Warning: There will be f-bombs.
I haven’t been around much for two reasons:
- I’ve been buried under a pile of essays, tests, term papers, projects and presentations for school. College is tougher and more consuming than I thought, yo. No more 15 credit semesters for me. EVER.
- I’ve been in a depressed state for 2 weeks.
Not just a “I don’t want to get out of bed,” kind of depression, but a “I don’t want to live anymore” kind of depression. You know, the kind that greets you when you wake up in the morning with a list of ways to obliterate your existence? The kind where stormy, intrusive thoughts darken the horizon in your mind, and blot out any rays of hope that attempt to break through?
Yes. That kind of depression. The kind that makes you call your psychiatrist and question whether or not you need to be committed.
The kind that leaves you feeling hopeless. The kind where you don’t see the point in believing in anything outside of yourself….like God.
Yes. I’ve been that depressed.
Going to class, taking care of my boys, leaning on my partner for support…clawing my way through each moment and quietly trying to turn a deaf ear to the voice that says I don’t matter.
It tells me my life is nothing more than what exists inside the prescription pill bottles that adorn my windowsill…
It tells me I will never amount to what I aspire because the chains of mental illness are too strong to break…
It tells me I am nothing…void of value, worth, and anything of “good” substance…..
I know it’s lying.
But when bipolar depression locks me in solitary confinement it’s hard to believe anything other than what my malfunctioning mind is telling me.
It distorts my self-perception and skews my vision.
At it’s most oppressive peak it’s like quicksand-the harder you try to fight it, the more entrenched you become….
So for about a week, instead of fighting I’ve just been quietly waiting….
Struggling through my daily routine, watching depression beat the life, hopes, ambition, passion, and joy right out of me….
But today I felt it….the tiniest seed of strength springing up in my spirit like a blade of grass springing forth from the dirt.
This tiny seed of strength sprang up and broke open a way for me to escape.
Today I started fighting the fuck back.
I finally pressed the mute button on the Voice that said I didn’t matter.
I put on some music.
I played trucks with Alex and Sega Genesis with Brennan.
I painted my toes pink.
I opened the windows in my house and sat in sunlight.
I started to tackle my list of homework assignments.
I told myself I can f@#!-ing do this.
I can live.
I can breathe in life and let it fill my being without suffocating.
I can be a good mother.
I can be a good partner/wife.
I can help others.
I can be joyful in the deserts of life and when there’s no shade or water in sight.
I can believe in God and be thankful for grace that endures the crushing weight of my darkness.
I can dance.
I can laugh.
I can create.
I can write.
I can be all the parts of me that DO function.
I can be A’Driane.
Finding stability isn’t easy but it is possible to grab a hold of.
I may have to live with mental illness but I long for the day when I don’t have to wrestle it for my survival.
F@#! you Bipolar Disorder. You may win battles but I’ll be damned if I let you win the whole f@$!-ing war.
I’ve got too much to live for.