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| Kiss me hard before you go |
Trigger warning: just stop reading this stupid post.
The summer solstice was June 21st this year. Every year roughly two weeks afterward my mood becomes very unstable. This year is no different. I think it's all tied to circadian rhythms as to whether it's the most or least sunlight of the year. I typically have extreme depression in January after the winter solstice. July is different. It's close to a mixed state. It's a dangerous time. Bouncing up and down.
In addition to it being a extremely annoying thing to see coming, there's also the annoyance of no one seeming to believe it's a real thing. It's real people. It's real. It's fucking real. So to my counselors and pdoc... please kindly go to hell with your quizzical looks. And what can only be a smug skepticism behind that look. It's real to my mom, her sister, and her brother. They themselves barely believe it no matter how many times I insist it's not about their birthdays and getting older (they were all born in July).
What I don't get is that my pdoc says it's a good idea to keep using my light box. Like, there's too much sunlight out there. That's the problem. Why should I expose myself to more light. But I'm doing it anyways.
I'm often suicidal during this time, make medication changes, and self-medicate during this time. July of 2004 I was smoking weed regularly and stopped taking Paxil without telling anyone. I ended up alone in a park, under a tree canopy, sobbing in the rain. With a knife. Luckily a knife not worth shit. But I can still see the scars where I cut myself... barely drawing blood.
Last July I asked my pdoc for a medication at a dose I knew was too high. Sent me into dangerous hypomania. Not sleeping. Weird thoughts. Journaling weird shit. Akathisia.
This July? Giving up the sobriety efforts more or less. Risky impulsive behavior. Lottery tickets and scratch-offs. Waking up at weird times. More social media involvement. No patience. Withdrawal from my family. Coldness followed by sudden closeness. Keep bouncing.
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