Home » Bipolar » I am not dangerous, I am depressed.

I am not dangerous, I am depressed.

That means that I am too tired to be a threat.

Real depressives and bipolars have gotten a bad rap in the media. Shoot and kill men, women and children and have a psychiatric file, and people will believe that all people with mental illness are dangerous. But most of those people stopped taking their meds, or took other escape routes, and avoided getting professional help.

I am too tired to be a threat to anyone but myself.  I use up all of my energy to get dressed and drag myself to work. Then, I spend eight hours pretending that I don’t care that I have no real friends there and that I don’t want to go into the bathroom and cry.

I am depressed. I can hear everything that you are saying and see what is happening around me. I don’t have the energy to clean off my bed, but I cannot forget the nasty things that you said to me two years ago in the lunchroom.  My pills don’t make me feel better. They make me like everyone else who looks miserable to be at their desks. However, with my meds there are differences: no sex life, no simple pleasures, not enough cookies.

Being depressed, and responsible about it, means that every three months you will sit in an office for a couple of hours until someone who has not seen you in three months is willing to give you a scrip for a few different meds, but none that will let you sleep.

You will be so tired, but your thoughts will loop higher than a six year old pumped up on cotton candy unwilling to stop riding the roller coaster over and over again.  It is necessary to roll around and look at the clock every hour, or so, and figure out how much longer until you have to get out of bed and get ready for work. These are part of the depressive’s night job.

Your day job will not bring you real joy because you cannot remember what that feels like. But you will remember that some passive aggressive jerk made a comment about you not smiling. You will begin to wonder why you cannot feel good about pasting one on your face for someone else’s benefit.

The only threat I pose is eating too much sugar and a dirty bathroom because it takes too much effort to clean.  I will lie about my weekend because I am too tired to get dressed or out of bed.  Your secrets are safe with me because I am used to hiding how I feel and not being able to tell anyone the truth. People will tell you to cheer up because it could be worse. Do not fall for that trap or the universe will rise up and show you what could be worse.  Like a new combination of meds that are no longer covered by insurance.

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