Unmedicated, but not completely unmotivated…

Ugh, I’m so depressed. When I feel this way, it feels like it’s going to last forever, even if I am only feeling it for a few minutes.

I’m off my anti-depressants. I’ve been bobbing around from one prescription to another, each having its own set of side problems, the latest being an issue with blood pressure. So, right now my moods flip horribly. I struggle more with volatility than depression really. I overreact to things, frustration, annoyance, etc. Just the smallest thing can set me off. I don’t (usually) behave the way I’m feeling. I control it, but inside I’m raging or babbling on to myself a series of enraged statements. Sometimes self-directed, sometimes about others. Meanwhile, externally, at worst I’m cold but mostly I’m appearing normal. My mental issues cause me to suffer more than anyone else. I hate making others suffer. I love my family and they don’t deserve that. I get so easily annoyed by small things and my annoyance so easily becomes internal rage or something close to rage, and it’s over stupid stuff, like how long my husband takes in the bathroom or how long he takes to get ready to go out the door. These are things that should only cause minor annoyance. T

This morning I became enraged over the fact that the blood pressure cuff wouldn’t work, probably needs new batteries. Truly, a minor thing that my mind blew into a huge injury to my morning until the voice of reason cut through my tantrum and forced me to take a few long breaths. All this while appearing just normal outwardly. My blood pressure probably rose quite a few notches just dealing with the blood pressure machine 🙁

The other issue is that I assume things, like if someone doesn’t answer a text right away, I assume they don’t want to hear from me or that they don’t like me or I get insulted quickly. My feelings are so easily hurt. I feel embarrassed and ashamed. I begin to feel unloved, a pariah, it builds into this big deal and I get uncertain over what is real or not. Maybe they really don’t like me after all and I never realized it. Then I decide well, I don’t like them either… f*ck them. If they ever text me again, I won’t answer them either. And so it goes. Or I wonder about my shoes, my hair, how does it all look. Do I look stupid? Are people laughing at me. I get over conscious and worried about what others thing when ordinarily, I don’t really care that much. I mean, I care, just like most people care–but I don’t ruminate on it usually. Right now, however, without meds, I get vulnerable about it and it’s such a battle to stay on an even keel.

Plus I didn’t sleep well last night, so that doesn’t help either. And as I begin to churn about all that stuff, I start to wonder if there’s something physically wrong with me. Is my heart going to give out? Am I sick? Do I have this? Do I have that? Will I suddenly keel over dead? Then I think about death, and I think about it in the way all cowards do. What will really happen once I die? I believe in God but it’s a sortof belief. I find it so difficult to really believe the closer I get to death (because, after all, age is a terminal illness and every day I live, I get older and closer to death). I mean it IS difficult to hang on to the cherished belief of the Biblical Jesus. How could that really be? I pray as if it is. I conduct myself as if it is. I go to church as if it is. But I wonder how realistic it could be. When I look around at the world I know and the charismatic leaders, etc. etc. I wonder if He was really just a legend that got blown out of proportion and I get scared. As Paul said, if He is not who we think He is, we are to be pitied more than any other men.

I do believe in God, though. Most of the time. It seems that we have a communication… or sometimes I call it the voice of reason if I’m in a particular place of doubt. I pray and sort of believe in prayer. It seems to work for some people some of the time. I have a constant apologetic conversation going on in my head convincing myself that God really could exist and here’s why. Certainly MY life seems to have been charmed and I don’t believe in charms or even luck. I believe in heavenly protection and figure I must be riding on my grandparents’ prayers for me because I don’t think my parents prayed all that much. That reminds me from time to time to remember to pray for my children and my grandchildren. I pray every day, but not always for them specifically. I should.

So anyway, I am unmedicated, angry sometimes, but then sometimes I look up at the sky and the trees and think to myself and to God, how beautiful are the things he’s created. I love it when somebody reads my books and tells me they enjoy them. That makes me believe that God must like to hear how much we enjoy the things He has created. And He has created much better things than I have. That makes me feel elated, the manic side of my manic depression 😉 That side is good.

And I’ve got energy, some at least. I’ve baked and cleaned and met goals that I’ve set for myself, so I’m not unmotivated. I just wish I felt better. And I also wish I’d stop thinking about death all the time.