This Too Shall Pass

I wake up. I suppose that’s a good thing. It doesn’t really feel very good. After a short while of debating with myself as to whether or not I will actually get up, I do. I drag myself to the washroom and stare into the mirror. It’s not going to be a good day. I knew it before it even began.

There’s just a way of knowing the day isn’t going to be good. It’s hard to describe. There’s a weight on my chest that radiates outward in every direction, bringing down everything it comes in contact with. My bones feel heavy. I drag my feet and shuffle to the stairs and up to the kitchen. I fill the kettle with water, place it on the stove, and turn on the burner. My arms hang low and my shoulders are hunched. Body language is a powerful thing.

All of a sudden the kettle squeals. My mind had drifted. It’s all I can do to focus on making my tea. I ache all over. And that’s just my body. My mind is a whole other story.

Mentally I also drag. My thoughts are dark and grey. Why did I bother to get up? What will I ever accomplish today? When will I feel better? Why do I feel this way? Questions plague my brain. Especially why. I think hard about what could be causing me to feel so low. I have not received any bad news; my life is in a pretty stable state, I am not upset about anything. The list could go on and on. But it doesn’t because nothing is wrong. Seemingly.

Sometimes there’s just no reason. Or at least it feels that way. I pick up a magazine and try to read, but I can’t concentrate enough to follow a sentence. What good am I? What can I do? I can’t even decide what I want to do. I’m lonely, but I don’t want to be around people. I stare down at my meds sitting next to my tea. I haven’t taken them yet. Some days that’s a battle. Today is one of those days. I eventually down the cocktail.

As the intellectual part of me knows, there really is a reason. The reason is just not visible. The reason can be barely explainable. It’s bio-chemical. My brain doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. That can be difficult for a lot of people to understand or accept. I accept it now. I accept that today is a dark day. I will allow myself this time. I have been here before. This is the low-tide of the cycle—a day marred by depression.

I used to fight these days. Insist on reasons beyond what the doctors explain. I used to try to force myself out of a down mood. That rarely works. It causes me more pain and anxiety than it’s worth. So I grant myself the day. I will treat myself with kid gloves and pamper myself in many ways. I will try to stimulate my senses. I will do only what feels good and only what isn’t too much of an effort. Sometimes I need to give myself the day. I accept that these days happen. I try to go with it. And I recant to myself: this too shall pass.

Profile pic - from gramma

Cynthia Forget was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in 2005 and has since been through a myriad of experiences, doctors and treatments. Ten years later, she is now relatively stable—as stable as one can be with Bipolar Disorder. She is lucky enough to have a psychiatrist who actually listens to her. She uses writing as therapy and through Facebook, Twitter, and her own on-line blog, she is a strong advocate for those with Bipolar Disorder.

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