Wet hair

Time to climb under my own hood for a bit. 

A lot of people don't understand how I can share so much about my thoughts and feelings.  How can I not?  It might help someone, or at the very least foster a little understanding. 

The Depakote has been a huge relief for me: no more mixed depressions.  They are hideous, wound up and despairing at the same time.  Galloping thoughts and hopeless.  Driven to do something, yet lacking energy. 

Now I'm back to an average depression.  You know what?  They still suck. 

They don't suck, like a mixed depression.  We'll call that an 8 on a 1-10.  This is more of a 6. 

It's still a 6. 

Right after my diagnosis, I came up with an elaborate rating scale, plus 10 to minus 10.  I've forgotten it now. 

I'm still walking around with a hole in my soul.  It's not infected, but it's there.  God will heal me, one day, in the meantime I slap bandages of medication and lifestyle on top of it and try to go on with my life. 

I got to thinking about this; because I didn't take a shower yesterday, and haven't yet today.  It's almost bedtime.  Clearly, I need to fix that. 

I was able to find my tea tree oil, so I'll throw a few drops in the bath before I take my shower.  I have a little skin issue. 

A lot of "civilians" think I just need the right medication, the right amount of medication, therapy, whatever, and I will function as they do.  No. 

It doesn't work that way, at least not for my illness.  I'd like nothing more than to live a nice, boring, life.  I'd like to make plans a week ahead of time and know I'll be able to accomplish them. 

Doc told me, years ago "We can manage the peaks and valleys, but you'll still go up and down".  When I'm manic, it's great.  I'm fine with being manic, at least where I am at the ideal lithium level.  I talk a lot, do a lot, and have to watch my spending.  I can do a lot of evangelism, housework, spend quality time with Ron and the cats, and catch up with all the family. 

Not so much when I'm depressed "I took a shower, went to work, and did a load of laundry.  The backyard looks awful and Ron's bored, but I did that." 

I credit my medication for the ability to work and do the laundry.  A good example, the bedsheets. 

This is not going anywhere above a rated G.  I have cotton bedsheets.  I like them.  However, I can't remember the last time I washed them - actually, I do.  A few days before Bubba died, he threw up a hairball in my bed.  I was manic, and easy to wash and change the sheets. 

That was a month ago.  Depressed, I've been sleeping on the same sheets every night.  They aren't apparently dirty, but I'm sure some of you are saying "Oh, yuck." 

Ron just woke up, and I talked to him for a bit.  His shirt was off, and he laid down in bed and rolled onto his stomach.  I was admiring his left arm and shoulder - they are nicely muscular.  All that stocking has made for a very manly arm and shoulder. 

I focus on the positive.  In fact, when he went to the doctor, I filled out the paperwork.  I completely forgot to mention his blindness.  I didn't even consider it a problem. 

So, I've got a load of brightly colored t-shirts in the wash.  When I get them in the dryer, I need to put the sheets in the washer, and put clean sheets on the bed (I have them, I just haven't "stocked" them).  I also need to take the clean stuff off the top of the dryer and put it away.  I'm missing some things I need and I know I washed the items. 

There goes the washer, and I'm off.  Wash the sheets, bath, let my hair dry, and go to bed. 

I hate sleeping on wet hair.