Tears at Home

Bipolar Disorder includes periods of deep sadness. It's just always been part of life for me. Today is no different. Children and marriage haven't changed this -- at all.

I was strolling around a blog that I like to check out sometimes, gigglesandgrimaces.com, and it was the push I needed to acknowledge -- yes, I'm depressed.

Bipolar Disorder includes periods of deep sadness. It's just a part of life.

I hate the d-word. I didn't always -- I think I learned to hate it from vague counselors and physicians many moons ago.

It can be hard to recognize what I prefer to call a lull or low. I hardly notice it myself. The medications I take generally carry me through much of the day -- keeping me relatively productive and coherent. In the quiet at night or whenever I sit still for a minute, it's there. Darkness. Tears that sit right behind the eyes, ready to flow as soon as a bit of silence allows.

It started out as numbness. I guess it usually does. Eventually, I notice a particular sadness -- which expands to everything.


It affects the kids. We have an effect on each other. Specifically, I can get pretty reclusive, and since any outside social dates take my initiation, the children miss out on time with friends.

Earlier in the day today I said that we might be able to take a walk after school work and lunch. I try hard not to say things like that if I don't mean it, and I fight to do what I said I would do. And it is that -- a fight.

We made it out -- visited friends even. It was really good for them. And me too. I found that 1. I don't have to accept the hermit lifestyle, despite my preference for it at times. 2. It's ok that I'm not the life of the party. And that's pretty mildly put. 3. The Lord hears me.

A fool could tell you that isolation is no cure for loneliness, but I have to tell you, it makes perfect sense to me.