You start by getting up in the morning. Even if you really don’t feel like it. Even if your covers seem like a good way to hide, realize putting them over you head when the sun shines through your blinds only makes the darkness more cultivating. It makes your mood more low, your aspirations for the day less likely. I think that’s the hardest part. Getting up even though every inch of you refuses to. Your ears refusing to hear your alarm. Your arms refusing to stretch. Your legs refusing to get up. Your mind refusing to think. Your soul refusing to hope. Even after you get up, your eyes will lay low and you wonder where to even start.
I always start by eating. It can be both a problem and solution. Although eating has always caused problems for me in the past, I know it’s one of the only ways to convince myself that getting up from my bed is somehow worth it. The first bite into a fresh juicy peach can somehow produce a small ray of light within my darkened perspective. Then a cigarette, because I need to get outside, even if it’s just for a few minutes so I can look up at the sun and feel the rays hit my face. That small hint of vitamin D extracted from the light causing a flutter of joy to thoughts of my day.
Realizing that I’ve been here before, that the darkness has overcome me and I’ve let it take over completely to the point of no return. To a point of hiding out for 24 hours only to regret it when I finally escape. I can’t let it do that. Not this time. Even as I type this, my bed is in the other room, my covers mangled and ready to confine me. I can’t even sit down on them, because I know what will happen. The little rays of sunshine I get from outside may not be enough. I have to go on a walk or something.
Yesterday I felt almost manic. I’m starting to wonder if I really am bi-polar or if it’s just another excuse for me to fall back onto my emotions when they’re repeatedly going up and down like this. A high high and a low low. That is my life. When things feel good, they’re extremely good. And when things get bad, fuck they get so bad. But, it’s not as bad as before and that’s what I have to remember.
Fuck. I just want to go back to bed.