Today has been a struggle, the hardest I’ve had since leaving the hospital.
My mind is loud and overcrowded again. Paranoia is creeping in again whispering it’s lies. I’m trying to ignore the urge to disconnect from everything.
The depression that was starting to lift over the past two weeks re-tightened its grip today, letting me know it’s not ready to leave just yet.
My OCD has gone from manageable to uncomfortable to downright out of control. My ankle injury kept it in check for a week, but once I was able to walk on it with just my brace, it took over and stopping myself during a cleaning frenzy proves to be difficult. I spend the majority of my day cleaning things I cleaned the day before. Bertski says I always get a certain look when this happens. My body language is different, I get a distant look in my eyes, I’m detached, and I become withdrawn and preoccupied with what I’m doing. Lately I’ve noticed that instead of bringing me the comfort they used to, I now feel trapped by my compulsions and my inability to resist them has left me weary and frustrated.
“I can’t do this. Not today,” I said quietly to myself as I lay there feeling depression starting to smother me. I laid on my bed earlier this morning and listened to the thoughts ruminating in my mind. They were pretty evenly split between depressive thoughts and obsessive ones.
I decided to make a choice. I could lay there and go back to those dark places I had just left a few weeks ago or give in to my compulsions and clean all the things that really didn’t need cleaning.
I chose the cleaning. I figured since it involved movement it was better than just being a limp noodle on the couch or hiding in my bed. Besides, Alex was hyper and I needed to clean up the pee festival he had in his bed last night.
I got up and opened the blinds in my room. The sunlight streamed in, illuminating the room and burning out my retinas with its cheery, bright rays. I threw on my favorite tee, took a deep breath, and walked over to the computer.
Music. I pulled up a playlist and got work on cleaning up the pee festival. 10 minutes later I was near tears and shuffling through my iTunes for a different playlist. Note to self: Listening to Adele’s soulful, aching songs about heartbreak and loneliness only causes your mood to sink even further into the pit you’re clawing your way out of.
Beck’s “Loser” came on and while I usually enjoy it, singing a chorus about killing myself didn’t feel right given my current state of mind.
Out of desperation my eyes landed on Beyonce.
Good ol’ Beyonce with her mindless lyrics and booty shaking beats.
“Single Ladies” started playing and I spent the next 5 minutes doing my best Beyonce dance moves in my underwear before I realized the window in the boys’ room was wide open. I pressed the replay button and danced on anyway.
By the way, in case you were wondering, my Beyonce moves look like this:
I gave myself 20 mins to clean & pick up around the apartment and throw soiled bed sheets into the washer.
Had lunch and a wrestling session with Alex.
Danced to some more Beyonce and Lady Gaga.
Took a shower and put on my “I’m Beautiful” Afro girl tee.
Then I forced myself to sit and write this post and finally record a new episode of “My Bipolar Life.”
I’m going to do my best to keep doing these web videos even though I suck at not saying “um” and have a hard time looking at the camera. Oh yea and it’s unedited. So. Anyway, here’s what I had to say. I hope you’re having a better Wednesday than I am, but if you aren’t, know that you aren’t the only one getting beat up by life today. Keep fighting.