although I haven’t done it today. I think knowing I was going to call made me feel slightly better, like you do when you’ve been throwing up for three days straight and you finally decide to go to the ER. There were no major med tweaks, but I was instructed to go back up to what’s become my normal Zyprexa dose—funny how all this coincided with the attempt to decrease it—and stay there.

It’ll be nice if that’s all it takes to make this go away, but of course if it doesn’t, I’m supposed to call back. I’m getting better about that. But I hope it won’t be necessary.


Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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