No, I am not talking about farts, although my dog Joe most definitely lets some righteous SBD’s go that almost require gas masks. He is so stinky that he “shares his air” and then gets up from wherever he is lounging and goes to a clean air zone. But I digress.
The silent but deadly that I am referring to is choosing to be silent about negative feelings and emotions and the deadly consequences that can have.
I can’t stand negativity. I try putting a positive or humorous spin on things whenever I can. The downside to this is sometimes I do not allow myself to be “me” and walk through specific emotions or feelings. I can CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) situations to death. Glass half full. Joke away depression. But on the inside I still feel like curling up in a ball and sobbing.
This hormonal imbalance and the depression that has come with it sucks ass! I am starting to feel like Sybil, with multiple personalities. I’m on an emotional high, everything is peachy and then BAM, sobbing because all my lady parts are gone and I can’t have anymore babies. (I had my tubes tied 10 years ago, so more babies went out the window long before the hysterectomy!) A few days ago, I lost it and cried because I ran out of milk. Can you say “basket case”?
I know I need to process through the emotions or they will manifest in some other way, like anger. My poor hubby is nearing Sainthood with what he is putting up with. Hats off to him. This up and down exercise is screwing with my recovery program as well.
My morning prayer and meditation have been reduced to, “God please help me. Thanks. Amen.” And then reading the Daily Reflections. I have to read it 3 or 4 times to comprehend because my mind is racing with nonsense. I am very grateful for many of the AA one-liners:
- Back to basics
- Keep it simple
- One day at a time
- Progress not perfection
These have been a staple in my haphazard brain lately. I can tell that the hormone replacement therapy is helping because the depression is lifting slowly. It’s not all day, every day and certainly not as dark and scary as it was 2 weeks ago. My Bipolar is trying to have some fun with me now. I know that’s just a wave I have to ride and when the manic hits, journal and treat myself with kid gloves because that’s when I am susceptible to counterproductive behavior.
For those of you old enough to remember, Gloria Estefan had a hit song years ago titled, “Coming Out of the Dark”. That’s what keeps playing in my head. I am coming out of a very dark place. By the grace of God, I have a wonderful support system that has held me up during this ICKY ordeal.
As long as I don’t stay silent, my thoughts and actions won’t get deadly. Dual diagnoses is no laughing matter. I am blessed that I can laugh at myself but when I fake it I am just being a fool. When I choose to ignore or run away from feelings and emotions instead of facing them the disease starts winning. Cunning, baffling and powerful. Walking through the stuff means I am not stuffing it down to have it ambush me later. A very dear friend always tells me, “You don’t have to get through it gracefully, you just gotta’ get through it. And I AM.
WHAT A LIFE!