One of things that has been bothering me lately is that I am taking this unemployment situation with graceful composure. With the exception of a couple of down days, I’ve been working through this unemployment problem with no actual outward sign of mental illness. Although I am still laden with some depression and my Moodscope chart puts me in the teens in terms of emotional state, I am by all appearances, calm. Even behind closed doors. DH & I talked about this the other day. He was surprised that I am not more upset. He came home from work and told me how he was feeling stressed out over our situation. We hugged and talked… even with his admission, I remained oddly calm.
Is this me? Is it the real me? Am I hiding something from myself? Am I in denial? Or is the medication numbing me?
I talked with my new therapist about this yesterday. We didn’t come up with an answer, other than maybe my mind recognizes and accepts that this situation is not as bad as previously similar situations. This time I have savings (which will be eaten up quickly by my mortgage and COBRA), and I do not have a $450 a month car payment. But we do have a $300/mo student loan payment for my husband’s education that we didn’t have before. Our mortgage is $500 a month more, and my husband had a job with health insurance last time so we didn’t need to COBRA. Our medical and phone bills are certainly higher. Maybe we aren’t so much better off this time after all. Damn, why did I have to follow that train of thought?
This morning I began to feel a crack forming in my calm facade. A thin stream of mental instability shot through the opening. Maybe I am not as composed as I think I am. I’ve not been taking Klonopin because I am trying to avoid it whenever possible. Stubborn me, I’ll suffer before I ask for help. At least this time I have people to help me. My therapist might be young, but she is enthusiastic and genuine, whereas last time my therapist was only interested in dragging out my therapy and not focusing on things that would impact me immediately. The pdoc I had last time was nice, but he didn’t have the same amount of insight or time invested with me as my current pdoc. I have a better support network of friends now, even if none of them know I am bipolar. Last time, my friends abandoned me when I lost my job or perhaps just before because I scared them all away with my wild mania. Odd, isn’t it, how quickly people will turn tail and run rather than try to help?
I’m walking on paper-thin ice here. I fear the day it cracks and I fall into the dark cold of depression.
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