Since Thanksgiving of 2008, the world has shifted and changed in ways I never imagined. Relatives I once trusted became distant and cold. I had my gallbladder removed 2 days before Christmas. The management changed at work. Months later in 2009, my mom found out she had cancer and was gone in nine weeks. Work became progressively more difficult.
2009 bled into 2010.
I journeyed to New Mexico, Chicago, and New York.
We made the decision to move to Chicago and placed our home on the market. Another huge change.
Big changes. Little changes. Ups and downs. Work and money woes. And then it all came crashing down.
Around Noon on August 11th, I cracked under the pressure and had a good old-fashioned nervous breakdown. Had this been fifty or sixty years ago, I would have checked myself into a sanatorium for some rest. Now under the care of two doctors and a therapist, I glue together the pieces.
My psychiatrist diagnosed me with cyclothymia. After much discussion with him, I now realize how that has impacted my life for decades. Anxiety, mania, and depression have walked with me every step of the way. I can recall bad episodes as far back as first grade. Moods swing. Interests wax and wane. The cycle hasn't been stopped yet.
I feel embarrassed and ashamed. I'm sorry for any grief I've caused. I know I've pushed away good people and let in some bad.
I know my father is having a hard time grasping this. I know that my partner is fatigued, worried, and scared for me.
I've relapsed once, and to be perfectly honest, I can feel the same pressures building up again. The medicine I'm taking has to be carefully titrated and it's very apparent I'm not where I need to be yet.
The one change I can see clearly is slowly but surely being lit at the end of this tunnel: the move to Chicago.
I'm hoping for good changes. I know they are out there. I know they are coming.
