I've had a fair number of slow climbs and lightening fast plunges over the last year. I have incredible, sunny days with a great outlook and so much hope, only to be followed by a stretch of days where I have to talk myself out of bed. It's maddening and so hard to know what is real.
I've slipped back into a dark spot, although I'm determined not to let it become a place of isolation. I've learned so much, in the past year, about my illness, my reactions to it, and some of the things I can do to combat it. I don't believe I will ever fall so far as I did this last time. Instead, I find myself in the torturous circle, questioning every mediocre day as attributable to depression and every bright moment as recovery.
I am aware of my changing moods and that is learned behavior. Even when numbness creeps in, as I have noticed has happened over the past weeks, I can recognize it. I'm healthy enough to ask, "What can I do?" rather than to simply succumb and shut down.
The things that make sense for me to do require more motivation to accomplish than I can muster. This is a common complaint among those with depression. We know what to do, we just can't manage to get it done. For example, I know that getting up before the kids and exercising every morning would improve my motivation throughout the day, but getting up before I HAVE to (because my kids aren't yet up to badger me out of bed) seems like an insurmountable chore.
I know that if I could exercise more patience with my children throughout the day, the whole day would be more enjoyable . . . for all of us. I want to, but I just have such a short fuse. I want to wake up in a good mood. I want to play with my kids. I want to feel satisfied that what I do on any given day is enough. I want to know that when I have a bad day that it's either just a bad day or it's depression reemerging.
I just don't know and it's a roller coaster.