I’m starting to notice patterns in my moods.
I’ve never paid much attention before, I just kind of got swept along by them, alternately riding or being dragged by each new wave and the whole time thinking, “WHAT IS THIS? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”
But now I’m trying to notice, to become aware of how I’m feeling and when I felt it before and how long it lasts. And I’m beginning to recognize patterns, predictability, which is really nice. Predictability is comforting.
I believe the medication takes the edge off of the highs and lows, makes the depression less consuming and the anger less intense and uncontrollable. So I’m very glad for this, and I recognize things could be, and have been, much worse.
Every once in a while I wake up and the first thing I think to myself is, “I feel amazing!” I love those days. Those are the days when I clean the house and spend all day making loaves of bread and homemade granola and cooking elaborate meals and doing preschool activities with the boys (which they absolutely love). Although they last at most a full day, I treasure those times. My house would be a disaster if it wasn’t for them.
And there are days like today, and yesterday, and the day before that, when I wake up just feeling off. Something inside me feels wrong. I recognize the feeling, and I know what it means. I know it means I will be on edge all day, and that I will have to let the boys watch extra TV so I don’t snap at them. I know that when I do have time to myself I will be pacing, or mindlessly clicking through windows on the internet, because my mind feels at once dull and completely scattered, unable to focus or retain interest in anything.
Sometimes, on days like this, I get easily overwhelmed, or overstimulated I suppose. Too much noise feels like it’s crowding my brain, and I can’t process the words that are coming at me. Sometimes I can’t stand the feel of things touching me, and putting on a pair of jeans makes me want to tear my skin off. On these days I’ll wear the most comfortable things I can find, neither too loose (extra fabric can be irritating) nor too tight (for obvious reasons–feeling like you’re being squeezed to death would set anyone on edge), and soft, tagless fabrics only.
No amount of yoga or meditation or attempts to be positive seems to help lift this spell. Maybe there’s more I could do (I’ve never been one to fake it till I make it, I find lying about my feelings exhausting), but for now, I hold on to the knowledge that this day will pass, and not every day will be like it.
High or low, nothing lasts forever.
I take comfort in that.
I had something else in mind that I wanted to write today, but I gave up after a few attempts and decided to do what I do best, which is to write honestly. I know this was a very personal post and I may have regrets about it later, but for now, it is what it is.
Peace and good days to you.