I found this sitting in my drafts folder, something I’d written back in January after Tom forgot my birthday. Old news now but it’s a good insight into depression.
Today I got up and showered. I put on make-up and even half-heartedly dried my hair. I put on a nice summer dress and took myself out for breakfast.
These sound like mundane things and they are but it took a lot of self-talk to get there. I wanted to stay in bed, bury my face in a pillow and sleep all day. I wanted to ignore a whole day of freedom and possibilities and stay alone and quiet in the semi-dark.
This is bipolar. This is depression. It’s forcing yourself every day to do things that your head is telling you are too hard. It’s putting on clean clothes and washing your hair. It’s eating when you feel like drinking. It’s smiling at waitstaff when you want to hide your head in your hands.
I made some big decisions in the past 24 hours or so. I guess the most significant was deciding not to drive into a tree. I called a friend instead and cried into my Bluetooth.
I decided to eat dinner when I wanted to drink alcohol. I offset such wisdom with half a dozen lines so I’m still at zero there. I decided to stay up late with my dog’s head in my lap and pat her velvet ears and I was grateful for her.
I decided to write back when he emailed but only with three words.
“I’ve given up.”