#the pills aren't working rn it drives me mad it makes it worse

[melmodest]

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at times when I hit my lows the routine I've built over the past few years since been diagnosed with bd is the hardest and the most tiresome thing, but strangely it is my anchor too. when I'm in my lows being a sad depressed crybaby wanting to hide from the world and everyone in it I try to clutch tightly at this daily routine as it helps me to stay afloat the most.

little things - doing chores, hot yoga, english, some writing, watching tv series, taking walks, etc., they don't let me lose my grip and hope for the better. in those little things I find strength to cope with the dark silhouette (a projection of my low phase) sitting across me at the table while tightening the reins and contemplating a way to shatter my will to keep fighting for good. I would lie if I were to say that it is easy to hold onto this routine and after a few days the silhouette magically gives in and disappears.

nope.

never.

sticking up to something so trivial is like carrying a bunch of stones - I have to get over myself and just do it, at least try to do it to the extend that seems doable so I wouldn't hurt myself even more that I tend to do quite often.

no matter how often I encounter the black silhouette or how long those encounters last, it never gets easier and I can never get used to the feeling of complete endless lingering emptiness, devastation, hopelessness, numbness... really after all this time I'm still unable to come up with the right (?) definition of that sickening feeling.

I hate the most how that feeling makes me afraid of opening up and being honest with the people I love dearly and doubt if they even want me or need me. when I'm depressed I am the most vulnerable and the most insufferable, 'cause I'm dying for attention and being cared for, but I feel so pathetic and insignificant that isolation and keeping my mouth shut seem to be the smartest decision ever, 'cause this way I am no anyone's trouble, but mine. besides, there are sooo many people whose suffering is way worse (it's a stupid thought I know, 'cause everyone's suffering is important, but I just cannot fully get rid of it).

I am okay with hurting, but I am not okay with the people I love to be hurt. I know that in a way I strip them off their right to choose for themselves. still it's better that way. I've long learned how to keep it all inside. sometimes it shows - usually when it is just too much to bear, but mostly I just put up with it going through my day as if nothing is out of ordinary.

the routine.

again.

being depressed is a nuance and sometimes it gets contagious. I don't like to be a nuance and I surely don't want to be a "deadly" infection bringing my loved once sadness and discomfort.

it is unhealthy, but at least I have smth to cling to like a baby clinging to their parents or toys I cling to my usual routine.

I am trying to speak up. I've already picked up the skill of notifying my friends that I'm falling deep down again. it's some kind of progress, right?

I mean I am posting this little confession of mine (more like venting out) here when everyone can see it and really it is the most sincere thing I've done in a while.

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#bipolar vent #bipolar disorder #bipolar depression #the pills aren't working rn it drives me mad it makes it worse #just very tired