With writing being so theraputic for me, you’d think I would have been here writing my heart out since my last posts. A lot has happened. Summer was so-so, didn’t feel ready to go back to school in the fall. By mid-September my anxiety and depression was a steam roller rolling right over me (don’t know why I’m quoting all these songs today). I went out on medical leave being totally and completely overwhelmed by September 19 and immediately began seeing my psychiatrist and therapist again sometimes 2-3 times each week, major medication overhaul and all that goes with that. This has been the worst and longest lasting “meltdown” I’ve ever had and we figured out a great big pattern that led to a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder II. Very scary, but not the “really bad kind of bipolar disorder”, but a more muted (not so manic highs, just big spurts of frenzied activity, high productivity, etc.) then crushing lows. It was decided that I should apply for disability benefits and take disability leave which I did until January 12, 2009, when I resigned and began a new life as a stay at home person. For months I could do little more than stay at home, sometimes not even leaving my bedroom. Gradually, once the stress of returning to work looming over my head was removed, I began to improve in my mood and motivation and engery, etc. Continuing all this time in adding and changing meds and tweaking dosages, I finally got on a relatively stable plateau in the early Spring ,however by April, it appears as if I am either experiencing another low in the bipolar cycle or the meds aren’t yet right or perimenopause is conspiring to kill me or its all side effects of the medication or….who knows. Some days I’m able to go out to a store for groceries or to Barnes and Noble, but some days, yay even weeks, I can’t leave the house without the anxiety taking over and driving me back into the dark bedroom under heavy medication. Some days I just wonder what my purpose is in life. Why am I even fighting this fight, struggling this struggle, but those days mercifully don’t last long these days (days, instead of weeks or months in a row) and within a few days I can find some reason to get out of bed and do something be it laundry, gardening, just fixing up the tea and coffee pots can be my big accomplishment some days. I remember the days some summers when I would go off of all medications and feel relatively “happy” (whatever happy really means) and I think, ditch it all…if all these meds don’t make me feel any better than this, why take anything at all and suffer all these side effects. Then I fear how bad i might feel if the meds really are helping that much and I were to quit them, so I keep on taking my handfuls of pills morning and night and some days trudging myself to therapy. I feel that I’ve forgotten how to have “fun” just for fun’s sake. That sucks. Nothing excites me. My computer is my only friend, my books having abandoned me due to a gnat-sized attention and concentration span. But on the other hand, I can reason with myself and say that life is good, we are surviving without me working full-time. I’m productive to some extent with teaching my online classes and keeping up pretty well with housework (not cleaning, mind you, just “straightening up”), etc. I look back on the days when I was an accomplished multi-tasker and driving force in the universe and wonder where I ever got any of that energy and drive. I wonder if that girl is gone forever or just on sabbatical. Either way, this is me now and I’m trying to get used to my new life and find some balance and contentment with my lowered responsibilities.
