Finally doing something about too much sleep and depression. While in Mexico, I got up at dawn every day. It was a lot easier to get up early when I returned to Jackson Hole. I am backsliding a little but still up before ten.
I keep waiting for some chat or email to get me out of my funk. Emily (daughter 2) sent me an email with images of two pairs of glasses, asking my opinion on which she should buy.
I sent back a little drawing around one of the pairs of glasses. It made me laugh. I would post the image but I am at the wrong computer. WTF.
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Breaking the rules
I thought, for some reason, I could maintain my upper mood swing and get away with returning to my drinking lifestyle in tandem with sleeping in. Nine and half hours after four vodkas and here I am, defeating myself. That was four drinks in about six hours. No, really. Maybe even seven. Close to midnight.
And we are invited to the vodka people's house for dinner tonight and will doubtlessly drink some more. The depression is debilitating but I insist on doing things I know will exacerbate it. Also, I don't want to cook tonight.
I already told them I stopped drinking, or at least at home where I can control it. But I then assured them I knew what I was doing. He, (vodka friend) told me to call him whenever I felt depressed. He is thinking of it as if it were short term and got better with a little empathy/sympathy. He is good that way but I don't think I want to bring him into the whole bipolar thing. Going from drinking to not drinking socially or otherwise puts one in a different class. People treat you differently and stop inviting you over. Sometimes they indicate their rejection by asking you if you want a drink, then correcting themselves, "Oh, that's right, you're not drinking anymore." They have a new language they speak with you in front of others. Full of code. You make them uncomfortable.
later
And we are invited to the vodka people's house for dinner tonight and will doubtlessly drink some more. The depression is debilitating but I insist on doing things I know will exacerbate it. Also, I don't want to cook tonight.
I already told them I stopped drinking, or at least at home where I can control it. But I then assured them I knew what I was doing. He, (vodka friend) told me to call him whenever I felt depressed. He is thinking of it as if it were short term and got better with a little empathy/sympathy. He is good that way but I don't think I want to bring him into the whole bipolar thing. Going from drinking to not drinking socially or otherwise puts one in a different class. People treat you differently and stop inviting you over. Sometimes they indicate their rejection by asking you if you want a drink, then correcting themselves, "Oh, that's right, you're not drinking anymore." They have a new language they speak with you in front of others. Full of code. You make them uncomfortable.
later
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Bipolar and NOT drinking
When a day without drinking is like a day without dusk....I abstained last night. Do feel better this morning. Still hard to get up but "cheerier" if that is possible.
It's hard to let go of the depressed, desperate character I am so used to facing every morning. Some of bipolar is habit. You're so used to it that you create it if it isn't there.
Has to be a few days before anything concrete can be drawn from this experiment.
Presenting new work to client at 10:30am.
It's hard to let go of the depressed, desperate character I am so used to facing every morning. Some of bipolar is habit. You're so used to it that you create it if it isn't there.
Has to be a few days before anything concrete can be drawn from this experiment.
Presenting new work to client at 10:30am.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
It knows I have two blogs
One is about my bipolar disorder, which I often misspell.
I awoke with a hangover, a far cry from the morning before, awaking at six, after a night of minimal drinking. Energized with caffeine but teary sad. No suicide though. The comforting, or maybe just obvious thing is that I am still alive, meaning that I haven't yet succeeded in the deed.
Today I came up with the metaphor of a man lost at sea, consistently following a compass heading, hoping I will sight land soon, but knowing that until then, I am on the verge of foundering.
Liz, (spouse) is at a funeral for an acquaintance's son, who was struck by a car quite accidentally. Then she is committed to helping a friend for the afternoon. This was a surprise so I am left alone to fend for myself. I am alone all week so this is quite a letdown.
I should call a friend or acquaintance and hike or something. Instead I am wasting away the day brooding. Plan and backup plan.
I started some self-analysis by listing mental states, such as dread, regret, etc. then identifying them as past, present, future. This has expanded to things such as hangover (present but to be avoided in the future). It is somewhat therapeutic as I can read it later and remind myself of the fleeting reality of the past and future.
Hope this helps.
I awoke with a hangover, a far cry from the morning before, awaking at six, after a night of minimal drinking. Energized with caffeine but teary sad. No suicide though. The comforting, or maybe just obvious thing is that I am still alive, meaning that I haven't yet succeeded in the deed.
Today I came up with the metaphor of a man lost at sea, consistently following a compass heading, hoping I will sight land soon, but knowing that until then, I am on the verge of foundering.
Liz, (spouse) is at a funeral for an acquaintance's son, who was struck by a car quite accidentally. Then she is committed to helping a friend for the afternoon. This was a surprise so I am left alone to fend for myself. I am alone all week so this is quite a letdown.
I should call a friend or acquaintance and hike or something. Instead I am wasting away the day brooding. Plan and backup plan.
I started some self-analysis by listing mental states, such as dread, regret, etc. then identifying them as past, present, future. This has expanded to things such as hangover (present but to be avoided in the future). It is somewhat therapeutic as I can read it later and remind myself of the fleeting reality of the past and future.
Hope this helps.
Friday, July 10, 2009
less sleep
Before the wave of suicide imagery began this morning, I got up to let the dogs out to pee. We're trying to train them and this is step one in setting them up. How long I can do this I don't know.
My psychopharmacologist told me I am sleeping too much (what a surprise)—more than 12 hours a day. I don't even sleep really, just lay there, turning over again and again, avoiding the day. The suicide thing just gets worse while I burn up the hours.
When I did get up early, after three days I had a catharthis—mania set in—to a minor degree. I would rather have mania now than this depression.
I fueled the mania with espresso and roared along until about 2pm. Then things settled down. Needless to say, I got off the sleep program pretty quickly. I thought if I felt great, I could get away with "sleeping in." The pillow was warm and the lounging was deliciously decedent.
So here I am, ten to seven, espresso number three, hoping the caffeine doesn't push me into the awful, driven depression I go through when I am depressed and power the coffee.
My psychopharmacologist told me I am sleeping too much (what a surprise)—more than 12 hours a day. I don't even sleep really, just lay there, turning over again and again, avoiding the day. The suicide thing just gets worse while I burn up the hours.
When I did get up early, after three days I had a catharthis—mania set in—to a minor degree. I would rather have mania now than this depression.
I fueled the mania with espresso and roared along until about 2pm. Then things settled down. Needless to say, I got off the sleep program pretty quickly. I thought if I felt great, I could get away with "sleeping in." The pillow was warm and the lounging was deliciously decedent.
So here I am, ten to seven, espresso number three, hoping the caffeine doesn't push me into the awful, driven depression I go through when I am depressed and power the coffee.
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