I was sailing along in neutral space (aside from the looming Reaper of Anxiety that borders on panic)…And from out of nowhere I went SPLAT. Total despair, depression, feeling hopeless. Nothing precipitated it. There was no trigger.
It’s the cycle.
Bipolar two is a special kind of evil. Insidious. Cruel. Unrelenting.
My anxiety increases with the sudden change in mental state (this is far more than a ‘low mood’, scumbag brain is sending out some pretty negative messages and I feel too weak to tune them out). A sense of foreboding lurks. Every sound seems amplified. Every tiny thing feels insurmountable.
And then I think of R working 2 jobs, and my dad rattling on about how he worked 80 hours last week and he’s 70 years old…
I feel like such a wimp. So pathetic. I know it’s the depression and anxiety filling my head with wrong messages. Maybe things are pretty rough right now, but things that didn’t register on my radar last week are suddenly running forefront this week as viable threats, potential threats, imminate threats…
I doubt the pms dysphoria is helping the situation.
You’d think as often as Splat happens, I’d be innoculated to how abruptly it comes on. Yet still, I am floored by how fast this hit me, from out of nowhere. I feel terrified and I am not sure of what. Maybe it was my kid asking if we were going to be homeless without child support. Maybe it’s because public aid still hasn’t called back about why my benefits didn’t increase when my income dropped nearly three hundred bucks due to missing child support. Perhaps it was even worsened when my sister texted me about their own dire situation, 2 weeks of nothing to eat but ramen. Dad and stepmonster refused to help them. I get when things are tough you take care of your own, and it’s asinine when my sister asks them to buy pricey cat supplies or household items. But for a father to not even offer up a package of meat to help feed his daughter and grandson…
I tossed them a four pound back of hamburger. I didn’t have it to spare, really, but family helps family. I will not become my father, stockpiling for my own sake, while my mom and sis and nephew go hungry. No matter how wigged out my brain is, I have kindness in my heart. I like to think (even naively) that karma comes around and one day when I or Spook need a hand, my sis and them will be willing to return the favor if they can. No way could I not do something, minor as it was. Not who I am.
Right now, who I am, is a woman feeling like emotional doomsday has arrived and every nerve ending is in flames and the Grim Reaper is at my door…It’s the disorders, but at the moment..
The disorders are kind of in control. It’s terrifying and yet it’s my reality. Lather, rinse, repeat.
“You’re fine.” says R.
“How are mood swings a disability?” said someone on a tv show.
“Deadbeats on food stamps and disability are taking all my money in taxes.” This, from my wonderful father.
I WANT to be fine.
But no amount of their guilt, denial, put downs- is going to change the fact that my brain is off kilter and it is disabling.
It’s scary times for those of us who have disabling disorders and need our disability income, our Medicare, our Medicaid, our prescription plans…Scary, hell, it’s horrifying. Maybe some of my anxiety and panic is warranted.
Does not explain how I went from feeling semi decent to suddenly feeling hopeless so abruptly. That’s all bipolar. The gift that keeps on taking. Like a vulture feasting on roadkill, this disorder is going to pick my bones clean one day.