Bipolar

We got home from work and he grabbed ahold of me and held me; tears welling up in his eyes he said “I should be the strong one, but it’s you, you’re the strong one,” then asked me to have Alexa play “Atlas Falls” by Shinedown. All the while he held me, sobbing.

Depression

is

REAL.

Bipolar – type 1

is

REAL.

Mental Health

is

REAL.

Algorithms of medication and therapy and techniques to try to beat the system. “Here, take this” “here try this” “Let’s increase your dose….let’s increase your dose…let’s increase your dose.” Then there you are a Zombie.

Work; trying to just function in a high function job. "I can’t take medication or else I lose my job, I lose everything. I’ll take myself off medication; that’s what I’ll do – then I can do my job! I functioned for years without medication, I was able to do just fine. I can do it again."

"They hate me."

"They don’t like me."

"Why do they constantly question me."

"I’m having anxiety, or a heart attack.. my arm is numb."

"Why are they able to get along with each other and not me."

"What is wrong with me…"

"What….. is wrong with me."

"I hate myself, I can’t even do my job, I can’t be a good husband, I can’t be a good dad. I hate me…"

"I want to die, just die. I want to just die, why do I put myself through this."

"Please, let me know…. Let me take my pain away. I’ll take pills, I’ll shoot myself, there’s 6 million ways to die, all I have to do is choose one."

"But then......there’s her…. She’s my light, she’s my world. I depend on her so much, why do I depend on her so much? She needs a break, she needs a break from me. Inside I’m telling her it’s okay to go for a walk, but out of my mouth I’m screaming “DON’T LEAVE ME” and she stays. I am so weak, why does she put up with me, why does she love me? She’s got so much weight on her shoulders. Does she cry when I’m sleeping? Of course she does, why wouldn’t she. She deals with me, she deals with our son, she deals with work, she deals with the house. Other men…. other husbands, they make me look so weak, so worthless. I want to help her, I’m going to help her with the dishes.. oh god, I’m paralyzed, I can’t move. Stupid anxiety, why am I anxious about the stupid dishes? I’m so worthless. But she does them, with a smile on her face, she doesn’t complain, she smiles at me and kisses me. This woman, she loves me so much… WHY!!!!! I could make her life so much easier if I weren’t in it. She’d be so much happier with someone other than me. NO – I’m going to make her happy. I’m going to try harder… I’m going to…. I’m paralyzed again. I can’t move."

"I can’t breathe."

"I’m drowning."

"I have work again tomorrow. I have to prove myself again, they hate me, I know they do. They’re good guys, I can get along with them, maybe if I try…. Maybe if I start a conversation. How? What do I say? I’m so awkward; I just want to get along with my team, but I don’t even like myself, I hate myself. How can I expect others to like me? My confidence, I miss it. I used to take on the world, now; now I feel so worthless."

The tear soaked Kleenex…… the songs that speak my words, the shame I feel deep inside. I should be the strong one.