Oh, hello... Part 2 in Mental Health

I got to go to Detroit on Monday with my little dude to see my big dude in his first college concert band concert. It was amazing and didn’t last nearly long enough. We miss him lots. We got to take him out to dinner and shopping for essentials (you know, pizza rolls and laundry detergent), and see him perform and then watch the band he’ll be in next year. A fantastic concert, really impressive.

While having dinner, my older son mentions that his dad plans on taking my younger son to his mother’s for Thanksgiving. I haven’t talked to Sperm Donor in… I don’t know. Months. A long time. He hasn’t asked me if that would be okay, if I had plans, nothing. (I actually did have tentative plans, maybe…)

So I’ve been having these struggles at work, eh? And then I finally got my review yesterday. And a not-awesome thing happened, but it’s okay, really. (Really, really, okay? It’s okay. It’s done and over and okay.) Except it triggered me and brought me crashing down like an avalanche out of the manic episode I’ve been in for like a month. I have known for days that it was coming to an end, I knew what was coming, and I was not surprised.

And then, all the thoughts.

If I let Sperm Donor take little dude for Thanksgiving, I will spend Thanksgiving alone for the first time in my life. And I’m not real big on holidays, generally. I haven’t even done a turkey on Thanksgiving for several years, but we do a big meal and usually pie. I mean, you gotta have pie, right?

So, yeah. That was the first thought that crawled out of the woodwork of my brain last night, the thought that was the very first pebble of the avalanche of negative, self-loathing thoughts. I enjoy my solitude, you know? I really, really do. But… I mean, usually I have the option of solitude. Or, at least, it seems like I have a choice, you know? But this feels like I don’t have the option of choosing solitude. This is forced solitude.

And this is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my life.

Yeah, I don’t like that thought at all. I can recognize it for what it is. It is designed by my brain to create doubt. Doubt in myself, in my own worth, and doubt in others and the way they feel about me. It is a self-destruction mechanism disguised as a self-preservation mechanism. You know the idea, oh no, gotta protect myself, better isolate myself from everyone because they’re just going to hurt me and leave me in the end. Right? That’s not self-preservation, it’s self-destruction. I see clearly what is happening, where the thoughts come from, and why they come at all. And, if I can see it, if I’m aware of precisely what is going on, I can choose how I react to it.

Right?

Yeah, not really. I can choose how I react outwardly, but not how I react on a mental and emotional level. These thoughts cut like knives. They hurt, they leave marks that can only be felt and not seen, bruises so deep that they’re invisible to others unless I choose to show them. I have spent an entire life wearing a carefully constructed mask, a facade for the outside world, so no one outside a select few were privy to the storm that constantly rages inside me. But what inevitably happens after a time is that the facade starts to crack, it starts to break down. And sometimes, it shatters, and people are suddenly exposed to a completely different person, someone they don’t know, because it’s not me anymore. I used to keep my mental illnesses quiet, but I realized that it was fair to others, really. They should have some warning, you know? Hey, one day, for no apparent reason, I might completely fall apart, break down, cry, yell, walk away, go sit in a corner, something unexpected and likely very odd.

So I guess maybe that’s what this entry is. A warning. I am not well. I am volatile, unstable. I feel on very shaky ground right now, or like a feather at the edge of a cliff and the slightest breath can blow me right over the side. I am in no way saying that anyone should walk on eggshells, but only that I am not in perfect control of my emotions at the moment and I don’t want a sudden outburst from me to startle anyone.

These are the times I feel like I should isolate myself, cut myself off from all communication with the outside world. I feel like I am a… terrible burden. I do not want to inflict myself on anyone. I feel like an affliction. Well, I have an affliction, and I feel like, by exposing others to it, I am an affliction. Like a disease and I don’t want to infect anyone.

But the last thing I want to do is isolate myself because I am aware that a manic depressive state can be extremely dangerous for me. I am in control 99.9% of the time, but that doesn’t mean the thoughts aren’t there. There is a battle in my brain, you shouldn’t be alone right now vs. you shouldn’t inflict yourself on others right now.

Before bed, I scribbled in a little notebook:

More trouble
than I’m worth
Probably not true
for everyone
But true for
me sometimes

The sad, dark, true thoughts. I’m alone. I’m sad. I’m hurting. I’m confused. I do not like myself very much right now. I am disappointed in myself.

Also.

I am loved by many.
I am good.
I am intelligent.
I am capable.
I am worthy.