Depression is the often overlooked facet of my psyche. I’m usually in so much danger of impending mania that depression never has a chance. Make no mistake though. It is by far the most fearsome feature of my mental illness. Mania is easily identifiable and familiar. Depression for me is far more sinister and difficult. The fact that it doesn’t come around much is both a blessing and a curse.
There’s this idea that Bipolar One folks like me only really have to deal with mania. Nothing could be further from the reality. The real killer with bipolar disorder regardless of subtype is the abrupt shifts and rapid cycling between moods. Which are inevitably followed by profound crashes into the most agonizing pit of profound despair and despondency one can possibly imagine.
Admittedly, It doesn’t happen much. Anxiety? Agitation? Sure. But genuine depression in me takes just the right alignment of the stars. I’m usually busy (if I’m unmedicated) plugging away with some awesome plan or obsessive ritual of study or analysis.
When I’m depressed, there is no plan or ritual or routine. I’m just DEPRESSED. AS FUCK. Like sleeping eighteen hours a day depressed. Like avoiding light, human contact, food, pretty much just living off my own insides as I slowly but surely wither away. I’ve been a cutter in the past, but that was more of a pseudo-masochistic/ pushing my threshold type of thing. Never done that kind of stuff in my throes of total fucking darkness. If I had the energy I might. But while I’m never honestly suicidal, I just lose the will to keep being. No plans, no sharp objects or hazards. Just a broken shell of a man slowly starving.
I suppose it’s extremely fortunate this doesn’t happen much. However, conversely I wonder if it was more regular, then might I be more adept at dealing with it? I really don’t know. All I know is that once in a while I feel like what the crazymeds.us guy would call whale shit at the bottom of the ocean.
So…. I take my pills. Go to appointments. Get blood draws. See a therapist, and try to come to a better understanding of why I am the way I am. I’m not as intense as I used to be. There was a time when I had a picture of the kevorkian machine as a desktop wallpaper. Honestly that was probably just me being a punk-ass kid. Still, it’s easy to forget everything you’ve learned and just break over the same stupid shit.
I’m certain I need Psych drugs to live a normal life. I’ve resigned myself to a life sentence. However, these treatments are not enough in and of themselves. Mind over matter seems like a tired old folks saying but it’s totally valid. I get through each day by reminding myself that the drugs and the doctors are not going to do it for me.
So, um… yeah.