It's one of those nights. Up at 4am, on the computer until 6am. There are things I, supposedly, wanted to do today: See Twilight. Having read the book, every trailer I've seen has made it more and more enticing to me (perhaps, too, because I knew I couldn't go; we were too poor). Now I'm up in the middle of the night, wondering what it's all for. Jb got laid off a month early. No help forthcoming from JSSA. I'm supposed to do grocery shopping tomorrow, and I can't be bothered with it. In fact, I simply don't want to do it. Not in a stomp your foot, two-year-old tantrum sort of way, but in a deadened, "I don't have the heart," way. And for some reason, at 6:33am in the morning, I feel like crying and mourning my marriage. But then, I flip like a switch and mourn anything these days--anything without discretion. I've become a "Fragile: Handle With Care" package.
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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