There was a time...
There was a time in my life when I was a social butterfly. I could talk to anyone like they were not a stranger, talk to a whole room of people as if they were all my friends, make new friends, help others, and live up to the person I want to be. I was a good friend to many and I took pride in the fact that I was there for others in their time of need. Then my life changed one day and I woke up with this terrible disorder. My life was never the same.Most days my brain is on overload, struggling to slow down, to feel joy, or at the very least feel comfortable enough to work, to rest, to not suffer through things. Everything I do when I am depressed feels like a chore, and unfortunately it makes carrying on a conversation very difficult. I worry about saying the wrong thing, will the conversation make me anxious or depressed, does this person see my depression or am I causing them to be depressed because I feel this way. Some days I have to hide away in my office, the only social things I am capable of are through my computer, through text messages, or phone calls. I just can't be the person I once was and it pains me.
To all my friends and co-workers, I want to say that I love you and that there is nothing more that I would like to do than to talk with you. I wish I could be there to comfort you in your time of need, to listen to the details of your weekend, your ideas, or just find out how your day is going. I wish all these things, but I just can't do these when the depression takes hold of me, barricades my brain with thoughts and forces me into the uncomfortable shell that it does. Bipolar depression is the pits, and every day that I spend in it, makes me feel like a jerk, a recluse, or just someone that everyone hates or wants to avoid. Please know that I wish I was free to talk, and that I really like you and the things you are saying, I want to hear from you and experience life. In return, I will try my hardest to fight through the shell, and work to listen, even when it becomes a struggle. When you see that I am struggling, hiding in my office and looking like I have the worst headache imaginable, send me a text or something, so I can answer it at my own pace, between the pain and struggle.
I really do like all those people in my life, and I don't want this disease to rob me of them.
