Depression is difficult. I regret that I have not been posting more poetry. I have a backlog on my computer that I need to revise and post. I want to write more in my poetry journal.
This might sound silly, but I am waiting for the right time. In my head. Today I’ve been sitting down at my laptop looking over my poetry and trying to revise it, but it is as though my core is sleeping. My mind is somewhere else. I’m revising a little bit, but what I’m doing is just not that imaginative and I’m not pleased with it.
It’s not just poetry that has taken a backseat to depression. My novice visual art (not much to look at but I love doing it) has barely been touched. I even went out last week on a day when I felt like I could leave the house and drive, and bought art supplies, and I haven’t begun to touch the new supplies. My housework has taken a nosedive. My friend J came over today to clean and everything was a mess. My laundry is backed up. I haven’t showered in days. Today I had to get dressed in the living room because my load of clean clothes has been down there for days and I haven’t brought them upstairs. Sometimes I just sit and stare at the wall. I’m trying to be proactive and watch interesting or inspiring things on Netflix. I never know when something might light a fire in me. I try to read my favorite magazines, but sometimes I can’t enjoy the articles or images, and my eyes even glaze over at times.
My inlaws were here from Thursday to Sunday and I think they had a nice visit, but it took a lot of energy to try and be social and do a lot. We did some really fun stuff, but I’m worn out. When J came over to clean I didn’t say much. We did the first celebration for Angelica’s 5th birthday on Saturday with my inlaws. Thursday is her actual birthday. We will be celebrating again. I’m tired.
Bipolar is hard.
Write, paint, make collages, edit photos, study something new, read a book. I need to do something. I keep hoping that if I just sit down and do anything I’ll enjoy it or at least make progress, but it is so hard to get started. And the minute I begin to make the least littlest bit of headway I just stop. I can’t feel it. It isn’t a matter of discipline. I understand that you should always try and write or pursue something important to you daily, regardless of how you feel. But unhappiness is not the same as depression. My mind isn’t working right. I can work on stuff when I’m unhappy. I’ve done a lot while unhappy before. Right now though I’m struggling to string my mind together. It is as if someone could light me up with a match and I wouldn’t feel it.