I don’t know what exactly happened today, but I just stopped being able to function. I woke up in a perfect mood. I did laundry and dishes and enjoyed my morning more than ever before. But, while I was waiting on my laundry to dry, I stumbled and couldn’t get back up.
It was too soon to blame it on my ADD medication wearing off. Maybe I was just overly tired or overly caffeinated. I’m not sure. But what I do know is that I couldnt get off the sofa.
I wanted so badly to draw, write, anything. My mind was going and I couldn’t keep up. Again. I was exhausted, I had no energy. I didn’t want to just lay on the sofa, but it was like I had no choice. No say in the matter.
How was I going to get up and do things? And when I got up, what the hell was I going to do? It’s not like I have a job, I’m not in school, and I have no one to take care of. I couldn’t write, my drawings looked like shit, and I was so unbelievably frustrated.
I dreamed of ripping things off the walls, destroying all my books, breaking my dvds, throwing things across the apartment. If this is what hypomania is for me, god, I don’t want any part of it. I just want happiness, that’s all.
As I sat on the sofa, I began contemplating life’s purpose. What is the meaning to all of this? Is there meaning? I mean, we all end up in a hole 6 feet under, what’s the point? What is the mother fucking point?!
I’m supposed to be inspirational, I’m supposed to be helpful. How can I be when I can’t even get myself off the damn sofa? How am I supposed to one day be an amazing writer or therapist if I can’t even find meaning for myself? Or, rather, believe in the meaning I’ve already found.
I don’t know what to do. Honestly, I’m lost. I can’t for one second even think of something that means anything. I want to, I really do. Normally, I’d be full of joy and passion. If I didn’t have Bipolar ll I’d be such a light and such an inspired woman. But I’m being held back, being held down. I just can’t escape. Nothing feels real, nothing feels right anymore.