About being depressed and why

I’m pretty depressed.  I heard a rumor that a friend of mine was trashing my husband and our marriage to her mom, and the mom reported everything she said to my mom.  Look:  We live with her.  She knows most everything that goes on.  You’re not helping and you’re hardly hurting her perception of Mr. M.  What you’re doing is hurting me.  I can’t believe a friend would betray me in that way.  You’re an integral part of our lives.  How could you do this to us?

(I don’t think this person reads this blog.  So I’m not addressing you.)

All that might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Or not.  I was outside convincing myself to lift weights and started getting all wobbly and I was afraid I’d drop the kettlebell again.  I gave up.  I think one of the reasons I didn’t do well was because I’ve been eating mostly cookies.  They’re good:  Oatmeal with dark chocolate chips (Like that makes them healthy.  All those wacky anti-oxidants.  My cholesterol is a little bit high – maybe I should eat more of them.)  I know my body is changing but it’s covered in a two inch coat of fat and it’s going to take real dieting for it to go away.

While I was wandering around the garage, not exercising, I returned to the things I always  perseverate on.  Mr. M won’t let me waste or even spend money on my interests.  Mrs C gives out copies of Babywise (which makes her the enemy – then add all the other evil things she’s done to me.)  I start thinking of suicide.  I think of my mom talking about how horrible A.A. is because others have to forgive them when asked to made amends.  As if she has ever done anything deserving of an apology.  My skin is breaking out like crazy for no reason at all.  Or no reason I’m aware of.  My closet is full of clothes I bought when my hair was light and now it is red.  I’m glad I have a lot of black t-shirts.  I am frustrated by my daughter.

But, as I am a rapid cycler, I open the refrigerator and it’s full of food!  Wonderful – we may have no cash but we do have plenty to eat!  Hallelujah!   My friend, Ms D, is coming to see us and we’re going to have a great time.  My sister-in-law and I are getting along well and she may come down for Christmas.  The Valentine’s books are coming along well, despite my multiple mistakes (I remind myself the whole time that they don’t have to be perfect.) My husband makes me drool.

It’s up and down, and sometimes up and down at the same time.  I wish it wasn’t like this, but it is.  It’s complicated, and while there is probably a medicine that could deal with that I’m actually tired of that.  I don’t want to try something new, I want what I’m taking to work.  I think more than a dozen pills a day is enough.  I write this knowing I’ve told countless bipolar brethren to try meds and if those don’t work, try some more.  I tell them to fight for their mental health.  You know what?  I’m tired of fighting.  I know it’s possible for me to wake up tomorrow ready to be up in arms, but I am just not like that tonight.


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