Without resistance in all four directions,
content with whatever you get,
enduring troubles with no dismay,
like a rhinoceros.
This illustrates it pretty well: rapid cycling and mixed states as waves I suppose that I used to enjoy the happy highs, but I can’t now. I’m just … wary of myself and unhappy. White knuckling. Before, I’d tell people that I didn’t want to talk about what was bugging me, because it was all too affected by whatever mood I was in. I presumed rage and agitation came from fear.
Last time I saw her, my psychiatrist said that my cptsd is in full remission. I feel sort of proud of that.
I wrote that a few days ago and kept failing to resume it, because thinking and writing just wasn’t happening. Then the mixed episode stopped and went right back down to depression. 15 months of it so far.
I don’t feel like writing now either, but I said I’d track this crap.