The Living Death

I started feeling it again Saturday evening. I woke up and something was off. My post sleep medication haze seemed to pull harder than usual. I felt permanently off-kilter and mentally slow. After a few hours of waiting for it to go away and nothing changing, I knew it was the beginning of another bout of the living death. Depression, lows, or the living death as I call it can range from just tired to unable to leave bed, maybe even speak. The real exciting part for me is I don't know how long it will last. A few days, up to even weeks, are the normal range for me.


Trust me, I don't want this portion of bipolar, I hate it. While the excitement and joy of mania is fun before it fully blooms; this is what becomes of me after the mania leaves. I'm not really into crying and generally the living death holds very few tears-it becomes to hard to cry. Right now, as I'm typing, I am struggling to finish the sentence and hopefully it makes sense. My mood isn't really sad even, it's just bleh. Sadness requires feelings and again I don't have the energy for it. As for now I am still able to function well enough, I can get to work and home again. Those might be the only things I can do but since I want to keep my job that'll be enough for now.


Maybe this time won't be too bad. Maybe I'll just feel exhausted and emotionally drained for a few days and then bounce back up. Since my medications have been pretty stable lately maybe this will be a quick episode. Although at the moment the thought of taking my meds is replaced by a picture of me progressively getting older, always taking those damn things and nothing ever getting better. It's enough to almost make me feel anguished.


But I know it will get better, I have had these before and they have always ended. But I still worry that someday I won't remember that this ends. It could be later today or 2 decades from now, but I might not remember. Because when the living death pays a visit, my mind gets sometimes very cloudy. I sometimes forget simple things and all I can seem  to remember is every bad thing I've ever done. Right before I sleep, I'll see all the bad things, when I wake up they are there too, even when I sleep. I may even become too weak to talk or walk but I will hold on the hope that it will get better again. 


I hate the living death, it's not pretty. It's not what depression is depicted in a movie or TV show. Depression doesn't necessarily make a person sad, it makes them unable to feel even. It's not always crying episodes. Sometimes it's not showering for days, because you just don't have the strength. It's not connecting with people because the mental work of being there is overwhelming. Sometimes beating it as simple as breathing from one day to the next until you can finally work up the strength to smile again. Because like I said before, it will end and I will smile again.