Daily Archives: June 26, 2012
Tuesday…. Afternooon…. Sorry just singing The Moody Blues I thought of it as soon as I put Tuesday up there Just popped right into my head out of nowhere. Good tune. Yes ..it is Tuesday and its Afternoon, whether it still qualifies as mid-afternoon well…. we could probably find a way to make it … Continue reading
Seriously, am I the only one that does this? It makes me feel like I am possessed or something!
I have walked many religious paths. However, I was baptized and raised Roman Catholic. A couple of years ago, we decided to get back into the church because we wanted to be God Parents to my nephew. And I just can’t do it. I get too emotional. I just want to cry. Seriously. Tears in the eyes, lump in the throat, whole 9 yards. I don’t even feel comfortable with the shaking hands and offering peace to the people who you sit around. Emotionally it is all just too much for me. And, I don’t understand why! And it’s not like I’m sad or depressed or anything. I just get this overwhelming urge to cry… like a cleansing cry. I don’t know. Anyone else hear of this? Or am I the only one this odd?
So, the other day at our family reunion, my dad started asking me about my blogs…. He wants to read them. He hears everyone talking about them, and wants to read. I’m a little undecided about this. I am happy that he is interested, don’t get me wrong. But at the same time, I don’t want him to see the shit that goes on in my mind. Ya know? But at the same time, I DO want him to see the shit that goes on in my head.
I mean, I am pretty honest in my blogs. I don’t beat around the bush. Everything I say is the way it really is. And sometimes, that is scary.
Really, my blogs are my therapy. I’ve got to purge myself of this stuff. It seems like when you need someone to listen, no one is there. And I am not the type of person to beg for attention… I will just move along and stuff the hurt deeper inside, only to find it resurface later in time…
There’s this phase of existence since I’ve been medicated that I cannot decide if it’s the medicine’s fault, or depression’s fault, or both. I get a couple of days, or maybe a week or two, where I’m absolutely zombie dragging for the morning, and maybe part of the afternoon as well. I can still get things done, but I’m fuzzy and clumsy. I’m super-sleepy and a bit tired too, and there’s a part of my brain murmuring how nice it would be to go back to sleep, take a nap, something. It’s good on paper, but in practice? I have never gotten on with naps.
Even as a kid, I’d avoid naptime like the plague. I couldn’t get to sleep, or I’d try to convince my mother time had passed by wandering out stretching and yawning (five minutes after being put down, so it didn’t really work). When I got to school and there was mando naptime, I started staying up until 4am and getting up at 6am. That’s… that’s not really ideal for a six year old, yo. And then I’d catch myself occasionally passing out after school to make up for the lack, thereby perpetuating the not-good sleep pattern. Moving to another state and another school that didn’t have naptime was fantastic, because it enabled me to reset to better sleeping patterns (and got me away from a fucking horrible babysitter who also forced naptimes so she could sit on her lazy ass watching TV).
I managed to get by without any real sleep issues until I got to high school. My health and energy levels dropped to nothing, and sleep was not my friend. Insomnia would keep me up all night, I’d pass out in class, and eventually resorted to a lot of pill-popping to try and keep myself vaguely alert and out of trouble (most teenagers have some problems because their body clock is out of whack; mine was pretty darn severe).
Then there was the Air Force, and shift working hell. I actually love working mids or nights, but days were murder. I’d have to get up around 3 in the morning to be vaguely safe to get to work for 6:30am, then couldn’t get to sleep until after midnight. I had night terrors, I popped many a pill, I drank myself stupid in the hopes of passing out. If I took a nap on purpose or accident, I would wake up feeling even worse than usual (and default was horrible). I pointed out the rotation was the worst possible one for healthy employees (every eight weeks; it takes a body eight weeks to get used to a sleep pattern), and got told to be grateful that it was that stretched out. I begged to stay on mids or nights for the sake of my health, and was resoundingly shot down. But that’s the military for you – one is supposed to shut up and color.
While naps aren’t quite as horrible now as they used to be pre-child (which reset my probable endometriosis to a more reasonable point), I still tend to feel pretty crappy after them. So while it might reset the grog factor to take a nap some day, I’m not completely sure about it either. It worked once, but not the next time. I shouldn’t be in any sort of sleep deficit, because unlike days of yore, I have well established bed and rising time; this is a vital part of good mental health, especially for those of us with bipolar. It feels dicey to mess with that, but the temptation is surely there as long as this grog cloud hangs around.
I just read a post about how some people make it all about them like they have it worse than anyone else…
and I wondered if that’s what people think of me.
Face it, depression is an inherently selfish, self centered illness. Your entire life revolves around your symptoms and emotions. If you feel like the world is crashing, it’s hard to paste on the happy face and fake it with lies.
It’s easy to get caught up in that. Not like your problems are any worse than those of anyone else. But, you’re trapped in your own mental space and you lack the capacity to think outside that box, let alone consider that, so it seems like you care only about yourself. The destruction wreaked by depression is multi layered.
I spend a lot of time being introspective. I used to lack the emotional intelligence to do thagt, so I am sort of proud that I have grown as a person. I guess sometimes, I read something or hear something, and while technically it is not directed at me, I am humble enough to see myself in it and wonder…AM I LIKE THAT?
Sadly, I know I can come off that way.
Which is why I really don’t discuss my mental shit outside this blog and with Bex. No one wants to hear it, I am well aware of this, but I also know that I would have given anything for all those years to know I’m not alone in how I feel, so I share my struggles in hopes of letting even just one other soul know…you are not alone.
If it reeks of self absorption…
Then I apologize.