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[whisky-t-fox]

Depression is a Funny Sad Horrible  Thing

Depression is a thief In the night In the morning In the afternoon Who looks you boldly in the eye as it  Robs you

Depression is Being bound by spider silk cords In a world that tells you Just think happy thoughts You want to be happy But how can you be happy When your brain won't believe those Happy thoughts?

Depression is Laying in bed Listening to the rain Knowing you need to get up But feeling wretchedly Poetic Sad Pathetic

Depression is  Being bound by chains In a world that Doesn't like dealing with negative emotions So you Smile Smile Smile To keep others at ease And comfortable  And around

Depression is forgetting to Eat Sleep Shower Smile

Depression is the  Worry Concern Annoyance In the Eyes  Face Voice  Of those you love

Depression makes you face the Most painful of truths Most painful of lies And not being able to tell Which Is Which

Depression is Deeply Deeply Deeply Unfair

And it doesn't care.

[whisky-t-fox]

Comfortable in Chaos

I have heard it said time and time again one of the struggles of learning to live with and overcoming mental illness is that your brain fights back. This seems counterintuitive (I want to get better → I am my brain/my brain is me → my brain should want to get better), but what it comes down to is our brains like their comfort zone. They like pattern and repetition, routine and familiarity. Your brain will always rebel, in some way or another, any time it is made to face even anticipated and welcome changes: a new job, moving to a new home, a vacation in a foreign country, etc.

I am manic depressive (bipolar II disorder). For 17 years, more than half my life, I went undiagnosed. During that time, I learned how to get through my life. I learned to navigate the months and months of depression aka How to Fake Being at Least Moderately Okay. 

I learned how to hide that I hadn’t showered in a week and didn’t know when the last time I had brushed my teeth. Hide that I frequently forget to eat dinner until it was so late that ordering McDonald’s from Uber Eats seemed like my only option. Hide that my bedroom was full of takeout bags, empty soda cans, and a mountain of dirty laundry taking up half my queen-sized bed. Hide that I spent my nights and weekends glued to my laptop and tv. Recycling through the same excuses to back out of dinners and parties with friends; not telling anyone I didn’t end up going to the concerts/event, even though I had already bought my ticket. Hide the fact I kept spending and buying and hoarding to try and make that ache feel a little bit better for at least a little while.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I would get this massive upswing for about a week. I could never anticipate my upswings – I didn’t even really realize that’s what they were. I just knew that every once in a while I was a tornado of energy – creative ideas just came pouring from my head, I wanted to change my life right now (start exercising or move to another country or cut all my hair off or buy a whole new wardrobe), my libido would be through the roof and there were days I would have to take care of that five, six, seven times a day, I would forget to eat and then eat my weight in sugary, high calorie foods, and I would forego sleeping – easily staying awake for over 36 hours straight and not feeling even a little bit tired. 

Then the rollercoaster would plunge back down.

Since finally being believed and finally being accurately diagnosed a few months ago, it has been a battle of finding the right dosages and the right cocktail. It has also been a battle of wills. Most days I win but some days I lose. I can tell myself what I said above all day – it’s just my brain wanting to stay in its comfort zone; this is normal; this is natural – but the problem with living with manic depression for over half my life is: my comfort zone is chaos.