There is someone very stubborn in my head who keeps me from laying down and taking naps when I need them most. When I am so depressed that I think the sky is falling down on my head and I can hardly drag myself off the chair to walk the dog or find the enthusiasm to make myself a mug of coffee. When I am so down that I think there is no purpose to get up off that chair at all and to just sit there mindlessly forever staring into the middle distance with nothing but feelings of dread in my head. Somebody in my head prevents me from having the good thought to go lie down and go to sleep. It is like that knowledge is hidden away in a dark area of the attic of my mind then and I can not see it, but only accidentally stumble upon it when I finally make it to the sofa to watch the news and subsequently fall asleep and feel 100% better when I wake up.
It's such a simple solution to a big problem, but I am reinventing the wheel every day and relearning this lesson every day, and that is that I must sleep when I am down and out and I feel at the end of my rope. When I have no coping skills left, I must sleep. When my thoughts turn morbid, I must sleep. After I have slept, there has been a shift to the positive side of things and suddenly the glass is half full again and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I feel like walking the dog and I feel like doing a load of laundry and I feel like blogging and generally just being a good egg.
You would not believe how hard it is to live with a mood disorder that takes place several times a day, because you forget who you were in each different mood. When you are down, that's all you know and you don't remember feeling anything else. When you are up, you trivialize your down mood and don't take it seriously anymore, even though it may have cost you your life. They are so extreme in nature.
I was so down today, that I was glad that Eduard had taken away every hobby knife that's in the apartment and that it would be useless for me to go looking for one. That was a relief. It took the decision out of my hands, otherwise there would have been the temptation.
I have a book called, "Self Damage Made Understandable," and I am in it quite extensively, because I was one of the people who was a subject for the book. It's my dubious moment of fame. I am also in another book, but because this coincided with my son's death, I can't find my copy of it now and I can't even remember the title. I'll have to track it down somehow.
I have noticed very often, that my long term memory is very bad and that there are events that I have partially or completely forgotten, or don't remember the outcome off. They are just little snips of film in my memory with no beginning and no end. A lot of things are permanently lost. It's a little bit like being demented for certain periods of my life. Or having amnesia for portions of it.
I changed my clothes again half way through the day and went from demure to a little bit hippy style, I got these baggy trousers that have a built in skirt that I can wear my tunics over and wear leggings underneath for warmth. I wear a long sleeved tight T-shirt under the tunic for warmth and as a color accessory and a necklace, of course. I always wear the same earrings and those are the little titanium studs that my daughter got me so I will not have an allergic reaction.
Eduard and his brother were here this afternoon. It was a short visit, because for some reason his brother didn't have the patience to sit down properly and have a cup of coffee. Eduard had to download something from a website to a memory stick to fix his notebook and when he was done with that, his brother was ready to leave. I thought it was all kind of odd. I had expected a proper visit and one or two cups of coffee and some small talk, but there was none of that. Maybe his brother was uncomfortable with the situation, although neither I nor Eduard were. I sure didn't appreciate it and I must talk to Eduard about it and find out what was going on.
I saw my SPN this morning, but I'm afraid I was not in the proper mood to have a very productive discussion with her. The words wouldn't come, not did the thoughts and we only had half an hour. I always feel rushed when we have such a short amount of time and don't think I can start on anything important.
It's been a pleasure talking at you, but I must go. Read some more blogs and get ready to go to sleep. I bid thee adieu.