Mental Health: Tired of Me

Sometimes, I feel bad for Rick. Because depression is nonsensical, I cannot put into words why I feel the way I do on blue days, and he’s just subject to whatever my brain serves up that day. He wants to help, and cannot, which makes him feel powerless. I want him to be able to help, but cannot connect solution to source. When there aren’t guaranteed steps to take to make my brain shift back to something at least tinged with joy, I feel like a racket. Then, I project my insecurity onto Rick, deciding for him that he’s tired of me and my wealth of issues. He brought a lot into our marriage, and sometimes I feel like I only brought bad stuff. I cannot understand why someone would want to stick around me for life. How exhausting. I don’t even want to stick around me for life. I’m exhausting. And exhausted.

At the tail end of a recent blue day I asked Rick, “Wait, is this why my parents say you’re the answer to their prayers? Cause you took me off their hands?” which cracked us both up. At that point I was starved for a smile.

I know I’m funny, or whatever, but then I think about the other things I am: controlling, bossy (in a bad way), uptight, orderly, sad, someone who sleeps for 12 hours regularly, picky. Basically anything that could be deemed exhausting, I am. My brother and I were talking the other day, and he was going through it that day, too. We agreed that there’s a tightrope we have to walk across every day. If we don’t have our meds, good sleep, quality food, alone time, and a work out we lose our balance and the whole dam breaks loose. Everything you’ve been keeping at bay floods in and you have to grab a life preserver. Sometimes that’s 13 straight hours of sleep. Sometimes it’s three stiff cocktails. Sometimes it’s eating a cheese board meant to share, even though your body doesn’t respond well to cheese… but enough about me. Sometimes it’s legal drugs, sometimes it’s illegal drugs. When you’re grasping to survive, unideal things bob up to the surface, something to grab for a moment to simply make it through. It’d be so, so easy to let that life preserver pass you by and accept your drowned fate. I think that’s what happens when people lose their battle with mental illness. They’re just too tired to grab onto that life preserver, if there even is one, because they know they’ll dip down, pop back up, and have to restart everything all over again.

Sometimes relationships get marred, and sometimes jobs are lost. Sometimes weight balloons, and sometimes loved ones are concerned because you don’t have it in you to answer a text or call. Lifting your head and squinting at a blinding phone screen taps your energy. The more you need to do something to move forward, the harder it becomes to do that one imperative thing. Whether it’s making that call you desperately need to make to a boss, friend, parent, sibling. Whether it’s getting on the yoga mat or elliptical because you know it’ll make you feel better. Whether it’s avoiding writing like the plague, or drafting posts for Bummed Out Bailey instead of piecing together and reworking my thesis and book proposal. The latter is the classic writer’s plight, I guess. But! It’s nonsense to want something so badly, for me it was to have these school years to write full time, and then when you’re gifted with this incredibly privileged opportunity you freeze. It’s infuriating. It’s exhausting.

Some days, I’m just tired of me.

Wednesday posts cover something that’s top of mind for me that week and are written in a short period of time. This means that editing is not strong. While it’s not my best work, it is my best, unfiltered thought.

More on Bummed Out Bailey:
Mental Health: Special
Mental Health: New Year Goal Mapping
Mental Health: Location, Location, Location

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If you or someone you know needs help right now, please call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Mental Health: Spiral

Please know that before I get on Bummed Out Baker to write I always prioritize working with my family and psychiatrist to stabilize myself. I wouldn’t be on here if I hadn’t first confirmed my safety.

I started feeling blue yesterday. I was up most of the night before unable to sleep and, after a full morning and early afternoon, I took a three hour nap. I almost always get into a funk if I sleep for that long mid-day, but it’s either that and hopefully salvage some quality work time in the evening or doing weird, unproductive things all day due to exhaustion. When I’m under-slept I operate like I’m drunk. There’s really not a stellar option available to me in these circumstances.

The blueness carried over to today. I got on the yoga mat – I challenge myself to not let more than two days go by without yoga so I don’t accidentally let the habit slip away from me. Today was day three, so I knew I needed to do it. Of course, exercise is also one of the boxes I try to check off when I’m trying to resolve a bout of depression, but as anyone with major depressive disorder knows, it’s not always so easy.

In the yoga intro Adriene said that that practice was for if you feel “meh” physically or emotionally. At the end, in child’s pose, she said “hopefully you feel a little better,” but I didn’t. In that moment I got more introspective and upset. What’s it like to not be at the mercy of your erratic feelings? What’s it like to be steady, the same person every day, without the hindrance of mental illness? What’s it like to be able to maintain productivity without having dips in your mood, effecting your work output and the quality of interactions with loved ones? I became disheartened. I became nauseous.

I have these days where, inside my head, I lament the idea that I will be like this for the rest of my life. Some days, it’s hard to stay positive. It’s hard to go through the reparative motions over and over, to explain to my spouse and friends that I’m not my best self that day and “maybe next time.” It’s hard to apologize for something I can’t help, and it’s hard to forgive myself for the same.

I sleep a lot because I don’t like being conscious. I like “going away.” When I’m asleep I’m not having or not having a “blue day,” I just am. I’m not disappointing anyone or myself, and I’m not getting lost in a spiral of devastation, knowing I will always be at the mercy of my brain. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be able to take it for the rest of my life.

Sometimes, I just spiral.

Written Saturday, October 26, 2019.

More on Bummed Out Baker:
Mental Health: No, You Don’t “Have Anxiety”
Mental Health: Weigh Gain and Mental Medications
Mental Health: In Motion

Wednesday posts cover something that’s top of mind for me that week and are written in a short period of time. This means that editing is not strong. While it’s not my best work, it is my best, unfiltered thought.

Do you love Bummed Out Baker? Want to help keep it going? Support here. Your contribution means more than you’ll ever know.

To subscribe to Bummed Out Baker by email, scroll all the way down to the bottom of the website to find the form. Follow Instagram for behind-the-scenes panic attacks and my begrudging, meat-eating husband captured in the wild, Facebook for mental health articles and discussion, and Twitter for sassy or informative tweets.

If you or someone you know needs help right now, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.