depression, and I hate my computer.

I hate my computer. I keep trying to run a game but it won't let me. So I e-mailed tech support. And they e-mailed me back an answer that has nothing to do with the question I asked. So now I hate tech support and my computer.

I just spent a week volunteering. Overall it was an amazing experience. My current pattern of not sleeping and lots of energy really benefited me there since there wasn't time to sleep and being able to go go go really helped.

Until I crashed.

I've ended up in the hospital thrice. The last two were back-to-back, the third one being just a residential program. I've learned a lot about bipolar and how it specifically affects me. I've built up defences I can use against it. I've learned how to try and intervene during an episode, to keep me out of the hospital. Out of the hospital is good. I've spent the last month just holding myself away from mania. It all went the other way, all at once one morning last week. I was great when I got up at the ungodly hour of 5. Two hours later I felt like something had punched me in the stomach. I felt deflated. Everything actually looked darker and flatter, with less detail. All the hope I had had about school, my new apartment, my music, my writing, it all disappeared. There was no hope. I felt like all the hope had gone out of the world. At its lowest point, I began to entertain the idea of being dead. Thinking about it is one thing. Planning or doing is another. I wasn't anywhere near that stage. But it was surreal, leading kids around and being cheerful and helpful, while really I just wanted to give up and lie down. Things lost meaning. There was no point. The feelings got so bad that I knew the only thing that was saving me was that I was volunteering and that people were counting on me. If I had been at home I don't know what could have happened.

I was worried. I knew things were getting bad but I didn't want to reveal my difficulties to my managers. I didn't want to be seen any differently or less able or god forbid, sick. At the same time I knew that the pressure of performing when it was all I could do to move would push me over the edge. My gut knew what to do, and for once I followed it.

I pulled my managers aside. I told them I was crashing - not tired-crash but mood-crash. They knew I was bipolar. (topic for another time, stigma - who do you tell?) So I told them I was crashing mood-wise and didn't want to take it easier but wanted to make sure I was still busy and doing my job so I didn't sit in the scary feelings. I knew my best chance of getting out of this was to try as hard as I could to hold onto myself. My real self. So I did - I wouldn't let myself stew in how crappy it was, even though it took pretty much all I had not to go there. And lucky for me, I was able to pull out of it this time. And once I let the managers know, they looked out for me. I still did the same job and gave the same quality of work but I knew they were checking on me to make sure I was ok. And I was ok. I still felt like a truck was sitting on me but I didn't feel so panicky and trapped, because I had let someone know. I didn't have to carry it all myself.

Yeah I know I'm pretty open here. I'm reasonably open in real life, too. But I don't make a habit of telling people when I'm doing poorly. It helped so much this time. Telling people saved me from a lot of hell that I was headed for. So maybe next time, I'll let someone know what's happening. I don't really talk in person much about bipolar. I'm hoping this blog might open up or ease the stigma of bipolar disorder for some people. And help me talk about it a little bit.

But just to talk a little more about bipolar depression is that it stinks. It's like life is gone. And I want to throw things, I get so frustrated that my body and brain are doing these things against my will. I know who I am. I'm musical and funny and caring and cheerful and passionate and helpful and determined to whatever it takes to do her best. Depression strips me of all that and leaves me just blank and anxious and hopeless. And the shift from one place to depressed happens so quickly. It's like a light flicking off.

I'm happy and productive and am enjoying myself.
then
I'm empty.

Depression makes you wonder who you are anymore. Mania makes you into someone else. And then somewhere in between when you're feeling sane, you get to carve out your niche of who you are. And you get to know that person very well.

I know who I am. Not everyone can say that with certainty. But I know who I am. Thanks to bipolar? Probably.

Bipolar still sucks though.

And I'm back around the circle to not sleeping. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Maybe I can make muffins again.