Not sick anymore, the cold is gone. I lied, there’s still a cough, but this is definitely the fastest cold I’ve had in a while. I came home for a few days to visit.
Depression is a funny presence. My sister says things when I’m home with her like how she thinks getting sick is all a mental game and how when she just takes zinc tablets when she feels she’s getting a cold, that the cold goes away and never manifests. She thinks a lot of it is a placebo effect and if she can convince herself she doesn’t have a cold, that her body always stops being sick.
Sometimes when I come home, I lose track of time by leaving my phone in my bedroom all day and only spending my time beside my mom in the garden or running errands with my dad. Losing track of time and days is easy and though it helps lessen general stress, it doesn’t take away depression.
It’s funny to me because I used to be so in denial of the bipolar. I used to think it was a misdiagnosis or that mine wasn’t so bad and I didn’t need medication. I used to think I could be two different people; the one who had bipolar and suffered and the one who was still an independent and carefree daughter. I want to say this thinking was during the time I was still hiding my diagnosis from my family, but I felt this even recently, this need to keep my diagnosis separate from my inner definition.
Part of it is fully accepting the sex abuse and rape and true sexuality and that there’s trauma there that isn’t processed or sorted out yet. Part of it is all the realizations and becomings and general experience in now living with this diagnosis for a few years and knowing how I respond or how long these episodes generally last.
I know that when I’m depressed it lasts at least a month. I know my hypomania in full force lasts only a few days, but with high stress, can reoccur several times a year. I know that between episodes I will have mood swings between irritable and angry feelings. I know that I’m generally harsher towards my family because I trust them but also because I don’t trust them.
I know my bipolar doesn’t go away with positive thoughts.
I’m still depressed and being home doesn’t stop that. Hiding my phone all day doesn’t make me happier. Not taking antipsychotics doesn’t lessen my daily headache. Being surrounded by people doesn’t make me feel less alone. It doesn’t make me forget I have depression or bipolar or desperately need to talk to a counselor.
I know myself pretty well these days. Coming home doesn’t fix or even mask my problems. Sometimes home amplifies them. I’m coming off my cold but still in a depressed episode. Still, it feels better knowing myself even if I don’t like what I have.