What’s REALLY hard to deal with at the moment is the unpredictability of my illness.
At the beginning of the week, I’d come to the conclusion that I was right back in the grips of depression. Everything was too much: working, sleeping, cooking, cleaning, reading, socialising, talking to Ian, everything.
Hence why I begged my editors for a respite from work – a reduction in what they wanted from me this week. And why I emailed my CPN and asked if I could see her this week. And why I cancelled everything social that wasn’t absolutely essential.
I was fighting seriously dark thoughts and foreseeing another period of being really, really unwell.
And then today – I’m fine.
Not just better than yesterday, but feeling pretty much normal. Instead of having been curled up on my bed since Katie’s bedtime, I’m downstairs, watching TV, being human. I’ve not done any dramatic outpourings of emotion on anyone today. I sat in the park for an hour and chatted to people. I’ve done work that I’d said I couldn’t do this week because I felt in the right mental space for it.
I’m thankful for it, I really am. But I’m also confused. What is happening to my moods that I can swing from suicidal to perfectly okay within the space of 24 hours?
Okay, so maybe part of it is *because* I’ve done the right things this week in giving myself the mental time and space I needed. But I’m sure that’s not the whole story. And it’s really unsettling veering from one extreme to the other like this.
Apart from anything else, I feel like a total fraud. Last Sunday I was in tears at church. I had people offering prayer, visits, all that stuff. Tomorrow, I’m going to walk into Bible study with those same people, completely back to normal. It makes me think that everyone is going to think I’m putting it on for attention.
I’m 100 per cent certain that I’m not bipolar as my good times are nowhere near mania. But I just don’t know what’s going on. It’s something to discuss with the psych next week, I know – and I must make myself do it, and not just say everything’s fine. I’ve no idea whether this is a normal part of recovery, whether it’s indicative of a different diagnosis, or what.
I just wish I could wake up in the morning knowing how I’m going to feel.
Lucy's Depression Diary 