As my depression has spiraled into the lowest point it’s been in quite some time my immune system has gone tumbling down with it. So, on top of feeling emotionally defeated, I have a scratchy throat, body aches and the sniffles. Totally how I want to spend my existence right now. You know, I’m being mindful just living in the moment and stuff. The achy, shitty moment where I can’t remember where I hit the Sleeping Beauty button that allows me to wait for things to get better.
Last night I spent having a very loud conversation with myself (in my thick head, where I spend most of my time since all of the things I feel like responding to socially are full of some kind of passive aggressive poison and that’s pretty counter productive, but so is being isolated from other people) full of rage for not being in control of huge chunky life situations I’ve recently encountered. Though I know I’m not being realistic here feeling as though I should be able to control everything, I kind of wallowed in my swamp of an emotional state. Wondered if this life is hell. Pondered why anyone would have any sympathy for someone whose always depressed and has been depressed for an extended period of time. Recently (and by recently I mean two days ago) I had a friend I haven’t spoken with in a while ask me why I don’t go see a counselor in response to me saying I’m pretty depressed at the moment but happy with work (you know, small talk, “Hey Bipolar Barbie how are you?” “Fine” is the socially acceptable answer you should give by the way). At that moment in time I decided I was done responding to pretty much all messages and e-mails on a social level and don’t really care if I have any friends anymore. Rofl. Look at me using internet slang like “rofl” in my blog. Insanity.
I usually equate situations like this (though I haven’t personally had one of these in years) to how if someone were to say they were having a hard time in chemo or that they had a cancer relapse that the out-pour of support and community candle vigils would be epic. Mental illness? Well, just the term sounds bad in itself. Mental health issues? Sounds pretty pathetic too. Depression? An overused tossed around term for general sadness unless you’ve had or have it. So what do you do ey? I’ve been studying mental illness stigma for a year and a half now and honest to God even I find myself in the midst of it because that’s the culture I’ve grown up in and it’s hard to disassociate myself with it especially when being bipolar and being depressed and BEING ocd is guilt producing and announcing it in any way shape or form other than an anonymous public forum like this blog is just me “looking for attention” or a “cry for help” you know, that kind of garbage. I sound so pretentious to myself right now. As if I’m entitled to feelings and things like that.
Well, I’ve spent plenty of time finding activities to keep me busy and I cross off and list all of my daily accomplishments. I have a job where I help people that I’ve worked toward getting for years and I’m doing well at and am proud of myself. I run the CBT thought logs in my head and sometimes scribble them on paper and I use positive self talk when I don’t feel like I’m being carried upright by a steel pole that I can’t get any good posture with while it’s impaling me. I try to meditate and I keep a log of my mood and circumstances surrounding it as well as time stamp it. It’s just hard, existing that is, so that’s that.
Oh bother, I am a Barbie of very little brains.