Hard Things
January 14, 2016, 11:31 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I usually write when I am feeling strong.

I usually write when I feel my words might help someone else out there.

Today, lately, I feel weak. I feel beat down. I feel hopeless and worse–

I feel that I am poisoning the world around me.

No one wants to hear me whine about problems I have been battling for years.

No one cares that yet another medication didn’t work.

That I stopped going to therapy.

That my suicidal thoughts returned.

Why would they? Everyone has their own problems. I am happy to help everyone with them. I am glad of the distraction from my own hell. When people message me or speak to me about their own struggles with depression or anxiety, I can put on my brave and gracious mask.

Everyone says that it seems I am doing better lately. They say my coloring has improved. That I smile more. That I am more myself.

It is all a lie. I am sorry. I am a lie right now.

I feel the most sorry for my husband. My husband is 31 and has become my caretaker. He gives me anything I want. He let’s me do anything I want in the name of happiness. He takes the brunt of a bipolar person’s rage.

That is a mighty rage.

That rage is full of irrational, intelligible screaming. Threats. Leaving. Self harm.

My husband is young, handsome, and smart. He could have had a much simpler life where his wife was only sometimes moody or passive aggressive.

He deserves that life, I think. I tell him that often. I beg him to leave. I tell him to take our daughter with him.

This is when I am at my lowest, you see. This is when I am surrounded by the dark and I cannot see the light and I want to save them before it engulfs them, as well.

Get far away from me. Get in the car and leave before I self destruct and take the whole place down with me.

People, in general, have stopped asking me how I am doing and I partly glad for it.

I am not doing well but, as always….as fucking always…I am trying, dear readers.

I went back to my psychiatrist after being off of meds for a month. She threw me back on an old med that made me gain weight in a hopes to just stabilize me while she reconfigures what to do with me. She asked if I would mind if she shared my file with her online women’s mental health group for crowd sourcing. I, of course, consented.

Even my psychiatrist is at a loss with me.

But I am here, world. I am putting my story out there because I found that the words weighed too heavy inside of my head.

Life is hard right now but I need to remember, as we all need to remember, that we can do hard things.


1 Comment so far
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I know anything I say will not be nearly enough to ease your pain even a little bit. I truly hope that you will continue to reach out to whoever can help you and do whatever it is you need to do to bring peace to your mind and body. The hell with the weight gain…be happy. Who gives a crap about being skinny! Some of the happiest people I know are overweight and some of the unhappiest are skinny as a rail. If medication helps you to deal with this crazy world we live in and be healthy, who gives a rat’s ass about the weight gain.Please do what ever you need to in order to be able to smile at the sun.

Comment by Debe Winkler

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