We've all heard (and uttered, probably numerous times) the saying 'life sucks', and we probably push it away thinking, be positive, snap out of it, etc. Well, it bloody does suck sometimes, and this weekend has been one of those times.
I've been hit with an overwhelming dose of depression that has been winging it's way to me following an extended (for me) period of hypomania. Extended for me is only about two weeks, and as I'm trying to monitor my moods, become more self-aware, and understand this condition that I have been given, I had known when the 'happy' hypomania was becoming a less positive form of happy, so knew there was a drop coming.
I imagined that this drop would be more tears, more sleeping, and then find a place that seemed more normal. What I hadn't imagined was the overwhelming black hole that sucked me right in, back to a place of extreme suicidal thoughts, not knowing how to cope, and seeing no way out. "They say" that after a high there is always a fall. I am okay with that. I am surprisingly okay with knowing that finding a stable me is more difficult than easy. I'm not okay with the uncertainty and severity.
I wish that there was a solution to take away the intense emotions that I feel, especially obviously, the depressive ones, because luckily for me, my 'manic' ones aren't terribly extreme. I wish I could be certain that the cheerful, positive version of me was really me. I wish that I wasn't on medications that try to lift my mood, while at the same time being on medications that try to dull it. I wish my moments of inspiration and clarity would last long enough and be backed up by continued motivation and actually be able to follow things through. And I wish that I didn't hurt the ones I love, and who love me.
If there is a positive to come out of a fairly emotional rollercoaster weekend, I guess it would be handing over my 'escape method' to Mr P. I say "I guess" because honestly, it is absolutely bloody terrifying to know that the way out that I have carefully had squirreled away for the past 12 months, my safety blanket, is no longer in my hands. I have given that power away. That scares me. What also scares me is how honest I was with Mr P. As much as I never asked for this illness, he certainly never invited it in when he asked me to marry him; when he uttered the words 'in sickness and in health'. I am devastated when I think of the pain that I cause him, but I am also immensely grateful that he is a man of his word, and through everything, he loves me and continues to stand by me and our marriage.
It is not easy living my life, but I know it is not easy being in it either. For the past 12 months I have had quite major thoughts of 'I can't do this', but probably since September I really had things in place. As much as I want to break the stigma, and by sharing my story I hope it will help do that, but it is really tough being so honest with those who love you. I see a therapist. I am brutally honest with her. I feel that we have a connection, and if she weren't my therapist I would wish that our paths would have collided so we could be friends, because I think we'd make good friends, but ultimately, I pay her to keep me from harming myself and destroying my life and the life of those in it. She has known about my thoughts, we had talked them through. I think she was disappointed when she couldn't really disagree with the logic behind my thinking, because she has helped so many people in worse places than me. She urged me to tell Mr P, but I couldn't. I couldn't because I didn't want to see the pain that would cause him. I didn't want to have him worry about me more than he already did. And I didn't want to have him stress so much about our future. Especially given where we live. Suicide is not regarded well here; and after a failed attempt, it is possible to end up arrested. I guess there is a part of me that may potentially be grateful for this in the future.
Anyway, yesterday it felt right to hand over my stash to Mr P. He was so amazingly composed as he listened to me talk. I have heard him say so many times that he loves me and he is committed to me and our marriage, but we have continued in the same cycle, where the only noticeable thing moving forward was time. This weekend, when I told him I couldn't see a way out, he told me to dry my tears and help him put up the gazebo in our garden. I instantly thought he didn't realise the situation we were in, but he said that it would make me see that I could accomplish something. Looking back, those words, and his insight, bring me to tears.
We did put up the gazebo. The instructions had a picture of four people putting it up, and they were probably right. We put bits together and had to take them apart and put them together again in the right way. I got very p*ssed off and was tempted to throw my toys out the pram and give up. I resisted the urge. We didn't talk a huge amount. At times I felt he was watching me, wondering whether his plan would work, whether my frustrations or he would win. We struggled with a 3x3m structure, four corners, and arms not able to span the required three metres. We got bitten by a rather large number of mosquitos. We did a lot of this the dark. I think it took about three hours. We got the structure up and the roof on. He ordered dinner, it arrived, we ate it, watched tv briefly and went to bed.
And yesterday, when we finished the gazebo and were sitting under it, I realised that he was right (but shhhhh, don't let him know that!). There was a sense of achievement. It was then that I started sharing more with him. It was then that I really realised that I needed to trust him. I have been so scared of scaring him away with my thoughts, but I realised that I was much more scared of never being able to make him happy, and live the life that we have always wanted. And that's why I gave him my stash.
I often say 'it won't be quick, it won't be easy, but it IS possible'. I think, for today, I might actually believe it.
I wish you the best day possible, love Becs xxxx