It has been two solid days of up and down. My mood is up, my mood is middle, my mood is down. Rinse, lather, repeat.
They say look for triggers in the event it’s not my mood but my personality that is being triggered by things that affect my mood.
Well, if I have a low when people visit, does it not stand to reason it would be that way every time if it were a common trigger? I don’t entirely buy into bullshit psychology where everything we do is our own fault. By that way of thinking, compassion would be dead and buried. “Oh, John got hit by a bus? Well, in all fairness, he made the CHOICE to go outside.”
Of course, had he not gone outside, then that too would have been his fault for not being social.
Society is obsessed with the blame game because it can’t accept that bad things happen for no good reason and not every bad situation has a happy ending where everyone learns a valuable lesson.Some stuff is just tragic and sucks.
Like mental illness. Let me blame my parents and their junk dna. Let me blame it on an anti biotic my mom took while pregnant. Or because it runs in my dad;s family line.
But that’s factors that come to a conclusion, an explanation. It is no one’s fault. Illnesses happen.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow. Without someone to blame and something to rage against, you’re left with the utter hollowness of knowing there is nothing you can do to change the fact you’re mentally ill. The psycho babble life coach rah rah rah squad can spew what they consider wisdom about life is what you make it, only you can change things, blah blah blah. Their ignorance shows because I doubt there’s one single person with mental illness who wouldnt flick the switch if they could to just think clearly and consistently. To let on that it’s that easy is borderline cruel, making people think it’s possible. It’s not.Some people recover, some stabilize, some sublimate…
and some of us spend our entire lives on the mood swing, desperately reaching for the sky, never quite touching it. That’s where I am today. I am down. I am out of bed and dressed anyway. I am going about my life. But the fact that everything is covered in the dark gauze of depressive distorted thought is never far from my mind. Nor are the tormenting self flogging thoughts that go along with it.
I should be stronger. I should be tougher. I should feel this way. I should want that.
But I don’t.