Bipolar Life- The Journal, #6

This is me. My face in the palm of my hands.

My heart hurting, feeling completely broken.

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You see, my mania is under control, it has been for years.. but the depression.. The depression is sucking the life out of me little by little.

This depression has played peek a boo for a while now, and it is pulling me down to a place I’ve not been in a long time. It’s not coming from some internal place inside of me, this is coming from circumstances beyond me, and that is pissing me off.

My typical regime includes this list of tools that have worked perfectly in the past- get control of my thoughts, affirmations, deep breathing, writing, exercise, worship, believing in myself to stay above the pit. I may be dangling, feet flailing, holding on for dear life, but I rarely drop. When I do get to my lowest of low, I start my list again until I begin to rise and reach the top.

Not tonight. Not for the last month. I have an amazing vacation coming up, and here I sit with this persistent frown and fatigue written all over my face. (Today alone I heard how tired I look, and how tired I sound) There are invisible anchors on each side of my lips holding my smile hostage. My heart has permanently broken in two- one half now lives somewhere in between my throat and chest blocking the airflow to my lungs, and the other half in my stomach, causing havoc and irritating every nerve.

I try to sleep, but the anxiety plays games at night. Just as I begin to doze off, it hits the alert button sending high frequency waves through my entire body. I can barely eat, yet the scale wouldn’t show it. What do they call it- stress induced cortisol retention? Yep, I’m sure I’m the poster child.

I want to help everyone, I really do, but ..

1) I can’t seem to help myself right now.
2) it’s not my job to fix anyone.

I”m not a cure giver. I’m not God, I’m not anything or anyone that fixes people. Once upon a time I put band aides on small cuts and scrapes. That was a very long time ago. A mother wants and wishes to take away every pain, to fix every hurt, but it’s not possible; especially when the fractured pieces are now adult pieces. The role changes over time, what was once my job has evolved.

A mother has a hope that she taught her children how to stand on their own and live a good, healthy, progressing life. We hope that our children one day look in a mirror and see the amazing person we always knew they were. We hope that our children desire joy, happiness, contentment and peace- life is much easier when we feel the comfort of each of these places. Living in the opposite is draining.

This is me. Feeling overwhelmed by the juggling of emotions I have been managing for some time now. This is me, crying tears I thought dried up long ago.. This is me so completely lost that I don’t want to look ahead, it frightens me. This is me feeling like a failure. This is me feeling alone, beaten down, insecure, and unsure.

This is also me praying. I pray for me, I pray for others, but always I give thanks. I’m here to write this journal. I am still here to feel like a failure. I am still here to help, even when I cannot fix a thing. I may feel broken but I’m still here in one piece to see another day, or to be unable to sleep another night. I’m here to experience emotions and feelings. I’m still here.

This is me… Living through each day the best I can. Some moments I’m standing tall, other moments I’m on my knees, face in my hands.

The point is… I’m still here.
#depression #fighttosurvive #bipolardisorder #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealth #anxiety #bipolar

<unedited, authentic thoughts>

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