Ten days ago, I shared a little of how dandy life is on a bipolar high. In my mind, remember, I will never feel depressed again; I will always accomplish everything I want - I am invincible. Interesting thing - that mindset persisted even as depression set back in.
I did some chores today, wondering why I felt like I was walking through chest-deep water, wondering why I needed a minute list to remind myself to take things one step at a time (instead of "clean the kitchen" I had "clean area to left of stove, clean up the apple mess, throw out the old taco soup in the fridge").
After watching about twelve episodes of Arrested Development, I decided I absolutely had to spend some time with God. I read a chapter of Ezekiel, took notes. Tried to meditate. Tried to pray. I wrote in my journal. "If it's sin that's keeping me from experiencing God, well, I'm searching my heart and I've asked God to, and nothing new is revealed to confess." Then I realized it might not be sin. Maybe it was my own fault; I've neglected my quiet time for a few days in a row. So I started feeling guilty, like maybe disconnection from God was my punishment for forgetting about him for a few days.
I still felt far from him, but that word "guilt" stuck in my mind, and I decided to list all the things that I felt guilty about.
Wow. About a dozen things just today that weren't even necessarily bad things; in fact, some of them I think were very good (I'll share a few later).
I wrote a question to myself: "If I had a perfectly clean house and a full time job and several children, would I feel closer to God than I do now?" I surprised myself by answering "No." So the answer wasn't that I hadn't been as productive as I'd wanted, but I'd always known that.
One item on my "guilty" list was, "I haven't taken a shower in two days." Then I thought about it; really it has been four days. Worse, I've been at home for the last two days and I've been wearing the same pajama outfit day and night.
I've also been ignoring my friends.
Hmm. Losing track of time, oversleeping, not bathing, not being social, not accomplishing anything, and feeling guilty all the time? I think my manic phase is over, and has been over for a few days now. Strange how I was in denial.
Here's something I want to share with you - something else that should have been a clue that I may be in a depression phase.
This morning I woke up cheery, snuggled with Joe, then came downstairs and made breakfast. I was trying something new, and it didn't turn out. It triggered a panic attack. Joe came down and I said, "I'm sorry that this is what's for breakfast. And I am having anxiety right now and I don't think I can make you lunch or dinner to take to work." He was very sweet about it.
I sat and huddled and realized that it wasn't my mind that was panicking, it was my body. You know how you feel when something really frightens you and your legs get all weak and your heart won't slow down and you can't stop looking around you with wide eyes for the next thing that's going to get you? That's how I felt for no reason, but I was able to know it was not true.
Nevertheless, I knew better than to make it worse with activity; that's always what makes it really bad. I went upstairs and huddled under the covers until noon. (That's another sign that it was a panic attack; that I could get up from eight hours of sleep and promptly sleep another four. Yes, panic makes me sleepy; it takes a lot of energy to be afraid.)
Anyway, I don't know how long this depressive cycle will last, but don't take it personally if I don't really want to talk to you. Catch me in a couple weeks and I should be all happy again!
I did some chores today, wondering why I felt like I was walking through chest-deep water, wondering why I needed a minute list to remind myself to take things one step at a time (instead of "clean the kitchen" I had "clean area to left of stove, clean up the apple mess, throw out the old taco soup in the fridge").
After watching about twelve episodes of Arrested Development, I decided I absolutely had to spend some time with God. I read a chapter of Ezekiel, took notes. Tried to meditate. Tried to pray. I wrote in my journal. "If it's sin that's keeping me from experiencing God, well, I'm searching my heart and I've asked God to, and nothing new is revealed to confess." Then I realized it might not be sin. Maybe it was my own fault; I've neglected my quiet time for a few days in a row. So I started feeling guilty, like maybe disconnection from God was my punishment for forgetting about him for a few days.
I still felt far from him, but that word "guilt" stuck in my mind, and I decided to list all the things that I felt guilty about.
Wow. About a dozen things just today that weren't even necessarily bad things; in fact, some of them I think were very good (I'll share a few later).
I wrote a question to myself: "If I had a perfectly clean house and a full time job and several children, would I feel closer to God than I do now?" I surprised myself by answering "No." So the answer wasn't that I hadn't been as productive as I'd wanted, but I'd always known that.
One item on my "guilty" list was, "I haven't taken a shower in two days." Then I thought about it; really it has been four days. Worse, I've been at home for the last two days and I've been wearing the same pajama outfit day and night.
I've also been ignoring my friends.
Hmm. Losing track of time, oversleeping, not bathing, not being social, not accomplishing anything, and feeling guilty all the time? I think my manic phase is over, and has been over for a few days now. Strange how I was in denial.
Here's something I want to share with you - something else that should have been a clue that I may be in a depression phase.
This morning I woke up cheery, snuggled with Joe, then came downstairs and made breakfast. I was trying something new, and it didn't turn out. It triggered a panic attack. Joe came down and I said, "I'm sorry that this is what's for breakfast. And I am having anxiety right now and I don't think I can make you lunch or dinner to take to work." He was very sweet about it.
I sat and huddled and realized that it wasn't my mind that was panicking, it was my body. You know how you feel when something really frightens you and your legs get all weak and your heart won't slow down and you can't stop looking around you with wide eyes for the next thing that's going to get you? That's how I felt for no reason, but I was able to know it was not true.
Nevertheless, I knew better than to make it worse with activity; that's always what makes it really bad. I went upstairs and huddled under the covers until noon. (That's another sign that it was a panic attack; that I could get up from eight hours of sleep and promptly sleep another four. Yes, panic makes me sleepy; it takes a lot of energy to be afraid.)
Anyway, I don't know how long this depressive cycle will last, but don't take it personally if I don't really want to talk to you. Catch me in a couple weeks and I should be all happy again!
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