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Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Apathy of Depression

I spend a lot of my in a low or depressed mood state.

People with Bipolar 2 experience significantly longer periods of depression than those suffering with Bipolar 1, as well as more severe all-encompassing depression. Bipolar 2 sufferers spend more than 50% of their life in a depressed or "low" mood state so not only are they low more than they are hypomanic, they are depressed more than they are neutral or "normal".

In some people this can be greatly improved by treatment and medication. In others, like myself, the depression is "treatment resistant" and the medications that help so many other Bipolar 1 and 2 sufferers do nothing to ease the pain. Add in some rapid cycling (moving very quickly between states of hypomania and depression) and the horror of mixed states (an indescribable state of depression and hypomania existing concurrently, often accompanied by extreme anxiety, anger, and instability) and you have a recipe for disaster.

Rapid cycling is exhausting. Mixed states are confusing, terrifying, and destructive, as well as exhausting. And depression that hangs on and just won't let go will make you wish you were never born, no matter how hard you try to fight.


That is where I sit right now. In a depressed state that just won't let go. I have been fighting it for months and I just don't seem to be able to crawl out of the hole. I have peeked my head out for a few days at a time here and there only to get dragged back down and beaten senseless by the sadness and hopelessness. I am exhausted beyond any typical definition of the word. I have been fighting negative, destructive, critical emotions for months now and have come to a place where I just have nothing left.

I am not a danger to myself, I haven't given up in that way. I have reached a far more painful state where I'm alive, but I have given up on myself and the hope of ever being any different, or any better. Long-term depression eventually settles in and creates a feeling of complete apathy that is so consuming  it is nearly impossible to even move. I've had days in the past week where, while confined to my bed, it took everything I had just to be able to lift my head. Even when I am able to get up and move around it doesn't do much good as I have lost interest in everything. I have lost interest, lost focus, and nearly lost all hope.

The only bright spot in my life is my daughters. I talk to them daily and I am almost certain that is the only reason I am not yet catatonic and hospitalized.


All the things I normally enjoy have become dull. All the tools I used to use to boost my mood hold zero joy so I am physically and mentally unable to even think of forcing my sad ass to get up and do them.

I feel defeated. I feel deflated. I feel empty and hollow.

I feel sadness. I feel despair. I feel pain and exhaustion that is absolutely indescribable.

And yet at the same time I am numb. I feel hurt, but somehow I don't feel anything at all. It's like I'm not even really here. Like I'm floating around in a nightmare, experiencing hell but not really registering or appreciating fully what is going on.


Forget goals at this point. Forget dreams and success and decisions and direction. I don't even know who or what I am anymore. It is as if the disease has taken over and I am merely a shell for it to walk around, and cause damage in.

I am a walking conundrum of numb pain.


I have given up, lost hope, and to be honest I really don't care. Not about myself at least. I have become a prisoner to this depression. A prisoner serving a life sentence, with no possibility of parole, who has run out of appeals. At this point in time death row would be a less painful place to be. Except for the guilt. The guilt of knowing that I cannot do that to my daughters. I cannot hurt them like that, and risk them suffering because of my illness.

So here I sit. Unable to move, barely able to breathe. Trying just to hold on until the next time I can see them, the next time I can text them or talk to them. Spoiling them with gifts and promises due to the guilt I feel for not being the mother they deserve.

But there is nothing left of me. Any thing I was or ever wanted to be is lost or hiding, and I don't know where to even begin to look. And even if I did know, I'm too damn tired to look. And it is getting to the point where I really just don't care. I honestly just don't care anymore.

1 comment:

  1. Ah cris, ish I could reach out and hug you. You're so hard on yourself. It's not our fault that we have this disorder, so don't beat yourself up so much. Take one day at a time. There are good days, and there are bad days. There are times when the bad days outway the good, and then sometimes it's the other way around. You need to forgive yourself for being sick and start congratulating yourself for the good things you do. ie writing, talking or texing or being there for your girls as much as you can (how old are they anyway?) and most important, for being strong enough to keep up the fight, despite the overwhelming darkness.

    I care about you Cris. I feel bonded to you in some way. We are so much alike, and sometimes it feels like I might have written your posts. Actually, not some times. Most times.

    Keep fighting, and keep writing.

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