This post should go over to "Echoes of the Night," but I feel like more of you follow me here than there.
Fall is not a good season for me. It brings in the blues of depression, not the blues of springtime and flowers. Most depression can be walked off, talked off, or slept off. Mine makes me go deeper than that and lower than I ever want to go. Some people have dreams and nightmares. I become my nightmares.
Being Bipolar means I will probably read this tomorrow and say, "Why the hell did I post that? What was wrong with me?" I'm trying to learn to live in the moment and not beat myself about how I felt today. I know we control the moment. I still beat myself up for the past, and I have no control over the future (other than I believe it is in God's hands which provides a lot of comfort).
My manic bouts are minor and far and few between, it's the depression part that eats away at my innards. The guilt sets in when I realize how much I have - not possessions - but people that love me, healthy children (except for one, and that's due to choices he's made). I have a husband that loves me and never thinks of walking away from me when I'm ready to give up on myself. So, the thoughts come in playing around in my mind and taunting me: "What are you whining about?" I'm not whining - I'm running. I'm running from me.
(If you click on this, you should be able to see the little boat out in the middle. That's where I am tonight. I can see the harbor, and I am close to shore where I will find peace and drop my anchor.)