Confession

It's 3 a.m. and I can't sleep. I've tossed and turned for two hours with thoughts and words running through my head. So I decided to turn my computer on and write them down.

I have a confession to make:

I'm not ok.

I don't know if it's the meds I'm on. I don't know if its the normal low cycle of my bi-polar depression. I don't know if maybe it's because I am emotionally drained from my daughter's wedding. Or if maybe it's because the hot flashes have started and maybe there's more hormonal crap interfering with my already addled brain because menopause is starting.

What I do know is that I am not ok.

I am afraid to answer my phone or answer texts. People are hard to be around. Getting out of bed and getting my kids to school on time feels impossible. Printing off my son's kindergarten homework seems like a monumentally difficult task, not to mention having the patience to help him with it, no matter how bright and quick to learn he is.

I told my husband earlier that I hoped tomorrow would be a good day. And he said, "then make it good."

Let me try to explain why that is frustrating to hear.

I have no control over how I feel about the day, about life in general, or about getting up. I cannot control my ability to be happy and feel - bone deep - the joy that comes from feeling the sunshine or hearing fun music. I cannot fix the gloom that hangs over my head.

I can fight the fight. I can do what I can to interrupt the negative tape that plays in my head, or the grumpy and irrationally angry thoughts that appear out of nowhere. But I cannot control thinking those thoughts to begin with.

And how I'm feeling right now is that fighting that internal battle is taking up all of my energy. The school wants me to volunteer time in my kids classes. Help the kindergarten with reading. Help the 2nd graders with math. Help the 5th graders with anything and everything. And now that I have no little ones at home, I have the time in the afternoons to help.

I know I have the time. And plenty of guilt to go with it that I have no desire to do it. Not because I don't love my kids or appreciate their teachers. No, but because I already feel I am at my breaking point, and I just can't. I can't. I can't drive to the school extra times during the day. I can't leave my room and deal with people I don't know.

I know that sounds ridiculous and selfish, but it's simply the truth. Currently, I am honestly, truly, NOT ok. I don't have the flu or a cold or a broken leg. I had surgery way back in April, so it's not anything physically visible. It is simply the fact that my brain and my feels are messed up.

I don't feel comfortable doing more than making myself step outside and go for a short walk. Or to visit a friend who lives close and is a good enough friend they don't feel like 'people'. I just... I don't know. I don't feel like I can face life right now.

Now, I KNOW that sometimes I have to get out of my comfort zone to function. But here's the thing: When I got out of the psyche ward in April, I felt alive. I was excited. It wasn't easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. The meds made life crazy, along with my uterine issues and the hysterectomy. But I was drawing. I was photoshopping. I was painting and creating with my hands. I hoped I'd be back to writing when my brain calmed down and the dizzies and the other side effects from the drugs were worked out.

Here I am, it's the end of September. Five months after April and I dread picking up a pencil or opening photoshop. When I force myself to create, because I have to learn to adapt to my new brain, nothing comes out the way I want. Or even recognizable as what I want. I can see it in my head. I know and have the tools to make that a reality, but it doesn't work. Nothing works.

What changed? Hell if I know. Between then and now, something broke.

I care enough to be frustrated by it, but not enough to try to fix it. Which doesn't make sense to me, because I usually work at a puzzle until I can figure it out. But right now I see the problem, and it's a big enough problem I've thrown my hands up and curl up in a ball in my room and hide from it. Because I don't know how to fix it or how to even begin.

I know that I don't feel like I can function. Some days I wonder why I bother trying. Which could be a bad sign, but I promise, this low isn't nearly as bad as the low in April. It's a low, and I recognize it for what it is, but I can't for the life of me see the remedy. All I can do is fight to stay *here*. In the present, in the now, and where I'm available for my family and kids.

I can put on a face, smile at people. Joke and laugh. I can attempt to be responsible and involved. But it takes so much energy that I am drained afterwards to the point where I collapse and sleep. Then wake up at midnight and can't get back to sleep for the worry and guilt over all the things I should have done. Could have done.

Right now what I feel like I *CAN* do is find things I am honestly truly grateful for. I can be happy that good things are happening to people I love. I can hug and support and cry with those who are having their own struggles and lows in life. I can try to have a good attitude --even toward those who think I have control over how much sunshine I feel in my soul.

But I can't be fine just because I want to be. I can't change the battle. I can't change the fact that I have to fight. I can't not dread tomorrow and the not knowing how I'll feel come morning or how much energy I will have.

I can't change the fact that I'm not ok.