Here it comes again: that unsettling, familiar shift signifying depression. As a bipolar I’ve gotten to the point where I can feel the shift between mania and depression, and it makes me irritable and aggravated. It started a little bit during my first camping trip of the summer this weekend, looming in the back of my mind, made better only by yoga, incense, plenty of hikes and cold swims, and great friends all inflicted with various mental disorders who can make me laugh like no other. But when I finally returned home, the past two days I have known it is here.
Since I have Bipolar II disorder, for me the depression is massively noticeable (as if it wouldn’t be anyway) and hits me like a cab driver slowly crushing me under tire during noon cramp traffic in New York Time Square. Or something like that.
It was even difficult to get to writing this.
It’s not that I don’t want to do all the things I love, I do want to do ALL the things… I just can’t seem to gather up the motivation to do them. I keep thinking about how I want to read, finish my crystal jewelry (ohmigosh we found a PIT of CRYSTALS during our hiking trip and it was excellent), I want to write my book some more plus other stories, and I want to study my phytochemistry lessons… But all I end up doing is lying around on the couch, just getting to the house cleaning, and hardly even making my own food.
I mean I’m doing stuff… But I want to do other stuff. At least there’s always Gilmore Girls on Netflix… That has been keeping me company.
Soon, however, I will be reaching for my passion flower pills, ready to be settled, content and not all bleh-bloo-blop-bloop.
Also I wish to highlight that having depression does not infer that I am sad. I genuinely do not feel sad, just unmotivated and unable to get up to do the things I usually can’t wait to do. Bleh.