This week has been a sea of sadness, brought on by tidal waves of tears. Sunday I had a conversation with a friend of 20 years and when he asked how I was, I replied “Excellent!” and I meant that, honestly.

Let’s transition to Monday evening, following afternoon therapy, and I am self harming. Feeling guilty. Then crying. The rest of the week of spent in intervals of crying. This could be for a reason – a love song, or for no reason at all. For the reason that I am here. For the reason that I have this illness. For the reason I would use a knife on my skin.

 

If you have never suffered from depression, I’d think it would be hard to truly understand the pain and hopelessness it clouds your mind with. But when I post two sentences about how I am feeling, compassion pours out of my online friends – most saying they can’t understand what it feels like, but they love me. And you know what, in its own little way, that helps.

Today I did something distracting in the sun, getting my Dr. prescribed vitamin D. And though it was hotter than a biscuit, I think it helped a bit. I am still depressed. The heaviness is still there. The ugliness remains. But I am trying not to affect anyone else. This week I will see my providers and in time I will be well again. This is just part of the bargain you take on when you accept the title BIPOLAR.