I'm sitting outside typing this, which makes the screen difficult to see - more so than I thought. But it's gorgeous out. Overcast, light breeze, about 78 . . .gorgeous. Stark contrast to the past few days which have been hot and horribly windy and have hindered the fire fighting efforts here in Colorado.
Today is . . .weird. I'm not sure how else to describe it. I've been having shitty days lately. Days where I feel like crap and I cry or come close to crying and I feel like the depression is coming back. My mood has been trending downward. Friends have noticed. I can't wait to see Dr. C and figure something out. Then I'll have a couple of relatively good days where I feel mostly normal, mostly okay. Days where if my mood trends downward I'm able to bring it back up. Even short periods where I feel really happy. These days I think that nothing's wrong and why the hell did I make the appointment with Dr. C and I don't need any help. And then I have a crappy day again. Or I have a day like yesterday, or today, or over the weekend where I don't cope well and I feel like things are collapsing in around me. Where I'm not really depressed, but I'm overall down and withdrawn and don't really care about anything. There was the threat that we would have to evacuate because of the fires and I didn't really care. Whatever. I've worked 6 of the last 8 days. Whatever. I don't care.
And that feeling, honestly, is terrible. I spend most of my days flat and withdrawn with brief periods of elevated mood (not like hypomanic elevated - just elevated above flatness). So I'm not really depressed, per se, but I'm not really living either.
And stress. Oh my, stress. I'm not handling it as well as is my custom. Nope. Mainly issues at work because we've been so busy and I've been working so much. I manage, but I withdraw more on those days. I seek out places where I can be alone. The less interpersonal interaction the better.
So then today. I had therapy today, which is normally wonderful and I leave feeling good and uplifted and more optimistic. Soooooooo not the case today. I left feeling . . . drained? No. That's not quite right. Disappointed? Well . . .no, not quite right either. Disinterested, hollow, unnerved, defeated, annoyed, frustrated, dissatisfied, drained and disappointed. That's closer, I think. And also this overall attitude of "I don't give a flying fuck through a rolling doughnut about anything".
And I wondered why. Why was I feeling like this? This is not the norm during or after therapy. And I think, maybe, it's because I didn't accurately relay the information above. I'm so blase about everything that I just don't care and I downplay the importance of how much my mood is actually bothering me. Hiding it. An old habit cropping up. So I didn't say much about it - not what I had planned, not what I had intended. I stayed on the surface.
M played devil's advocate and challenged me a little bit. Awesome. Do that. Pointed out that maaaaaaybe some of my complaints/symptoms/whatever are just me being human and not my bipolar. Yep. Awesome. I'm sure he's right. Falling off the exercise and eating healthy bandwagon probably is just me being human. But my downward-trending-I-don't-give-a-fuck mood doesn't help that.
And there's something else. Something else hiding just under the surface. I know it's there, and it's hard to acknowledge.
And it's even harder to write about.
Hard, because I intend on having M read this during therapy next week. My heart is pounding just typing this. Hands shaking. It's stupid. It's so fucking stupid.
See, I have this tiny little paranoid thought that M questions the validity of me needing therapy. Like he's running circles around me, placating me, wondering why I haven't figured this shit out yet. And it's stupid and I'm sure it's not true but that thought? It's there.
The thought has been there over the last few sessions where I've seemed somewhat better and coping and doing rather well and if I'm doing well then why do I need therapy? To beat a dead horse? To help feed M's horses (as I jokingly said today when he asked why I was still coming)? So I question myself and my need and Clancy (my brain, remember) runs with it and I think puts these thoughts and feelings on M.
There's a psychological term for this: projection. Maybe that's what I'm doing. I'm questioning myself and my feelings and it's distressing and so I'm just gonna throw that shit on M so I don't have to feel so bad about it. Bam. I should charge for this.
I've even thought about stopping therapy and my meds and double flipping the bird to the world while riding a unicycle and wearing a fez. Fuck therapy, fuck meds, fuck me. I don't do this because I'm actually not an idiot, but I won't lie - I've come VERY close.
So where does all this leave me? Confused and upset and scared. I'm not sure what to do or expect or say. I'm not sure what I need anymore or if I should trust myself.
And now I'm crying. Fuck.
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