Quicksand Days

severe elevation | high elevation | moderate elevation | slight elevation | normal | slight depression | moderate depression | deep depression | severe depression || anx : 1 , agit : 1


I've apparently moved into a depressive phase, quel bummer. I've had around a whole month of normal-happy anyway, so I should be thankful for that. For now, I've got to watch the triggers, my involvements, my sleep hours and such, to keep me from spiraling down into somewhere I can't pick myself up from. This is really important.

On Wednesday morning, I woke up (too early) with a mild distaste for life - which quickly and treacherously snowballed into a horrible resentment for everything and everyone. I didn't bother to call my Hubby at work to ask him to come home like I usually would when I get this sick, because I wanted to go online, and having him home so early meant he had to use the laptop so he could work (hahahaa ... what a dilemma!). So there I laid crying in bed, refusing to get up or even live; I didn't even notice my hunger. The only reason I got up and faced the day was my rabbit-friends started climbing up the bed and begged to be fed. I couldn't stand thinking that they be hungry; I knew I'd get more depressed if they became unwell.

I thought about what could have triggered the upset and swung me down deeper. I realize it was just a small, passing comment someone made about somebody else. It blew into gross disproportions with cataclysmic repercussions in my own mind. How gnarly, huh?

Here's the basic schematic of that:
My friend got praised.
Being already depressed, I felt bad for myself for not being the recipient of that praise.
I began to think I was not praiseworthy.
I got upset.
I got majorly upset at the world for not appreciating me.
I got majorly upset at myself for not being what I could have been.
I got majorly upset for not ever reaching the goals I set for myself.
And I was a big, fat loser. And no one can convince me otherwise (The thing with Bipolarity - it's biological /chemical; you can't treat it with psychological or spiritual tools).
And I wanted to die.
And I thought of ways to kill myself.

And that all happened within a span of eight minutes as I sat in a couch in Nini's living room while everyone else happily chatted around me, not knowing I was plotting my suicide in their blessed presence.

So please don't praise my friend in front of me. Thank you.

I am right now on unsafe ground that even the smallest thing can upset the balance. I have got to be meticulously careful; I'd really rather not sink.

So anyway, since Wednesday, I've adjusted my chemical intake, hopefully to regulate. Which reminds me -I've also got to fill my schedule with cheerer-upper activities to counteract the dipping mood.

Yesterday, I acquired a warm-fuzzy sense of contentment from being productive. Not just busy, but actually productive. I did something I haven't done in over a year: make study lessons. They're for church. I don't really enjoy doing it but I am told I am quite excellent at it (and I think it's true), so it gives me a sort of satisfaction, especially when I know that the material I make will be well-used by others (and by extension, will help to accomplish the church 's goals in obedience to Christ's commands, so that's a really good thing). I'll be keeping myself busy these next few weeks with writing out those ten or so lessons. Hopefully my energy will allow it.

Ah well, when emotional resources and physical energy dwindle, there's always SAM-e. Junkie.