Jb comes home in a mood before he even hits the door. I can hear it on the phone when I call to see when he's coming home. Early, apparently, and pissed. It doesn't take 10m for his mood to invade mine. He shuts me down until I'm so mad at myself for allowing him to have any such control over me that I can hardly look at him. He pushes. I push back. We keep at each other, picking, ignoring, picking at the scabs of a fight waiting to go. It's the shutdown I hate. It's my mother and me all over again. I don't want to feel anything, but all I have is rage, and I can't do anything about it.
About Me
- Inertia
- This is my blog. I thought about saying, "This is my bipolar blog," but I still feel like a pretender to that throne. If it is bipolar, it's Bipolar II, heavy on the depression, light on the hypomania. It also could merely be chronic major depression. As if major depression is something you could ever say "merely" about.
I went into the hospital on March 13th, 2008 for depression and suicidal ideation. It was my first hospitalization. I'm starting this blog three months later, to turn things over, report things, give them some sort of reality beyond simply being in my head. Because I don't trust my head anymore.
I'm a 32-year-old writer with one marriage behind me and the unwavering support of my boyfriend, Jb. I've struggled with this particular depressive episode since June 2007. The hospitalization was the most humbling yet freeing experience of my life. I've lost my job, my sense of security, and my sense of self. But I've gained a diagnosis, a place to begin again, and the time to do so.
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