Rough Day

I'm not exactly sure where I want to go with this post. It's been a weird week for me. Some hypomanic moments, a day of extreme rapid cycling, feeling down and withdrawn. You name it, I experienced it. Most of the time was okay. A lot of my mood shifts were normal. Some were not. Some were true bipolar mood swings. I managed those as well as I could. Even my rapid cycling day. I experienced each mood swing (there were many drastic ones), managed it, and moved on. I didn't catastrophize, I didn't let myself spiral. And I was proud of myself for that. Very proud.

It's funny though, those times where I had a bipolar swing for the worse, I managed and moved on, but I also lingered. I stayed there, thinking that that's where I was supposed to be. In a more depressed state. It's only natural. But I didn't stay there. I moved forward. And I was proud of that.

Yesterday I was in a bit of a funk. A little down, more withdrawn than I have been (though I tried to hide that as I was at work). I think part of it was a decision I made on Friday - a decision that was difficult and that I'm grieving over. October 4th will be my last therapy day with Chance. J and N have been kinda hinting as to me finding a closure point. They didn't say anything outright and are more than happy to do whatever I need to do, but there have been some subtle hints. So I picked an end date. Right before the horses' fall break. I'm staying on as a volunteer so I'll still be with the horses, grooming, and working with them with the disabled children and adults. But it's not the same. Because I won't be with Chance, one on one, us. And I'm grieving that loss. And I think about it and I tear up. But I need to prove to N and J and to myself that I can do this and I can move on and still be okay.

I've also been thinking a lot about therapy. I've been going to weekly sessions for so long. Soooo long. I've been thinking it's time to try going every other week. Start to space out a little. I can't keep seeing M every week for the rest of my life - that won't work. So I had made the plan of talking to him about that today.

And then today. Oh boy today. A very emotionally draining day. Therapy today was an ACOA day. M spaces them out because they're so difficult. It's no fun talking about your drunk mother and how that's affected you and, let's be honest, it sucks. But talk about it we did. And I teared up many times but I didn't cry. I kept it together.

I started to feel the loss of not having the mother I needed, the mother I wanted. Grieving for not having a parent to go to. Grieving, again, over the loss of my dad. Then I told M about Chance. Another loss I'm grieving. And then, spacing out to every other week on therapy (which M agreed I was stable enough to do).

But there's a sense of loss with that, too. I know I see M every week - it's a safety net. And now that will be gone. It doesn't seem like it's that big of a deal, but to me, it is. And I'm scared. I'm scared of failing. If I can't make it going every other week, how can I expect to get better? The goal is to space out so that eventually I only go every 3 months, or 6 months, or only if I have an issue or a crisis. The point of therapy is to get better, find yourself, and move on. I need to prove to M that I can do that. To myself as well, but I feel more of an obligation to prove it to M. He's almost become the parental figure in my life. I need to show him that I'm good and capable and okay and I can do this and he can be proud of me. Everything I had to do with my mom to feel accepted, acknowledged. (I'll be writing tons more on this, I'm sure).

So I didn't cry in therapy. But I balled when I got to my truck. For 15 minutes or so. And I went to my friend L's house and talked about therapy. And started crying. And she gave me the most amazing birthday gift - a horse plushie she knitted herself. And it made me tear up and start crying (these were happy tears). And when my hubby, J, got home, I told him about therapy. And teared up and started crying. All this crying today. I'm so drained.

And you know what sucks? I feel myself giving in to these yucky feelings. These feelings of grief and loss which mimic so well the feelings of depression. I feel myself wanting to give in and have it continue. If it continues, I need therapy more frequently, I need Chance, and the yucky feelings of loss and fear go away. This is my cycle. This is what I do. I'm staring it in the face and a big part of me wants to give up and get sick again. And I can't do that. Because this time? I might not make it out alive. And in this moment, this very moment of typing this, I'm struggling. I'm so drained from today, and I feel so crappy and it's so much easier to stay here. It's an uphill battle at the moment to pull myself back up and move out of this present funk.

But I will. Because I have to prove to people that I can. And because I have to get better.