Practically Bed-Ridden

Still here. Nothing changed. The depression has gotten deeper, more severe, and I’m sleeping so, so much, even though I’m never rested afterward. I’ll wake up, get up, start to do something (anything!) and need to sit down… where I promptly fall asleep again. The psychiatrist wasn’t much help, which is what I expect now anyway from him. My counselor has been away for a couple of weeks. I won’t see her until Thursday, if I can stay awake enough that day to make it out of the apartment.

I really don’t know what to do. I’m not suicidal by any means. Yet I’m more than just “blah,” you know? And I can’t get anyone to understand, so I just don’t mention it anymore to the few people who call me. Hell, I miss their calls anyway and have to text them to let them know I’m awake for a little bit. And my dad just doesn’t get it at all. He’s never dealt with huge depressive issues except for one time in his life. And that was more situational than clinical. In my case, it’s both sitch/clin.

I’m trying. I really am. But I’m not even close to winning over this latest bout yet. Being bipolar sucks ass. I haven’t hit this hard in a long, long time.