The Wavering Week and Emergence of Feelings
Sunday, Mar. 02, 2014 - 10:12 AM

Have been feeling pretty shitty the last two weeks. I guess it started right before Valentine's Day, because I recall citing an energy low and not feeling great before going to that party. Since then it's been that feeling of that day right before you get sick, except that feeling has been persistent (but kind of up and down) over the last two or three weeks. I am trying to listen to my body and take a break, to not go crazy with training and sleeping a lot more-- I mean, going to bed before 10pm, wow who does that? I don't have the time or energy to eat super clean so clearly that influences the way I feel, but now I realize its gotten to a point where I need to take better care of myself. I think I have to go back on the Lyme diet, or at least consider some more restrictions. Ugh just the thought of putting effort into cooking makes me frustrated right now.

Which brings me to something perhaps more worrisome. The feeling tired, crappy, sore all the time.. I can handle that. But then there is the psychological pain that I have been feeling as of late as well.

Monday I was driving home from the country thinking, "Look how far I've come. I'm happy, I'm whole, I'm great. Life is working out. I'm ready to move forward."

Tuesday I woke up depressed and just hating on life. I didn't want to go to Ottawa the following day, even though I had been looking forward to it for weeks. I just didn't feel like it.

Wednesday I woke up and wanted to kill everyone. I looked in the mirror and hated on myself. Upon getting to a school when my coworkers were setting up in the classroom, I curled up under a desk and asked if I could stay there. I was being dramatic of course, but at the same time I really was in that kind of mood. We got to the motel in Ottawa I immediately threw myself into bed, pulled the blankets over my head, and napped for a few hours. I felt like I just needed to hide from life for a while.

I hung out with Boy that night and it made me feel better. For a little while I wasn't bothered by anything else. But at the same time I wish I had been top shape because I felt like I was not the superstar that he should fall madly in love with (jokes... but seriously). I loved just sitting beside him in the restaurant booth watching the Habs game and listening to him talk about his life. I was perfectly content.

Then we got back to the motel and of course since I've been feeling so shitty I fell asleep as I was lying half on top of him. We woke up the next morning and I had to leave for work. So it felt like all of our time together passed in five minutes. That's kind of too bad.

The rest of the week passed by, we came back to Montreal. Friday night I went to the gym to pick up my friend who was closing up so I could bring her home and get my cat (I didn't want to spend the night alone and wait until Saturday morning to pick her up). But then two other friends were at the gym, and we decided that after closing we would just have a little girls night in the gym with some wine and some bubbly. It was actually perfect and exactly what I needed. To laugh and talk and be stupid. It was great.

Saturday morning I paid for it, naturally. I managed to roll out of bed because someone was giving me their washer and dryer for free, and miraculously one of the guys from the gym was able to help me get it to my place so I didn't have to pay a man-with-a-van. That kind of luck was a nice change. I took another nap then went to the Fine Arts Museum to meet with a friend to see the exhibition by Peter Doig. I arrived at the museum a half hour early so I wandered the galleries for a bit and revisited my favourite pieces. I spent some time with the Impressionists, some time with Picasso.

Being at the museum brought back a lot of feelings. For one, it made me think of Astro-- the unicorn of my life, the mythical creative I'll never have. We had seen the Impressionist exhibition together when he was in Montreal, so naturally being back at the museum made me remember that night. That perfect night. Ahh.

It also made me think of just being an artist. What happened? Could I have ever been that good, or become that good? I questioned my future as an artist and wondered if I would ever want to paint again. I haven't felt that creative pulse since being sick. It made me sad that as much as I loved being there and gazing upon those masterpieces.. that that would never be my future. I wished I was as passionate about making art as those artists were. I thought I was. But I guess I was wrong. Or I'm just not anymore. I wish I could just be that passionate about something, you know?

Last night I wondered if I was suffering from cyclothymia, which is a milder form of bipolar disorder. I wondered if maybe this whole time, since I thought my bipolar was "gone" that it was merely just a more subtle state. I tried to think back as far as I could to distinguish if my lows were actually mild depression and if my highs were actually mild mania. Maybe. I don't know.

I work in the field of mental health. I spend all day telling teenagers about the symptoms of depression. And at some point this week I was explaining the board of symptoms and almost said "Well I have pretty much all of these symptoms, its just the way I am." I started thinking about this and wondered if having almost every symptom of depression could just be.. I don't know.. depression? But I know depression, and what I'm feeling now is not as intense.. I don't feel down in a hole, I just feel sad and down and a bunch of these things. So that's what got me thinking maybe I should get myself checked out because maybe I am struggling with something. Or maybe its something else. Something physical.. Like I said, a relapse of Lyme which has all of those symptoms as well.

I have to leave to get ready to teach the kids class at the gym but before I go I need to say one more thing but hopefully I can write more about it later. Last few days I had realized that because of all those feelings I was feeling on Monday, that I reached a point in my life where I could actually allow myself to feel again. What I was not prepared for was what feeling actually feels like. All of my thoughts and feelings about Boy, about the Waiter, the thoughts about The Stupid One that seemed to penetrate my fears.. Even the resentment I feel toward my parents, my friends, all of these things I have tried to bury in a nice little box labeled "the past" have all been unearthed. I try to tell myself this is good, this is just another challenge and opportunity to grow into a better person.

So that's what I have to say about that. Now I have to haul ass and go.

yesterday - tomorrow

It might make you feel better
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