Rollercoaster climbs instead of falling: and how I don’t talk about it with anyone

3:08am

Hello darkness, my old friend.

rollercoaster-speeding-4427719319_9933701109_o

I expect sine waves[1]:

1024px-Simple_sine_wave.svg

But I’m more like bouncing along at the top of that wave, doing a smaller sine wave between and high and “moderately high”. High being my highest points of hypo-mania and “moderate” being “appears normal, if positive and productive” to the outside world, like I mentioned in “That Guy with the Energy”.

I keep coming back to the fear of changes in my symptoms. It’s been a few weeks now and this is I think the third ride up the wave where I thought I was headed down to “normalcy” / flat / plateau and instead there was another kink in the roller coaster and back up we go[2].

rollercoast-skip-group-climb


 

Well, not “we”. “We” don’t go up and down. That’s just me – not those around me. It’s just you, not your friends. Not your family. If your friends and family even know.

I don’t talk about my cyclothymia with that many other people[3]. I probably should. At the very least, I should have a good therapist.

A friend is working with a therapist to work through grieving the loss of an immediate family member. When this was mentioned, all I said on the subject was: “I’ve thought about going to a therapist”. I’m sure it came off as trite or dismissive. In reality, I meant it with all sincerity and envied that he had taken the step to do it (for different reasons than my own need) and that he was finding it helpful.

A different friend struggles with depression regularly. But, recently, has been sharing more about his efforts and his successes and how he tackles it. When this was mentioned, all I chimed in with was: “Yeah, I’ve experienced some of that”. I know that my friend understood more, but I still haven’t done a full deep dive with him. I may in the next while.


 

Before the time when I used “cyclothymia” as my lens for viewing my symptoms, I was with my family for some holidays – that is, my immediate “siblings and parents who I grew up with”. I had been very stressed at work for many months, I had been experiencing a lot more symptoms and was generally starting to be appear that I was dealing with some mental health issues. But I had no idea what those were. I didn’t have a name for them. I didn’t have any kind of short description or list of symptoms. I didn’t understand it very well yet.

I was at the early stages of learning and it was a bit like spelunking in a large cavern and I was just in the mouth of the cavern and no one had turned on any lights. I could tell that I was in a kind of place that was new – the echoe-y sounds, the cool moist air – but I didn’t know where I was or what it was like. I had no idea where the walls were.

“Crazy” I called it. “My particular kind of crazy”. I wasn’t particularly ashamed of it[4]. I realized that we all have our particular eccentricities and when, over dinner, I just exploded in a fit of anxiety – over nothing that should have caused it – and had to leave the table to get some space to think, I ended up explaining it as my struggles with anxiety and “my particular kind of crazy”.

* crickets *

That was some lonely silence. It wasn’t the sort of topic “to be discussed” and it seemed clear that no one else could relate at all. But I had had an outburst that needed explaining, it wasn’t as though I could pretend I had left the table coughing. Something needed to be said as to what had happened.

I imagine that scene going differently now. First, I’m way less likely to have my anxiety get out of control, so it is a lot less likely to happen. Second, I would explain it better – because I understand it better. A short description and then I’d have a lot of more information if any questions were asked.


 

But I would still feel weird about it.

And so, mostly, except with a few people or in some round-about ways, I don’t talk about it.

Do better than me. And I will work to do better as well.

This is an illness, like other illnesses. I’ve never been embarrassed at having the flu or a cough. But this public stigma is a whole different topic for another day – a future day when I’m more clear on the topic.

 


 

[1] Or, really, smoother siney-looking waves of changing heights, like that diagram I mentioned previously.

[2] Though I’m starting to realize that maybe this “regular” shape isn’t “regular” to my experience and maybe I should adjust my expectations.

[3] That’s why I am talking to you, dear reader. That’s why this blog exists.

[4] Though I was embarrassed by my actions.


Photo Credit: Tom, Wikimedia, Melanie Holtsman

 


 

 

…and you thought I was going to include a Simon & Garfunkel reference. Nope. I’m not here whispering in the sound of silence.

 

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Rollercoaster climbs instead of falling: and how I don’t talk about it with anyone

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