And Then It Hits Me

I’m sitting on the bus on the way to a doctors appointment and I’m reading an article on my phone. It strikes a chord, it cuts deep. I get to my appointment and all I can do is cry because of this article that I’ve just read. I spend the rest of the day fighting not to cry. The next day’s not so bad, I hold some composure. The next morning not so bad either. I go out. But then I come home. I break down. I slide down the back of my front door in floods of tears. I wait for it to stop. It doesn’t really but it does slow down.

I get up and start unpacking the groceries but then there it is again, the crying. It’s uncontrollable. It won’t stop, I’m on the floor in the foetal position, crying uncontrollably and it won’t stop. Eventually I manage to get up to reach my meds. I take three Ativan. Within a half an hour the crying ceases. Now I just feel empty. I feel nothing. Like I am nothing. And then it hits me. And then I realise. That article triggered another depression cycle.  Simple article. But there’s always a trigger. And now I have to ride it out, again.

Bipolar depression is rough. The tears, the feelings of nothingness, the not wanting to do anything, staying in bed all day, detaching from life, suicidal thoughts and ideations, thoughts of self harm, feelings of worthlessness. I would give anything to be able to back track six days and feel how I felt back then. Or even three weeks ago when I was manic. When you have Bipolar Disorder you can’t take any day for granted because you really just never know when you’re mood is going to flip. You don’t know when the change is going to happen. You just don’t know. You might be depressed today but maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up tomorrow and want to kill yourself. Or maybe your manic. Maybe in an hours’ time you’ll decided that you can fly. It’s a dangerous game, Bipolar.

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