Depression hurts. Bipolar Disorder sucks.
Some of you know, I very recently spent some time in the local psych ward. I don't really feel like saying too much about it, other than that I went in there voluntarily, I got out voluntarily after two days, and I didn't get a whole lot of out of it (who would, after two days?) except some awesome new friends. It's not a big secret that I want to keep to myself, because as I've said before, I've made it my personal ambition to help dispel the stigma surrounding mental illness, but there's just not a whole lot to say. I did not make any suicide attempts, as I have done many times in the past, nor did I cause harm to anyone else (or feel like it). So that's all I'm going to say about that.
Anyway, my point for telling you at all is, I'm struggling lately. I do not feel as if my disease is being managed well at the moment, the way it had been for a good solid few years. I credit my doctor for that. He may not be the sweetest, kindest soul in the world, but he knows his pharmaceuticals.
So we have been playing around with las drogas lately, to get me "stable" again. I put that word in quotes because with bipolar disorder, it's only a fleeting illusion. He increased my Effexor to double the maximum dose, which put the military pharmacists in a bit of a tizzy at first, but the psych ward doctor told me that it was a good dosage, one that should work well for me. I don't feel it has settled me down yet, though.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to hurt myself. After years of pain, dealing with my son's death on top of many previous hurts in my younger life, I am finally at a place in my life where I actually want to be alive. I want to grow old with my husband, I want to see my children grow up and give me grandchildren, I want ... to live. Really live.
But the disease is present within me, and as far as anyone can say, it always will be. I try not to think about the fact that I will be on brain chemistry-altering medication for the rest of my life, because, well, that's depressing in and of itself! It's self-limiting, for me. I try just to be grateful that these medications do exist for people like myself, and know that without them, I would be a person I don't want to know.
I just wish I could reach a point of contentment within my heart, when I should be able to feel what I really want to feel: happy. There are sucky things about my life, sure, but aren't there about any life? For the most part, though, I am leading an extraordinairily blissful existence, with a family I would die for, and so many more blessings. But my heart hurts. Literally. I can physically feel the deep pain in my chest, like the bottom has fallen out of me, and all that's left are the ragged edges from a wound that is trying to heal but can't. In short, it's Teh Suck.
Most of the time, the meds work like they are supposed to, and I am my normal happy-happy-joy-joy self, all smiles, dancing around, singing, loving life, having fun... but when those chemicals inside me are all used up, and it's time for more, I can feel that it's time without looking at the clock. I can feel that raggedy-edged wound once again, the one that makes me want to sob without being able. I'm not trying to wax poetic here, I'm just trying to explain to those of you who might not be unfortunate enough to know for yourselves, how it feels right now.
It feels... well, bipolar. Manic-depressive. Uppity-downity-uppity-UP-UP-down-down-down-very-down. And the downs, they hurt. Inside my chest. Ripping pain.
Thank God, I am not at the "I can't take it any more" point.
But I don't want to get there... because I want to be here.
Thanks for reading, if you did. I just really needed to get this out, lately.
Fin.
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