Written 3 weeks ago. This was sitting in my drafts because I didn’t finish but hey, i’ll share and continue when I am inspired to. That’s what art is, you cant just create because you can create, you must be inspired to create. All my work was done through inspiration.
This is why when I am told to monetize my blog I say; I do not wish to write on demand. Writing is an art, it’s expression and therefore must be inspired.
I recently joined this Bipolar 1 and 2 support group on Facebook. It’s been good seeing that there are many other people out there going through the same things I go through and that I am not alone, that I am not making this up. It’s good to receive empathy and compassion from others who know exactly what I go through. Now that I am predominantly manic with just a few depressive bouts I feel for those who are in the depressive phase of bipolar disorder. My friends it is not easy. It is hard, very very hard. I am writing this morning to try and put into words how it feels. I will write individual lines to try and capture what severe depression and suicidal ideations feel like to those experiencing it. I am sharing in the hope that you, you ‘healthier’ person can open your heart and mind to being a little more understanding and show some compassion to those suffering.
I will highlight these and more in my upcoming book; Depression, Anxiety and Mania: Talking back to the Voice(s)
- Insomnia and sleep anxiety: During the depressive phase I can’t sleep at nights without my anti-psychotic medication because I am tense and worried about waking up to this perpetual pain yet another day. I am worried about having to get up, get out and pretend like I am ok to appease everyone else. Every time I manage to doze off, I bolt up, heart pounding like drums in my ear, my breathe caught in my chest, my chest aches and I am lost. So lost. I cry, I roll off the bed, lay flat on the cold floor, it’s grounding. I am still alive. It numbs the pain a little. I grab my Bible; 1Peter 5:7 “Cast all your cares upon me, for I care for you”. I close my eyes and pray in earnest.
“God, please. I f you are still there, please, please take this pain away. Please. I can’t do it anymore. I am so tired. So, so tired. Please just give me peace. Do it for me, so that I don’t have to do it. Give me cancer, everybody is dying from cancer these days. Let me get hit by a speeding car, let an old tree fall on me, something . Please. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I am trying. I really am. And yet, my best is still not enough. Please God.”
- I am worried about the fact that I will need to shower, do my hair, choose clothes and make breakfast, all of which I seem to have forgotten how to do properly. I burn eggs, I neglect some body part while showering, I just put some oil in my hair and leave it exactly as is. I try everything in my closet, cry a little when I can’t decide on two things that look decent enough and then just choose a black yoga pants and t-shirt with the same shoes and socks I have been wearing all week.
2. General Anxiety: Ok, I managed to get up and get out. I look in the mirror and practice my smile and courtesies;
“Hey ____! How are you? Your hair looks really nice. Who did it? Wow! I need to try that sometime. *Smile* *Hug person* I’ll see you around love. I gotta run. Pretty busy day ahead. See ya”
Busy? My only task for the day is to attend that meeting from 1:30 – 4pm. Listen carefully, take notes and ask at least one question so no one gets suspicious. “Imani, you’re up.”
Me? Imani? What? Who are these people looking at? Kmt. I am sure I told my supervisor that I did not work on anything this past week before the meeting. Why would he call on me in front of everyone to present. What the fuck am I to present on? “Imani, what did you work on this past week?” “Pardon?” Is this man for real? Why would he do this? I swear to God, this is an asshole move. You little piece of shit. I confided in you about not being well, about how I was just recently diagnosed, how I am on new medication that we; my doctor and I are working on finding the right dosage. I told you that it has been making me sleep in the daytime, I told this man that it has been making me confused, unable to concentrate and just generally foggy. I have not been able to read or focus on anything for more than 2 minutes. How was I suppose to get work done??? Sighs. Dick move. You insensitive asshole.
I stand up, move to the front of the room, “Well, I don’t have a presentation as I didn’t get to work on anything this week. I will just recap the last thing I worked on and what my project intentions are for the coming week.”
3. Social Anxiety: Why oh why do people talk to me, I avoid eye contact, I look everywhere but at people, I look a mess, I walk with lots of books, I walk fast. Doesn’t that imply the whole “I’m busy look” I mean, that’s my fail safe. I thought it was foolproof but naw, you have that one or two people that you cannot hide from. They won’t let you walk away without talking to you. lol. I
I always have an excuse as to why I can’t attend social events. When I do attend I show up as late as possible that way, everyone is toon engaged to bother talking to you or pull you into any flock and you can sit by yourself away from everyone else. Haha! It works. I share some stories in my book.
4. The Voice(s) : The bloody voice(s). As soon as I hear them I know I am spiralling in a downward direction. It’s that big dip on the rollercoaster, that sudden dive on the water slide. It’s that free fall off a cliff when you are dreaming and your heart starts racing and you fall “boom”! It’s overwhelming to say the least. Then you hear that pessimistic bastard pipe up “Imani, why don’t you just give up and let someone more enthusiastic and competent do the job” “You suck at this, this is not what you want to do, you are basically a imposter! A fraud”
To be continued…