Some mornings, too many mornings, I wake up warm and cozy with my fleece sheets pulled up to my chin. And I feel petrified - emotionally and physically. I feel I can't possibly get myself out of bed for yet another day. My body feels made of stone.The simple acts of shower, make-up, hair, and finding something to wear seem like too much. I curl into a ball thinking about another day behind a computer, wearing headphones to help limit the noise that sets off my anxiety, forcing myself to interact with people for 8 hours, trying not to be irritated by everything around me. The argument with myself begins. Of course I can do this. I can get out of my bed and get the day going. I have a good life. Friends who care, people who love me, a good paying job for a great family friendly company. And yet moving - getting out of my bed - takes so much out of me I wonder what I'll have left for the rest of the day. If it's a good day, there's no pain anywhere. My joints don't hurt. My shoulder doesn't ache. If it's a really good day, once I get myself moving the day doesn't take quite as much energy and I can have a "normal" day.
I suffer from bipolar disorder. For me, the manias are rare but do happen. The depression is frequent. I've tried most medications and had various issues with the majority of them. I can't "snap out of it", as much as I'd like to do just that. I'd love to wake up and say, "Today I won't be depressed or anxious. Today I won't be so tired and achy that a day at work takes everything out of me." In fact I do wake up and say those things. But sometimes it's really not about "mind over matter".
This is my life. Some people can't handle it: the ups and downs and never being quite sure where I'll be at next, the overreactions, the irritability. I can't say I blame them. For those who have managed to stick around, I say thank you. It is because of you I'm still here and making it through another day.