Falling into a dark state is like descending into a place where time feels endless, and the weight of despair seems unbearable. It can last days, sometimes weeks. Occasionally, it’s so severe that I find myself questioning whether it’s all worth it. What’s especially difficult is the unpredictability—sometimes I can sense the change creeping in gradually, like a heavy fog, while other times, it crashes over me like a sudden storm. When the depressive side of bipolar takes hold, it’s like being trapped in a personal Hell. I could describe every detail of that dark place, but I’d rather focus on what helps me climb out and rediscover hope and strength.
Just the other day, I faced such a moment. There was a Christmas party I didn’t want to attend—I felt tired and weighed down by depression. But I pushed myself to go, and to my surprise, I felt better while I was there. Yet that night, my mind wouldn’t rest; it raced for hours, leaving me exhausted.
The next day seemed to conspire against me. Nothing went right. A simple computer task turned into a frustrating ordeal. I dropped a sticky spoon on the floor while making cookies. Then came the phone calls. I desperately needed to reach a woman about a medical issue, but I was passed back and forth between two agencies. One woman I spoke with was downright nasty.
At that moment, I felt the pressure building. Should I cry? Should I scream? Maybe both. But instead, I decided: Hell, nah! I called back, determined to get through to the person I needed. My persistence paid off. We connected, and the issue was resolved.
It’s moments like these that remind me: sometimes, you have to fight for what you want or need. And when you persevere and start rising above the struggle, hold tight to those good feelings. Don’t let them slip away. That sense of empowerment, of triumph, is yours—it belongs to you, and nobody else.
