Feed the cats, rinse the cans and lids, put them in the recycling. Easy. But in depression, the cans simply get tossed into the sink.
Bedtime. Dry my nose, tear the paper off a Breathe-Rite, pull off the adhesive tab covers. Throw the paper and the two little tab strips away in the wastebasket beside the bureau. But now I look at the bureau and there are four sets of papers and tabs there in a neat pile, never thrown away.
Hungry. Just a few days ago, I made myself a hamburger on toast and a bowl of Brussels sprouts. That meal is delicious and takes about 20-25 minutes to make. But now, as depression deepens, that’s too much time. Make a can of Campbell’s bean soup. Five minutes. Too long. Frappucino. Open the top and drink… 15 empty bottles on the desk.
Sleep. Get up. Frappucino. Take morning meds. Check regular websites. Eventually, eat something. Sleepy. Back to bed. Sleep three or four more hours.
Tiny pieces breaking loose and swirling into darkness. Teeth unbrushed. Hair unwashed. Food rotting in the fridge. The tiny swirling pieces fill my head and shout in tiny voices that they need attention.
NEED HELP. Made appointment with psychiatrist. Good move. One good move. But I can’t wait that long. I need answers now.
Why? Bipolar disorder, silly. Breaking through meds that have worked fairly well for months. But I don’t have time for this. I have work to do. I have work to do.
And it builds up, day by day. More things, large and small, left undone. More mind noise. More where do I start? More never starting. More guilt. More lethargy.
Do something, Marcia. Something. Anything. That’s the answer. Five minutes. One minute. One tiny piece. One empty Frappucino bottle put in the recycling bin. A wastebasket emptied. A cat food can rinsed. One piece of mail opened. Tiny pieces that fell into the darkness, rescued and put back in place.
I can do that. All it takes is standing up and taking a step. That’s the big decision. Not deciding what do to. Not finding my way through the dark blizzard of pieces, large and small. All it takes is to get moving, then do the first thing I see. It’s amazing how difficult that is.
Stand up.
Just stand up.
Just stand up!
I so understand. Am battling a very bad depression right now. Hope u r doing well now. Bipolar is hell.
Your story is so difficult to read, so depressing to know because I do know. The slow progress of medications, lack of sleep, guilt about the undone, guilt about being sick, slogs on through the hours. Yet it feels so incredible to have someone else out there who knows . . . just knows . . . what it’s like. Thank you.