God, Therapy, and Depression

I’m crashing.  It’s not a long fall but I am falling.  It started when the neuro said my problem was that I was manic.  How dare he?  He’s not a <bleep> shrink.  Was that only last week?  No, two weeks, I think.  I can’t remember.  Time is blurred for me.  I met my new therapist on Tuesday.  Nice girl.  She asked me a bunch of questions, and raised her eyebrows with shock at some of my answers.  I think she believes me. (I don’t make up crap about my life, there’s too much of it that is real.)  But I kept saying, “Wait, there’s more,” because there is.  I told her about how my father said he caught my mother trying to abort me with a coat hanger and when I confronted Mom, she didn’t deny it.  But I didn’t tell her that my mother took me to church to meet her lover and made me swear not to tell my father.  (They were still married at the time.)  Yes, this is true.  Trust me, I’m not creative enough to make this <bleep> up.

Ah well, she seems like a nice girl, we’ll see if she can help me.  Lord knows, I can’t.

She asked if I was spiritual; if I went to church.  I told her that God and I aren’t on speaking terms.  He gave up on me so I gave up on him.  I’m not sure that is entirely true, because I do sometimes think of God.  Anyway, I said we haven’t been talking since 2003.  She asked why 2003?  That’s the year that I went totally, completely, jumping on the bed, painting at 3am, manic (thank you Paxil!)  I scared my husband, my friends, even my cats.  I was diagnosed with bipolar, (probable) MS, and I lost my job that year.  I wracked up so much debt in 2003 & 2004 that I am just now coming out of it, but I’m looking at losing another job.  What the hell is wrong with me?  Is it because I don’t talk to God?  If I need something, I ask my friends to pray.  I figure they have a better chance at getting a good reply than I do.

Why do I say that I am crashing?  Because I feel like I am falling.  Like in the movies or something where you watch someone topple off the end of a diving board backwards in slow motion.  That’s me.  I am feeling sad & alone.  I am alone.  I don’t even know if anyone reads this blog.  I am really lucky to have a wonderful husband, but he is my sole support network.  I have a few friends scattered here & there who know I am bipolar, but they don’t seem to have time for me.  Most my closest friends don’t know.  It’s like my bipolar is a dirty secret that I must keep to myself.  If these friends are so close, why don’t I tell them?  Because I fear they won’t like me or trust me anymore.  Who would let a crazy lady watch their kids?  I couldn’t handle another lost friendship.  I really can’t risk anyone at work knowing about my condition, and my closest friends here are those I made at work.

I fell asleep last night ~8pm.  Woke up for a few hours around 1 or 2am, then went back to sleep at 4am and slept until 11.  By my estimation, that’s about 12 hours of (interrupted) sleep.  I normally go around 6-7hrs.  So I think I’m falling into a depression.


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