Happy Depression: If you're happy and depressed clap your hands...
I'm having a really difficult time writing this post.
I know I must write because I'm committed to staying on my Simple 30 plan that my therapist and I have come up with.
That means between12-2 in the afternoon, I write.
For the past fifteen hours I've thought about a million different things to write about and instead I can't really write anything except this.
Am I really this f*cking crazy and where the hell did this all come from?
Until one and half years ago I considered myself a normal person whose life was like a speed of lightning and I enjoyed every minute of it. I mean I literally sing, dance and act FOR A LIVING.
I'm paid to be happy. I'm paid to make others happy.
And now I'm constantly consumed with guilt, fear, and weirdly happiness all wrapped up into this confusing brain of mine.
Guilt because so many people have difficult lives.
I live in beautiful Northern California, happily married for 18 years. I still love him and even better like him, and even better than that we still have great sex. Okay, once or twice a week if he's gettin' lucky but we still got it.
Who am I kidding? It's really once a week.
But it's still great. So there.
We have awesome kids. They're young enough that we haven't gotten to the life altering stuff like sex, drugs, or those horrible big ass ear hole things that I see people with. (Yes, that is a fear of mine.) We both work from home, have a cute dog, a nice house and really all that we need. Even though, sure, one day I'd love that custom garage.
You didn't think I'd forgotten about that did you?
Others my age are getting divorced, thinking about divorce, eating disorders, taking too many pain pills, think we don't know it, worried they don't love their spouse anymore, dealing with alcoholic family members, mounting debt (well okay I got that one), sick children, annoying children, life changing illnesses worse than mine and jesus now I'm really depressed.
Fear because holy sh*t am I never going to snap out of this?
Am I going to be stuck in my mind of thoughts which are on an endless loop in my head that never let up?
Constantly wondering what is my purpose. Fearing an impending cancer diagnosis. Thinking my elevated thyroid is an autoimmune disorder. Worrying about all the medications I take, the food I'm ingesting, the weight I'm gaining, the weight I'm losing. Should I be funny on my blog? Should I be honest? What is my point of view? Should I even f*cking do it?
I think I'll go listen to Dirty John. I'm currently bingeing this amazing podcast. You should listen. It's all about a psycho murderer. Very uplifting for someone like me.
Laughter because I am easily distracted into happiness
Thank god I am filled up so easily by a kick ass dance class, bingeing our new favorite show Episodes with Kurt, watching my daughter Rylie run circles through the house like a Tasmanian devil, or having a wine night with my girlfriends. I enjoy every minute of it. I really do.
I spend so much time being happy that it's difficult for me to recognize that what I'm experiencing is depression. I swing back and forth between thinking maybe this is what most people are experiencing in their lives and then think, no way, this couldn't be the way most people spend their lives.
It is NOT NORMAL. For me at least. For me.
Except it's becoming my new normal. Which also happens to be the title of my new play, "MY NEW NORMAL" Molly Bell's one woman musical opening Spring of 2028. Starring Kristin Chenoweth.
They wouldn't cast me in it.
Seriously, this is all coming on much faster and more often than it was before.
I have learned that mental illness in my family lineage has popped up around the age of 40 so I can sort of make sense of what is happening. I just thought I'd be stronger.
My inclination is to drink another glass of wine
or make yummy whiskey sour, eat an edible, or take some pills because it certainly feels like the easier way out. To just zone out for a bit and give my mind a rest. But I'm not an addict, despite my sometimes trying. I have control over it and know it's better that I don't do that kind of stuff during the week. For both my mental health, my kids and let's face it, my waist line. A girls got priorities.
I just save it for Saturdays. Great sex night if you haven't connected the dots.
Actually, I am taking pills, lots of them, but they ain't the fun kind. And truthfully I'd like to eat some edibles, the only thing that has ever helped me sleep, but I can't due to drug interaction.
I learned that the hard way and will write about it soon as I get the guts to do it.
That crying feeling is coming on again. My body's response to my whacked out emotion. My son Ryder is home sick today but I'm just going to go ahead and let myself cry because I think it'll help me get on with my day. He's busy enjoying YouTube anyhow and I've still got a five year old to pick up and dinner to make.
Who am I kidding, Kurt will make dinner. Told you I'm in a happy marriage.
My initial response to this overwhelming feeling is to get mad at myself. It seems so irrational. It also feels out of my control. And no matter how much my family or friends tell me not to think about all this, ultimately they can't because despite my trying to put various tools in place it's not in my control.
Patience is not my forte.
My instinct is to learn every single thing I can about Bipolar 2, depression, mania and tackle it. That's what I've done my whole life.
See a problem, make an intention, overcome the obstacle, get what I want. Then make a business out of it, naturally.
It seems I can't quite do that now. Ain't that the sh*t?
I do feel better in admitting to myself and you that what I am feeling today is indeed depression. It ironically makes me feel a little less crazy not to fight it. My instinctual response is always to fight back, insist on not being sick-physically or mentally.
It's now 2:30 and on my Simple 30 plan I know it's time to prepare the dinner that Kurt will make. Korean beef skewers tonight. Something to be happy about.