Bipolar Disorder, Uncategorized

The Fight: Depression and Anxiety

bed blanket female girl
Photo by Tirachard Kumtanom on

I lay on my bed and think, while my head is buried in my pillow.

I think about forcing myself to get my body out of my bed and how much I really didn’t want to, not one single ounce of me wants to “wake up”.

I set a time limit for how long I’m allowed to lay in bed before the evacuation out of bed needs to happen.

When the time comes around, I slink out of bed, with the promise of hot coffee waiting for me in the kitchen.

By the second cup of coffee, it is now time for nourishment via a glorious blueberry muffin.

And then I sit.

I tinker on my phone.  Make a few posts, send a few emails, type out a few texts, all while trying to mentally overcome this heavy feeling of not want to do anything (like anything in that sitting and staring at the wall seems like the most perfect thing to do), other than climbing back into my super soft, welcoming, non-judgmental bed and hiding from the world.

alone bed bedroom blur
Photo by Pixabay on

Fighting the Sirens that are calling from my bedroom, I make a plan for the day.  Step by step what I must do and when I will do it.  All the while in the back of my head, I hear my brain pleading with me to head back to the bed and lay back down.  This request is on a loop and I fight it all day long.  I speak back to my brain, respectfully, but kind of like a mother speaking to a child, “No brain, we cannot go lie down, you already slept, it is awake time, time to be productive and do things.  After 9 PM is when you can lay down, at that point it will be bed time and will be an appropriate time to sleep.”

I have a proverbial temper tantrum in my head.  “But I don’t want to do things, I want to do nothing!  I want to just sit, or lay, I want to listen to a story or maybe just listen to the stories that come up in my head in between my thoughts.”

I think on things that make my heart race, and make my mind blown.  Scary things, worst case scenario things.  One thing, then another, and they just keep coming like speeding cars flying down an interstate.  I am on edge but wound tight all at the same time.  I am tired but wired.  Overthinking and physically under-performing.  When will this hell go away?

selective focis photo of blue betta fish
Photo by Tim Mossholder on

My pleasant demeanor is sifting, and I am more negative and grumpy (and I really don’t like it).  I have all these incredibly strong opinions and no outlet to get them out in a way that will be received in the best way possible.  I feel like I need to proverbially throw up in a jar and just toss it away, to get all my yuck out and discard it so no one gets hurts.


I believe that this a case of overly heightened anxiety and some dreaded depression.  I have been fighting the symptoms and I have called in for reinforcements.  With an appointment this week with my psychiatrist, I am eager to meet with her and express how I have been feeling and get her guidance on how I should move forward.

I long for the days when I wake up with a smile on my face.  Happily put my feet on the floor and start my day with a smile on my face and a lightness in my step.  Where my brain is not preoccupied with questions of what if and being filled with anticipatory anxiety piping through my veins.

Until then, I will follow my schedule, the schedule that is filled with things that I need to complete that do not include naps or lounging in bed.  I will continue to fight my brain and let it know that depression and anxiety will not win, that I will win at this game, no matter how hard I have to fight.

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