Last night, I got blindsided by a wave of ‘OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO SAD YOU NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT’. Well, I know I’ve been fighting hard to keep my head above water depression-wise, but eat all the things? Really? I am not an emotional eater. I never have been. I can only surmise that, after finding no satisfaction off of the e-cig and not being able to drink, that was the next vice in the line that my brain was desperately trying to insist would bring succor. Thanks brain, really. At least I didn’t give in too badly (okay, a handful of mini-marshmallows and a Rice Krispie treat… balanced against the butt remnants of a red bell pepper and a freshly made by me fruit smoothie), but suffices to say, I am not impressed with my brain at this exact second.
I’m actually wondering if this is a weird shifting of my PMS hormones into my cycle time. It would make sense, seeing how my PMS isn’t nearly as severe as it used to be, and it was that sort of combination that made me consider hanging myself a few months back. I’m not in physical pain this time, which obviously goes a long way towards preserving some remnant of sanity. But if, if that bit of hormone has shifted into a comorbid-with-cycle position, hopefully I can be mindful of that enough to keep myself from falling to bits. You guys know how it is — if you can pinpoint a reason (however spurious) for why your brain is in full-out I HATE YOU assault mode, well. It makes it easier to fight on.
I should add that saying this stuff is hella hard for me. I’ve opted to say it here rather than my privater blog because I trust other folks with bipolar to react ‘correctly’. That is to say, to not try to cosset me and demand attention with well-intentioned affection that drains energy I don’t have (and therefore makes things worse, but because they’re doing the ‘right’ thing, I’m the ass). Contrariwise, I know that my friends who also have mental health situations understand the need to get it off one’s chest, and how knowing that friends who have been there are nodding along provides a lot more strength than a huggle. And I do need to be able to say these things, to let them go into the wild so I can have that moment to catch my breath and get up off the ground enough to keep moving. It’s putting down a large trunk in the baggage of life, yo. That helps a lot more than being buried in throw pillows and those dangly car air-fresheners.
Whatever the case, I continue to plod on and try to keep afloat. Part of me is seriously considering poking my doctor to see if I can get some antidepressants to bolster me through this time, but another part of me doesn’t want to risk throwing more chemicals into the mix while I know it’s volatile. I guess I’ll keep keeping my head down and see what comes of things.