It has been a remarkable run. Almost 11 months of feeling good and normal. As anyone who has suffered from a mood disorder knows, that kind of break from the cycle is a gift. And use the gift I did. I accomplished long postponed goals and tasks both personally and professionally. I reconnected with friends. I worked through some personal demons (kind of). But my period of grace is over. The cycle has started again. I knew it would intellectually, but emotionally I hoped that maybe this time it wouldn’t.
It started like it usually does, with an interruption in my normal sleep cycle. Starting about a month ago, I stopped sleeping the night through. I had “middle insomnia”. I wake between 2:00 and 3:30am with a start, suddenly and violently wide awake. It takes at least an hour, often more to fall back asleep. Sometimes, I just give up and get up. Amazingly enough I was able to continue this for a whole month before the inevitable swing began. Not that I didn’t fight and claw at the edge to stay stable.
I am proud to say that I didn’t self medicate with alcohol having (finally) learned that simply speeds the cycle. I did try O.T.C. remedies. Nyquil was a friend for a while. Then Vicodin. Then the standby and usually the best solution, marijuana. But, once on the slippery slope of Bipolar depression, I know I just have to ride it out and hope that I will make it though again without invoking the Final Solution.
I wish I could, like
Bronze John, be helped by medication and the medical community. However, being in the States and self-employed, self-insured, this is not an option. In fact, my insurance company specifically excludes any mental health care, this despite the law in Washington State which requires insurance to cover mental illness. So I must hide my illness like the dirty little secret it is, or I risk losing the lousy coverage I do have. I know that at some point in the next 4 to 6 months, I will probably be in a place where I should be closely monitored. I know that despite my best intentions of telling my husband what is going on, I will begin to hide my feelings. I will begin to plan and calculate and make preparations. And since at that point I will really want to die, I won’t want anyone to know lest they stop me.
I am afraid. I am at the top of the rollercoaster looking down the long drop and my safety bar is not in place. I know what is going to happen and I am powerless to stop it. I hate being out of control. I hate knowing my doom and having time to anticipate the pain and despair. Some part of my wants to give up now. Some part of me is tired of the inevitable fight.
Sorry about the bitch session. I know it is useless to feel sorry for myself. But right now I am in mourning for that which I will lose. I really did hope that it was over after such a long break and the realization that I was deluding myself has been rather devastating.
