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Just Like Clockwork : Back in the Mire

In 1998 it was bi-polar type II. In 2012 it was Major Depressive Disorder with Anxiety. Now in 2024 it's bi-polar type III (which I didn't even know existed). Is this a cycle thing? A result of supressing the whole COVID thing? Left over hormonal menopause issue? How did I end up here again---off work---depressed and anxious, in the ER---weighing my options between swallowing a million pills or carving up my wrists in the tub.
I don't want to be like this. Which turns into I don't want to be. It's a scary shit show and every place I seek help is throwing darts at a possible medicinal solution to get me back to my overperforming, perfectionist, self back on the stage at the front of a classroom. "You can't expect medicine to solve it all!" Yeah, I can hear you thinking that. I've been in therapy for six months now---as often as once a week and am currently juggling two therapists as I try something new. I used to know this stuff. I regularly advocate for this stuff. I TEACH this stuff in my classes for crying out loud. But now the words, the ideas, the strategies, I can't access them. They don't live in my brain any more. I have spent the last few days reviewing posts from my blog, from so long ago and hear the voice of stranger. Sure she sounds like she's got some stuff going on, but her words talk about meditation, reslience, connection, community and I can't find myself in there. It's eerie to read your own words and not be able to find a place inside you where they sound true. It all sounds like propaganda, some new age hype crap that pops up on your Insta.
When I look around me, all I see on this go-round is people doing things, lots of things, creative things, hard labour, intellectual things, all while seeming fine. They do "all the things" and also travel to exotic places, go camping up north, attend professioal development events in other provinces and smile while cooking summer feasts in the backyard. Sure, you're thinking everyone only posts the good stuff. Stop comparing! But my front window reveals people washing their cars, using elaborate garden gadgets to trim and tidy, walkers with ear buds, families with strollers and dogs. Everyone seems normal, which makes me feel even worse. How is it no one is running through the streets screaming about how life is painful and short and messy and you could die any minute or live in pain and misery for too long? How is everyone tolerating how broken the medical system is---overloaded and sinking----no lifeboats anywhere. Everyone I know is telling me to be patient, observe and don't get attached to feelings, find the flow and they promise with every ounce of their being that it will get better and that I have been here before and got out of it. So I have to trust them. Because I certainly don't trust myself.

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