Not to mock mental illness, because it’s a very serious issue, but occasionally I go stark, raving. Truly. I suffer from Bipolar Disorder. (Btw, I loathe the expression suffer from, but it does seem to fit.) People with Bipolar Disorder (as you probably know) have mood swings, but spend most of their time struggling with depression.

Usually meds take care of the worst of it. Which, in my case is the mania. Which, in my case is NOT of the “start a new business” or “run around the house organizing things” variety. Nope. Lucky me, I get the edgy, irritable, screaming type. (Who knew that mania could look like that?) Sadly, it took me a long time to get properly diagnosed, so I used to be quite the asshat. Thankfully, the meds do help me with the mania, and it’s no longer an issue. Back to depression.

It still catches up with me from time to time. And that sucks. There doesn’t seem to be a “right” amount of medication that makes me fine all of the time. (sigh) So, every once in a while, I get in a low patch that I can’t pull out of. But I know I’m there and I have perspective, so I don’t get in over my head. I just ride it until it lets up. Now, even more rarely, one sneaks up on me, and I’m in it without realizing I’m in it. And that, my friends, is when I go all kinda crazy.

I know that when we are depressed our thinking is distorted, but, boy, when I am truly in it, and I don’t have that perspective, I completely buy-in and I suffer. So do the people around me. In addition to being inconsolably negative, I feel empty and miserable and when the pain becomes acute, I reach out for someone to help. Which doesn’t always end well. Depends who’s on my radar. If it’s a bestie, and they’re available, it’s usually okay. If it’s someone familiar with me or depression, it’s hit or miss. If I get focused on anyone else, say my kids (who are not supposed to support me) or a man who is not expecting that level of needy; that gets ugly. I shudder just thinking about it. It’s hugely awful.

I wrote this the last time I had one of those ugly incidents. I was still in the acute pain stage, but I could finally see what was happening to me. This was my attempt to describe it. I called it Demons and Lies, and it’s also posted in here under Ramblings.

Demons.
Hurt.
Pain. Fire.
Heart crushed in a vice.
Chest heavy, can’t breathe.
Empty, aching, needing. Pain.
Blistering pain.
Horrific.
Damn, it snuck up on me.
Tendrils creep into my brain and whisper lies.
Distort truth, alter reality.
Confuse me.
Alone.
No one loves me. Alone.
Unlikeable.
Make me act out.
Set myself up.
Reach out.
Then suffer with the rejection.
Then, I really am alone.
No one wants me when I’m like this.
I am painful, needy.
Unworthy, broken.
Twisted, unlovable.
Brain hurts, heart hurts.
Empty chasm in my chest where my heart should be.
Black, dark, void, cavity.
I can fight it.
I can beat this thing.
I’m okay, I’m good. I deserve to be loved.
Someday, I’ll be worth it to someone.
But it always wins.
Demon, tendrils, whispering.
Torture me.
Hurt me.
Why?
Not fair.
It hurts. It hurts so badly.
My chest is crushed.
Huge weight on the empty place where the love should be.
Nothing helps.
I will always feel like this.
Eventually, it does pass, and I can breathe.
Until the next time…